Dutch Cuddles

I’ve got this amazing business idea.

It will cater to guys looking to propose to their girlfriends. It’ll give them the certainty they need to propose. How? By testing their girls.

That’s not as academic as it sounds. What we do is simple: I use every trick in every unwritten book to try and steal “his” girl. If she stays with him, he’ll know she’s good to marry.

The German thinks it’s a brilliant idea. Then again, she wants to stop studying towards being a teacher and become a pornstar, so she might be a little biased toward sexier job descriptions.

I, on the other hand, am just amazed it works.

Because there is no reason in the world why any girl would want to leave her stable, steady, employed, loyal partner for me.

And yet, they do. Every girl I’ve slept with in the last 5 years was in a relationship when we started fucking. Granted, there weren’t many – a hugely enjoyable total of four – and one of those was in a healthy open relationship. But it intrigues me as to why you’d leave what apparently you’d always wanted for me.

Of course, I haven’t “won” every girl. Memories of Sunglass Girl still make me blush. Then there was the Swede…god that was embarrassing. Curiously, those were both single.

There was also the Canadian. I have never been more instantaneously attracted to someone. I have never put more effort into a short encounter. It was the first time I actively followed every pick-up-artist technique. But she was heading back to Canada. In under 12 hours. To a boy with waiting arms.

She didn’t come home with me.

Pretty much, I have no problem with destroying relationships. That whole “sorry, I have a boyfriend” doesn’t sound like an excuse to me: It’s like saying “sorry, I’m wearing socks.” I can’t even find it in me to consider it unethical or wrong. I’m told that it’s wrong, and I’ve had a friend tell me very seriously that if I ever stole a girl from him, he’d be incredibly upset at me. Which confuses the hell out of me.

I just don’t get it. It’s like women are objects, to be stuck up on a wall and admired and woe betide anyone who removes them. It’s like women aren’t allowed to choose.

So, imagine my confusion when I fall in love with Dutchy (and her small bum) and then freak out at any sign she might return the feelings because I don’t want to ruin her relationship.

Weirdest series of thoughts in my head. “Oh, she might have feelings for me. That’s hot. But then she’ll have to choose between me and Hulk. He’s boring. But he’s been so good for her. And she’s so happy with him. Why would I want to ruin it? Wait, why do I care?”

I like that, though I know I have little to offer, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’d be chosen over him. My arrogance is appalling.

Regardless, it’s the first time I know I’d back off to save another’s relationship.

Of course, there’s no need to back off: I channelled my usual honesty (with perhaps a hint of German influence) and asked if the feelings were returned.

And holy fuck does that chick have issues. I don’t know which of us was angrier with the other. But through a lengthy tirade of tears (mine), mutual misunderstanding (hers only actually, I’m amazing) and exasperation (ours), she eventually realised that I was not trying to fuck or date her and I realised that her feelings for me are not even slightly near mine for her.

Which is good. Cause now I still get Dutchy-cuddles.


Russian Wine

I made a decision the other day. A decision that says “I was wrong. Fuck. I guess I should fix it.” A decision I long to rebel against in the eternal hope that it’s stupid and false and silly.

I’ve held a certain view for years. A belief more than a view, really. It was quite a simple one. I believed that education was about learning. That it mattered more what you understood than what courses you’d done.

Unfortunately, I was wrong: Education is simply a bragging right. A certificate stating “I can do [subject]” is more valuable than actually being able to do [subject].  Apparently, this is because the said certificate “proves” you can do [subject].

I would accept this view if it were true. Unfortunately, I’m one of those idiots who chose to study pure maths. As there are a reducingly limited number of us (natural selection doesn’t favour those stuck behind whiteboards exploring patterns nobody else can see), there are – consequently – a reducingly limited number of pure math courses to choose from.

The overall result of this is fairly straightforward: in order to prove that I can do pure mathematics, I need a degree in pure mathematics. There are not enough pure math courses to satisfy the conditions of a degree. Therefore, I must take courses that have fuck all to do with pure maths to satisfy my degree conditions. Therefore, to prove I can do pure maths, I must not do pure maths.

Sounds like a driving test really.

Let’s change gear.

Being a student of a “world-class” university, I expect that the courses on offer would be intriguing. Perhaps I’ll find a “Sexuality 123: The ABC of loving yourself.” or “Psychology 248: Stress, its implications and the importance of breathing.”. Ah, but I forget: university is a stepping stone to a job. So I expect to see “Web design 125: The importance of your online profile.” or “Business Management 101: How to start a business sans capital.”. No? How’s about “Accounting 100: Personal finances and surviving debt”? Or “Law 110: Your rights and obligations as an employee”?  Or, please!, “Tax 199: What the fuck is an ACC levy and why do I have to pay it?”

Sadly, no. Universities provide only one thing of value: the certificate.

So I lowered my sights. My requirements were simple: I was looking for a course I hadn’t done before, that I was allowed to do, that didn’t hold too many lectures and in some way attracted me.

It took a long time. Eventually, I found one: Russian 100. Simply, an introduction to the Russian language. I’m sure my reason for this is fairly straightforward.

Finding my second course took even longer, but I eventually had it: Wine Science 120. Simply: learning about, and tasting of, wines. After all, if you’re going to drink, you might as well make it worthwhile.

I have no idea how either of these courses apply to mathematics. But, on their completion, I will obtain a certificate proudly stating I can do maths. And that’s all that matters.