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Well, okay. Today’s entry is titled “climbing Jacob’s ladder,” even though I haven’t ever dated a man named Jacob. But it’s witty and funny and apropo, so bear with me.
Today Terence talks about The Ladder Theory, courtesy of the kind folks at Intellectual Whores, and I’ve been reading it through over today’s first cuppa’joe. While alternately amusing and horrifying, IW does a spot-on job of dissecting the male-female relationship.
Now, I’m rather tempted to say that based on recent experiences, some men actually have a friends ladder as opposed to just ye olde “Do me! Do me now!” ladder. But since that man’s opinion of me is vastly outnumbered by the rest of you horny buggers who want to get into my pants, we’ll just think of him as a statistical abberation and on the wrong part of the Bell curve to begin with. Besides, as Terence and the IW folks put it:
I think that my new phrase is going to be “I can prove this on an abacus!”
I’ll fully admit to being the kind of chick who will size you up on sight and classify you as (a) “Do me! Do me now!” or (b) “Let’s just be friends.” Because let’s face it; guys have to work much harder to get laid. And even though the plural of “anecdote” is not “data,” any half-decent chick can walk into any bar, anywhere, and walk out with a man no more than five minutes later. Such is the beauty of having only one ladder to rank the opposite sex with.
I’m sure I’ll blather on more about this later, but I have to pack up my office so the movers can haul my boxes away while I’m on vacation.