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Brotherhood of the Belly

November 12, 2008

Research has proven that snoring evolved as a security measure, a horrible sound echoing from the cave and warning predators, No, no; no tasty morsels are snoozing in here, only grumbling monsters! Keep out!

Or so my partner claims.

He explains this to me over cereal one morning, nodding and grinning to drive home his point. “You just think I was keeping you awake and being rude, but really, I was protecting you! It’s evolution!”

I sit, bleary from a sleepless night, shoveling oats from bowl to mouth, crunch, swallow, repeat. The bed shook through the night, tremors stirring the mattress as his chest rose and fell, the deafening ZZZZZZZZZZZZ scaring my own sleep away.

“Perhaps,” I suggest, gently because he seems so proud of this theory, “perhaps you did too good a job of protecting me last night?”

Later, rested and in a more charitable mood, I have to agree, he has a point, he is probably right. What creature would venture into a dark dead-end cave, closing its ears to the roar rumbling from within?

He has presented similarly shaky but strangely viable “evidence” to support the development of a chubby belly (meaning a good mate, a well-fed one capable of feeding his family, too), assuring me that a bit of insulation indicates a robust physique. Absence of starvation. A sign of good health. I don’t argue with this one. I have a soft spot for bellies, never mind whether they mean I’ll be well-fed too.

Greying sideburns and salt-and-pepper hair? Not signs of decline, but banners of experience–a man who’s been around long enough to learn a few things.

A messy home? Industrious! Inventive! Things on the go. Lots of things. Things far more important than tidying up, than taking out the trash, than pulling up the bedsheets or wiping down the sink. Things like buying me flowers, cooking fine suppers, building a blanket fort and planning next week’s adventures.

Again, I am persuaded to agree…persuaded to admit that, like women made sexier by a careful balance between chaos and grace, who wants a man that’s been polished to a shine?

Not I.

Perfection is not evolution, it’s just an artificial hide tossed over the real man like a disguise.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. Carrie permalink
    November 12, 2008 7:10 pm

    Now, how do you make someone believe it?

    I enjoyed this series.

  2. Amanda permalink
    November 12, 2008 10:41 pm

    I know this sounds assy, but the neighbourhood where I live snuggles a trendy clubby district, and often when we’re out for drinks or gelato or pizza or a stroll, I turn to my boyfriend and say, “Thank you for not being one of these dickheads,” meaning the dudes swarming around us with gym memberships, money, speedy cars, HOTT girls on their arms and not a single ounce of creativity or spark in their bodies.

  3. looka permalink
    November 13, 2008 5:43 am

    Carrie, B is a perfect Specimen too, no?

    My belly is keeping itself in terms, but sitting down all day has it growing! Can’t say I’m against it, as I too, provide survival thru creativity!

    I thougt I was on my own with this…

    Sounding assy, but feeling right.

  4. amy permalink
    November 16, 2008 11:11 am

    Amanda, you put it so well. I often thank my husband for not being one of “those guys.” Maybe we’re snobs, but at least we have each other.

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