I have failed the 'love test'

Is it just me or has dating changed since the days of the Great Depression? Ask any woman around about the characteristics that she would like her ideal partner to possess, and you would hear ‘a sense of humour’, ‘independent’, ‘must love cats’ and ‘he should be mobile’. So women like guys who laugh a lot? Or is that men who can make them laugh a lot? I imagine my female friends going ‘duuuh, of course’! It is, however, not that simple, my dear friends. Firstly, how will I make you laugh if I do not know what is funny to you? Oh, I get it. I ought to find out, right? Here is a thought for you; shouldn’t you also have a sense of humour to appreciate my attempts at being the next Charlie Chaplin? As for being a cat lover, I am not a cat person. I am more of a dog person. Let’s face it, guys, cats are too soft, always clean and hardly outside in the sun - always snuggled up on “daddy’s sofa” in the living room. I am not even sure if cats respond to their names. Imagine how you would call a cat. “Peanuts, come to daddy, Peanuts,” or “Garfield, no … don’t touch that ball of wool … NO, GARFIELD!” That, my dear friends, is not how I roll! There is just no way I would make my gravelly voice soft so I ‘do not scare the poor thing’ when calling a cat. “Killer, get him! Get your lazy dog behind over here, Killer!” Now that is what I am talking about. As for being mobile; does that mean owning an expensive cell phone or a car? Seriously, and I am sure I am not the only one in this boat, since when has Cosmopolitan Magazine been the ideal relationship guide? Imagine coming home to find your partner in the doorway, tears rolling down her face and panting heavily. You immediately react. “Maria, what is wrong … what happened?” She just stares at you, motionless as if stuck by lightning. “Honey, what IS it?” you insist. Finally she looks up, into your eyes, holding back her tears and as her lips part you barely make out the words: “You lied to me … you LIED to me, Charlie.” You freeze, scanning your mind for all those dark, horrid lies you told her about you owning a farm and 50 shebeens in Kuisebmond. At one point, you even think of confessing about Petronella – the woman she knows as only being a ‘sister’ to you. But you hold back the confession and bravely ask; “What are you talking about, honey?” “You said you loved me … it is not true … you lied to me, Charlie.” At this moment your mind goes complete blank. Then thoughts of confessing about Petronella slowly come to the fore again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. Of course I love you!” “No … I took the test … I did a test on our love and it came out the wrong way. According to Cosmopolitan you are not in touch with the inner me and ought to do more with the time you have on your hands…” “Cosmopolitan, as in the French magazine, told you that?” “American … not French. Cosmopolitan is from the States. And it didn’t tell me, I did the calculations myself based on the ‘Yes’ factor.” “The ‘Yes’ factor?” “Yes. It’s all about calculating how many times you said yes to me during our conversation over the past few days, and how many times you disagreed with me. The rate is then determined based on how many times we had an argument won by you…” Eish, such is the new state of affairs nowadays. I know of brothers that would try out every single piece of advice given to them by their friends about their partners. For instance, if a certain dude comes to his friends for advice, they would tell him, “Dude, you are too soft. You ought to show her who wears the pants in the house.” When he gets home, and upon realising his partner is clad in her favourite blue jeans, he yells, “Take off those jeans! I should be the only one wearing pants in this house…” Ja, that’s what happens when you take some advice literally. Until then… [email protected]