Friday, 10 November 2006

One Man's Meat (is another woman's joke)

Sexual tastes are many and varied, and can drive people to do bizarre things. Catching a glimpse of the hideous corseted freak that is Cathie Jung on the news today, I couldn’t help imagining what a one-time colleague of mine might have said of the cringe-worthy sight.

“She looks as if a stiff breeze would snap her like a twig,” Devious once remarked of a rather thin girl walking past as we ate our lunch.

He was vehemently anti-stick-figure and frequently made caustic yet amusing comments regarding what he refreshingly saw as unattractively skinny women. Often these observations were murmured to me in a conspiratorial fashion, and I suspected that he was trying to ingratiate himself in the hopes of deposing Mr. Lonie. Or maybe he just thought my self-esteem needed boosting, possessed as I was of an unfashionably voluptuous figure. Either way, he ended up with a similarly Raphaelite colleague who was not so scrupulous about fidelity to her fiancé.

Another workmate was less ambiguous about his intentions.

“My girlfriend and I have decided to have a threesome,” he said quite casually, apropos of nothing as he gave me a lift home one day. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and said nothing as he chatted unconcernedly about their trouble finding a suitable girl to make up the numbers.

“I was going to ask you, before I realised you had a boyfriend.”

“Mmm,” noncommittally. “Thanks for the ride.”

A third workmate didn’t seem to have any specific tastes; I suspected he formed designs on a woman based on the following criteria: ‘breathing’, and ‘reasonably close in age to myself’. One night after a few work drinks at the pub, Threesome and I happened upon Desperate Guy out with his own gang of friends, and he invited us for a drink which we reluctantly accepted. He bought a round of beers, handing me a bottle with a straw in it – I nearly laughed in his face when I realised he was trying to get me drunk with that fatuous method. After a few polite sips while Desperate and his mates leered at me and exchanged knowing looks, I began to fear that Desperate’s real taste might be for non compos mentis liaisons. Needless to say, we left immediately, me clinging to forward-but-honourable-tae kwon do-champion-Threesome for peace of mind.

So what does this little story say about my sexual tastes, leaving aside the whole valuing fidelity thing?
1) Chubby-chasers make me suspicious they might secretly be feeders.
2) Offers to make up a threesome are flattering but not in the least tempting.
3) A reliance on alcohol and Rohypnol is for bottom-of-the-dregpile-of-humanity losers.

In other words, I may not like corsets, but I am straitlaced.


Anonymous said...

blimey Polony - thats a lot of action for a meat based product!

Lonie Polony said...

Sadly, it's quality, not quantity that counts ;p

cocoa_no_gogo said...

Wow! This is great stuff...but I find myself having to read through your posts twice in order to figure it all out. Maybe it's just all the Australian jargon. In the future, could you write more like an American so I could follow along more easily?

Anonymous said...

funny about how when a bloke talks about consensual threesomes, he rarely has another bloke in mind...

Lonie Polony said...

If I had to, foodkitty, I'd rather go the 'two girls for every boy' that the beach boys sang about, than 'two blokes coming at me with meat syringes for an injection of loving, but only one acceptable hole'