MENtally Disabled

I had an epiphany last week.

Rather than engage in our usual weekend Manhattan drunken debauchery, Julia and I opted for a quiet and early night in Queens. The plan—one glass of wine at a nearby outdoor café and straight home. At least, that was my plan. Julia, newly single and horny as a toad, insisted that we head to Fratboy Central by my house afterwards to look for cute boys. Despite the fresh wounds from the tongue lashing I had gotten from my mother earlier that day thanks to one too many nights stumbling home sweating Johnnie Walker at 5AM, I finally relented.

So there we were, Saturday night, walking along Fratboy Way on the corner of Cops Hang Out Here and 7-11, makeupless in our flip flops and baggy jeans while Fratboy Groupies teetered around in stilettos and tiny tank tops, nipples a-blazin’. We made our way into a small dive bar that managed to stay relatively empty amidst the weekend rush and shuffled through our purses for IDs. I glance up to hand my ID to the bouncer and find Julia, ear-to-ear smile chiseled into her face as she hands hers to him. Puzzlement at first until my eyes fall on the specimen of male “holyshitness” that is checking IDs. Dark brown hair gelled into neat spikes, clear blue eyes set into perfectly bronzed skin, tall, toned, hummina hummina. Despite my attempts at otherwise, my face breaks into a giant toothy smile and my lips emit a girlish giggle as I smooth my hair back and rue my decision not to wear makeup.

Eyes lowered and coy, we thank him when he hands our licenses back to us and find a spot at the bar within view. We sip drinks for the next half hour, our conversation consisting entirely of the words, “Oh my God, so cute, holy shit, so hot, oh my God, seriously, holy shit.” Really scintillating stuff going on in our college-educated, generally intelligent heads. This fascinating conversation continues as we walk back to the car, sit inside smoking cigarettes, pull out, head home, change our minds and circle the block to get another look at him. He waves to us on our second pass, Julia waves back and we burst into girly tittering. Then we finally head home where the epiphany strikes.

Julia and I, two seemingly intelligent women, were reduced to complete idiots during, and in the subsequent hours following, meeting with said ridiculously attractive man. I seriously felt like someone had knocked me upside the head with a two-by-four and my brain temporarily ceased to function. Take into account that there are a significantly larger number* of women who embody the level of attractiveness achieved by Hunky ID Checker. This means that men are constantly exposed to steady doses of mentally debilitating ridiculously hot-ness thereby keeping their brain functions at a perpetually dulled level. In that moment, it became clear to me why the male mind is so muddled as opposed to a female’s. A man has to concentrate on even the most menial tasks in order to function at all amidst the marijuana-like haze that constantly halos their heads. That explains why men operate at such a primitive level as opposed to women; why sometimes their words and actions are often reminiscient of the incoherent grunts and awkward movements of gorillas. I finally understand the male's constant struggle against complete and total mental atrophy!

Therefore, due acknowledgement must be given to all the men of the world. With their brains so steadily incapacitated, it’s truly a miracle that they can manage to get out of bed in the morning. So the next time your boyfriend pisses all over the toilet seat or your husband forgets your anniversary, don’t get angry. Pat him on the back, shake your head with pity, and tell him you understand.

-L

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*The reason for this is threefold:
1) Women can wear makeup to cover their ugly faces and make them look pretty
2) Women have more ways to be hypnotically attractive (i.e. low-cut shirt that reveals large bosoms, miniskirt that shows long, thin legs, etc.)
3) Men have lower standards (this is a generalization that is generally true)