I’m spending the morning in the Creature Coffee, writing a bit, sipping a bit, lolling a bit, waiting for Bridgette to get out of the greenhouse and come get me. There are a slew of late-teen boys playing Halo and sharing their knowledge of the inner workings of the universe.
“Dude, girls are easy to deal with. You just control what they think, and they’ll do anything you want.”
“Oh, yeah? [considers] Yeah, sure, that’s right.”
“You just control the ball of energy where they are, and they’ll think whatever you want them to.”
“Dude, that’s not –”
“No, really. It’s like…you control your emotions, and you control yourself. Girls are slaves to their emotions. You always hear them saying they did something because they felt bitchy or whatever. Slaves, dude.”
“So you just control what they think, and that changes what they feel. Anything you want.”
[nodding all around, satisfied and pleased they are outies, not innies]
I did not laugh. I did not grin, even. I did not suggest that emotions that are locked down are emotions that are controlling you without your being aware of it. I, especially, did not put in a challenge for any of them to go a week without wanking.
“Slaves to emotion.” Hah! Boys are more basic than that. Slaves to hydraulics. Wake, up outies, your seminal vesicles are calling you. I was sorry that no nubile maids came through. The conversation would have been:
“…control your emotions, and you control…[door opens, slim girl walks in]…oooh, pretty….”
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry