The Female Essence Factor

If you hadn't guessed, one of the key topics around here these past few weeks has been boy-girl and man-woman relationships and relationship dynamics.

The Beloved proffered this bit of wisdom about the Athlete:

He's a 17 year old boy. Trust me. He only wants one thing.

I objected to this over-generalization and went into a full-blown defense of the Athlete and of well-formed young men (rare though they may be) everywhere. I see a caring, socially responsible and well-rounded young man who's been respectful (other than the movie-smooch move) and far more patient with the Princess than a purely hormone-driven 17 year old boy might otherwise be. So the Beloved revised his analysis:

Okay, fine. They want to smell you, touch you, then have sex with you.

At that moment, the baby crawled into my lap, put his head down on my shoulder and started sniffing my neck (like his daddy, he loves my perfume) while petting my hair with the hand that was draped down my back. An instant later, he shoved his other cold little paw down into my decolletage, started patting my sternum, made his happy-boy cooing sounds, and then grinned at me, much to the Beloved's delight.

See, we're all the same. We can't help it. Pigs, pigs, pigs. Pigs from birth to 95.

He smirked at us and sauntered off to the living room, copping a quick neck-sniff, a smooch and a terrible eyebrow wiggle on his way past me and our happy little boy.

Not a dry eye in the kitchen.

Merci, Monsieur Cartier...