Dispatches from the wilds of Proseambique – Rutting

People forget that this whole sexual equality + personal freedom thing is actually pretty new. New enough, in fact, that we don’t really know what we’re doing. The old rituals of courtship may have been archaic and oppressive, but they were not decided upon at whim, but rather carefully constructed over millennia for good reason – finding a partner, it turns out, is fucking hard. Even though it’s basically what we’re built to do, people are amazingly good at getting in their own way, when it comes to getting together.

We spend a few decades letting self-appointed experts pretend they know what they’re talking about; “Insult her shoes!” “lace your conversation with hidden commands!” “Be honest!” “Lie like a rug!” “Play hard to get!” “Come on strong!” “He’s just not that into you!”… the scientists are no better. They draw conclusion after contradictory conclusion; the evolutionary biologists tell us that women are selective because awareness of the high cost of child-rearing is baked into their genes. The psychologists fire back that it’s just because they don’t find casual sex all that satisfying. Others try using economics to explain it, and, as usual, end up explaining nothing. The pseudo-socialists weigh in claiming that we’re all doomed because all the men today are crap; they’re all a bunch of overgrown children, and why won’t they just grow up already? And we can only conclude that they can’t help drawing comparisons with daddy.

Eventually, we get wise to the fact that none of these people know what they’re talking about, and start taking our advice straight from the animal kingdom. I mean, after all, when was the last time you heard of a Panther brooding away over unrequited love, writing terrible poetry? When was the last time you heard of a Koala’s girlfriend leaving him for Trevor, just because he’s “cooler”, even though his band is total bullshit; just a bunch of wannabe Emo posers that only know three chords and only managed to score a gig at the Landsdowne because Trevor’s brother’s friends with one of the bouncers.

But, as it turns out, most animal mating rituals aren’t that great; oh sure, the Red Garter Snake orgy-balls sounded like a great idea at the time, and by the end of the year of the Manakin there were some truly amazing moonwalkers out there, but ultimately, there was only one viable solution: antlers.

It didn’t take long for an entire bone-grafting industry to spring up, replete with custom-grown antler options. It becomes an international obsession; like robot wars, but with sex. Men line up to design their own killer set of horns – it’s just too tempting a combination to turn down; self-expression, competition and sex. The scars are often quite shocking but, fortunately, also sexy.

It totally decimates the hat industry, though.

*****

With thanks to Adam Pigott, for the suggestion “Something with Antlers!”

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Published in: on March 10, 2011 at 6:31 pm  Leave a Comment  
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