THE FAIRER SEX

Short Stories on Male Privilege

No. 4

Genitals as Brains

I was too trusting, too naive. I felt like it was all my fault.

It would take me years to accept what now seems obvious:

rape is not a punishment for poor judgement.

- Chessy Prout

Some viruses if they gain access to a ruminant's brain will seize control of the animal's nervous system. The animal then just walks in circles. And it continues doing so, even as predators gather - the instinct to save itself has been overridden. It is as if pirates have boarded a ship, seized control of the bridge, and set a course for the nearest rocks.

A virus such as this may be observed under the electron microscope. Mind viruses, on the other hand, are intangible. When birds are duped by cuckoos, the parents do not just feed the rogue chicks in their own nest. An exhausted bird, returning to its nest with food, may even stop off to feed the chicks in another nest. The sight of the chicks' mouths, gaping and demanding food, grabs control of the bird's nervous system. Not only has the instinct to feed its own chicks been corrupted, but also the instinct to feed only the chicks in its own nest. Yet in these cases there are no pirates: we have an intangible mind virus.

Insofar as humans possess rationality, we are not, unlike other animals, driven exclusively by instinct. Fat, sugar and salt are all essential concomitants to our survival. These food stuffs are, for this very reason, pleasing to our taste: instinct tells us to seek them out, and to consume them freely whenever available; for in prehistory they were rare and difficult to obtain. They are no longer difficult to obtain; yet we lack an overconsumption instinct: cavemen had no need of one. A chocolate-bar carries a significant fraction of our daily calories, but once we have eaten it, we have no particular feeling of satiety. Rather, instinct says: 'eat another one'. When our ratiocination (aided by the weighing scales) says 'no', our instinct says 'yes'. In this case, our instinct leads us into behaviour that is self-destructive.

I put down my copy of Scientific American. Fascinating. But it was time to go out. I left the hotel and walked to the bar in which I'd agreed to meet my colleagues. We were climate-testing prototype vehicles close to the Arctic Circle. This assignment was generally unwelcome. There was little to see in this town, and even less to do. A couple of French engineers on learning they'd be stuck for six weeks in this frozen Hicksville became almost suicidal.

I sat at one end of the bar and ordered a beer.

I then looked up and saw a girl at the opposite end of the bar, about twenty feet away.

She was supremely gorgeous.

Our eyes met. I expected her to look away, but she did not. Our mutual gaze continued until it was disconcerting, and I looked away, trying not to appear uncomfortable.

I took a drink.

I nestled my chin between thumb and forefinger, with my elbow on the bar, in that thinking pose, looking everywhere except at her, while suspecting she was looking at me.

After a few seconds of wondering, I looked at her to find out if she was still looking at me. She was.

Our mutual gaze continued, until again I was forced to look away.

I took a drink.

I nestled my chin between thumb and forefinger, with my elbow on the bar, in that thinking pose, looking everywhere except at her, while suspecting she was looking at me.

After a few seconds of wondering, I again looked at her: she was looking away; but sensing my look, she turned her head and looked at me.

Again, I looked away.

We went through a couple more cycles of this sort of stuff, until I drew my hand down over my face while re-opening my eyes, in that tired gesture.

Exasperation and incredulity now appeared on her face. Here was a man who, despite a truly absurd number of invitations, flatly refused to leave his seat, walk down to the other end of the bar, and talk to her. She, this gorgeous girl.

Oliver walked in and slapped me on the back.

'Been here long?' he asked.

'Only five minutes or so.'

A sequence of events then occurred very rapidly.

An image of the gorgeous girl fell on Oliver's retina; his retina converted this image into neural impulses that passed along neurones to his visual cortex, where the proximity of a gorgeous girl was recognised. This set off a train of psychological and physiological responses. His amygdala, for example, evaluated the emotional content of the sexual stimulus, instructing other motivational areas of his brain that guide sexual behaviour. 

His behavioural response, however, was eminently predictable, as I'd seen it numerous times.

'Phwoar!' he said in best Benny Hill style. 'What have you been doing? How come you're not already down there talking to her?'

'I never allow gorgeous women to control me by my sexual instinct, any more than I allow chocolate-bars to control me by my gustatory instinct'.

'You don't half say some fuckin' weird shit', he said. 'Hey - she's looking this way.'

'Yeah, she's been looking at me.'

'Looking at you? Many men would've been straight down there to talk to her, whether she looked at them or not.'

'Listen. She's been using her looks to control men ever since she developed curves. The men just come running. Well, this evening she got a really big surprise - a man she can't control.'

'I'm going down there to chat her up. Good bye.'

'She's probably a POMS.'

'A POMS?'

'A Purveyor of Mercenary Sex. A lady of the night. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a pimp lurking outside. She's trying too hard. Women with her looks never have to try. It's suspicious.'

'Nah, I don't believe it. I tell you what it is. I've heard of this. Women hang around here whenever there's a test team in town. It's a godawful place, and they know engineers like us make good money. Getting hooked up is their ticket to civilisation. Remember that guy in powertrain simulation, the one that went off to Italy? He married a woman he met in this very town. I'm going to talk to her.'

I'd like to say that what ensued resembled science fiction, in which a man, caught in a mysterious tractor beam, is forced to walk against his will. The man struggles and struggles, but ultimately he is powerless to stop his legs moving, as, step by step, his now-kidnapped body conveys him to destruction.

But it was not like that. Just as a bird stops off needlessly to feed the chicks in another nest, so powerful is the mind virus of the chick's open mouth, Oliver now walked nonchalantly to the other end of the bar, so powerful was the mind virus of the gorgeous girl. The girl had, via Oliver's sexual instinct, grabbed complete control of his nervous system - and he was not even aware of it! Ratiocination had entirely failed him. Intellect was in thrall to instinct. 

Several of the other guys came in, and we all had a beer before moving on to the restaurant. We conversed; but stopped now and then to observe, discreetly, the mating ritual at the other end of the bar.

'It looks like Oliver's copped', someone said. 'I wish I'd seen her first.'

When we left for the restaurant, I saw Oliver brush his hair behind his right ear.

The gorgeous girl held up her pendant. To examine it, Oliver drew his head close.

I ate with the guys and went to bed about 10pm.

I was not best pleased when the receptionist called my room at 4.00am; even less pleased to learn that the hospital was fifty miles away.

When I walked into Oliver's room, he was propped up on one of those inclinable beds, his head swathed in bandages.

'I've just been telling your colleague that he's had a lucky escape', said the nurse. 'He was found by a man walking a dog. Otherwise the hypothermia would've probably killed him. Don't stay too long.'

She left.

'I suppose your memory's a bit fuzzy', I said.

'I have a vague memory of leaving the hotel this evening, but everything else is blank. I've been coshed, so the nurse says.'

'I daresay your wallet has gone AWOL.'

'Credit cards, drivers licence, passport. Mobile phone. About a hundred quid in cash.'

'You went off with a gorgeous girl from the bar.'

'I've no idea about that. I woke up here with a massive headache - ten pints couldn't match it.'

A police officer now came in.

Between the two of us, we explained what had happened that evening.

We expected her to be sympathetic. She was not.

'This is the third honey trap we've had in the last year', she said. 'That we know about, anyway. The men are often too embarrassed to say anything. The woman lures some dumb-ass into an alleyway, she distracts him, and her accomplice steps from behind with a cosh. I will tell you why this keeps happening. It's because men can't keep their dicks in their pants. Your brains are in your dicks - that's why your brains are so small. It's well known that a man thinks about sex every three minutes.'

'That's not true', I said. 'Every three minutes a feminist thinks that men think about sex every three minutes.'

'It's hardly my fault', said Oliver.

'It is your fault', said the officer. 'Your poor judgement is responsible, and getting bashed over the head is your punishment. You brought it on yourself.'

'That argument sounds a bit familiar', I said. 'Don't they call it victim-blaming?'

'You are going to investigate?' asked Oliver.

'We have two people in custody. A man and a woman. Can you identify the woman from the bar?'

'I don't think so', said Oliver. 'I don't remember anything.'

'It may come back to you slowly. How about you?'

'Sure. Several of us could identify her.'

'Good.'

'They'll get time for this?' asked Oliver.

'Probably - well, the man will. Not sure about the woman. It's probably a Svengali-type situation, where an innocent woman is manipulated by a rogue male. You see, it's not unknown for men to exercise malevolent influences over women, and women are sadly soft touches for it, particularly so if love is involved. Women in these situations can't be held responsible for their actions - it's the man that's responsible. He may even have threatened her. I think she'll be okay - judges go easy on women anyway. Judges know that men have all the power.'

(c) Cufwulf

Cufwulf@aol.com