I wonder how many column inches have been given over to this subject; what is it that women really look for in men, or more specifically, what sets a thoroughbred apart from the rest of the neddies?
Over what seems like way too many years I’ve listened to men presupposing that the answer is always physical …. girls obviously go for a six-pack and toned, taut rear-ends, right? Along with …. now, how would Jane Austen phrase this …. an attribute of a certain proportion? Not so. At least not so in this girl’s case. The truth of the matter is that we will always stare agog at the latest David Beckham underwear campaign, and we will continue to make much bawdiness on the subject of Johnny Depp, but that is simply because we enjoy cackling in our coven over such matters. We like to strengthen the ties that bind us in this lewd way. It’s a girl thing.
No. What really gets our frissons a-fizzing is a tad more subtle, but not too difficult to grasp thereon. Now I should hold my hand up and state for the record that this is just one female opinion in a myriad of oestrogen, but it is a toned, taut observation at that.
A woman on the brink of a bubbling surge wants a man who takes hold of the situation by the sphericals, not one who plays it safe with talk of tenderness and other such nonsense. A man like Malcolm Tucker.
Sadly Malcolm Tucker is but a fictional character, brought to life by Armando Iannucci in the BBC series The Thick of It; I would suggest typing his name into YouTube to appreciate the full impact of his unsympathetic prowess if you are unacquainted thus far. Be sure to gird your loins if you are of a sensitive nature, as Malcolm takes no prisoners when it comes to making full use of expletives wherever and whenever possible.
Let me paint a picture … you’re at the check-in desk for your flight to New York, the gateway to a weekend break for the two of you when the check-in clerk tells you the flight is double-booked and you’re going to have to wait three hours until the next one. Not only would Malcolm strike terror so deep into the heart of clerk that she will probably need three months of counselling afterwards, but he would get you both upgraded. Such is the impact of the Malcolm Tucker factor.
Now he may on occasion turn these explosive tirades on his woman, but I only see that as a plus. Personally I would welcome the gilt-edged opportunity to wrestle him to the floor and secure a capitulation. Deep down he would be so shocked at my unbeknown and concealed power that I would catch him completely off balance. Men like Malcolm Tucker need to be caught off balance once in a while. As a child he put the “Tuf” into the Tufty Club so pulling the rug is entirely acceptable.
And so from “tuf” to tender… I’ve already made mention of talk of tenderness. Again, it is strictly one woman’s opinion but the only time I want to use the word tender is when discussing aspragus and the cooking thereof, it’s not something I want to read in a text message …. “I want to give you the tenderest of kisses” …. I’m sorry, but that’s just straight out of the Blue Peter School of Seduction handbook.
I suppose my yearning for a little of the laconic stuff stems from the fact that practically all the men from my past could not have come up with one well-formed backbone between them. One in particular had the confrontational ability of a stick of candy-floss, a 6ft4 stick of candy-floss to be exact.
Admittedly it’s a fine line between desire and disdain, and of course Malcolm Tucker is as an extreme example of forthrightness as you could wish to find (but let’s not forget he is only fictional… sadly)
When all is said and done there’s more to the ritual of sexual enticement than a well-timed bluster, but it makes for a great opening yelp.