Getting Ahead of Ourselves...

Lately, I've been thinking about the female mind--particularly how it reacts to the presence of a new and interesting male in the immediate vicinity.

I've come to realize that much of our behavior toward the opposite sex (or same sex, depending on your preference) is the genetic remnant of a distant past, when we all lived in caves and wore the remnants of dead things instead of colourful synthetics or processed plant fiber.

Men were hunters, out to conquer the wild, which, of course, included the female half of the species. They wanted to procreate with as many women as possible in case the first batch of offspring was killed by disease, or eaten by a sabre tooth tiger.

Women, on the other hand, wanted their men to stick around and protect them from those sabre tooth tigers, or at the very least die romantically together of whatever disease was reducing the population that month, rather than hedging their bets with with that floozy down the mountain with the birthing hips and the super-short bear skin.

And that is why, in the present day, we women are genetically predisposed to get ahead of ourselves.

We meet an attractive man, and what's the first thing we do? Before we even know if he's available/straight/not a complete scumbag, we're pairing up his last name against our first to see how it sounds. Even those of us who don't have marriage on the brain are powerless to stop ourselves. Too many vowels? Maybe it would be better as a hyphenate? Oooh! Oooh! Put his name first and your name second, and it would be perfect! I wonder if he'd go for that? Hmmm...

Sparks fly, or perhaps fizzle half-heartedly on the sidewalk, and a first date is arranged. But wait! Oh no! Disaster! He has the same first name as your brother/father/uncle, won't that be awkward at the family reunion?

Before drinks have even been ordered, you're imagining how strange it will be when your aunt calls out "Frank!" and both your boyfriend and your uncle look up! How embarrassing! Well, one of them will just need a nickname. Clearly it will have to be the boyfriend, since the uncle has been around longer. Hmmm... what about Fred? Ugh, no. Well, maybe your aunt has a pet name for your uncle that she wouldn't mind calling him in public, because there is absolutely no way you are calling your boyfriend "Snugglebum" in front of your grandmother...

By the time the check comes, you've got that little snag worked out and are on to wondering how you'll convince him that your less-than-conventional baby names are nowhere near as wretched as "Bronx Mowgli"--and besides, don't they sound just darling with your newly hyphenated last name?--when you step outside and, in addition to the frigid night air, the cold fist of reality hits you straight in the face.

You and this man have nothing in common. The date was a total flop.

That bartender, however, was a total fox. I wonder what his last name is...