I Want Lots of Babies -- And Make Mine Ugly!
There's a super interesting story today in the WSJ about why women don't want to mate with "studs" (their term, not mine -- I love the WSJ but they've never been known for their "hip lingo" factor).
An excerpt: "At first glance, the "sexy son hypothesis" makes perfect sense. According to this pillar of evolutionary biology, a female who chooses a high-quality male will have sons who inherit dad's allure. They, too, will therefore have their pick of females, allowing mom to hit the jackpot: grandmotherhood.
"But when scientists [who tracked attractive male birds] found no such thing. The studs were so busy mating they had no time to raise offspring, causing their health and fecundity to suffer. Homelier birds were better dads, raising sons who had more mating success....The idea that females choose the genetically best males is wrong. Instead of choosing mates who will increase the genetic quality of their offspring, females make choices that will increase their number of offspring."
And with THAT, I have a new theory on why my love life is near-constantly in the shitter: all my boyfriends have been too awesome, thus forcing me to dump them! See, what I need is some guy with a sloped forehead, a raging case of halitosis, and the IQ of a strawberry, who won't be tempted to stray. He can therefore keep his pimply butt where it belongs, in our home, impregnating me time and time again adn showering love on our fugly, fugly offspring.
I don't know why these scientists were following birds around when they could have just been tracking me. Deep down, I must have known that permanently latching onto a professional rock climber who spoke fluent Japanese, played classical guitar, was a physician with a black belt in karate, a dynamo in the sack and had abs on which you could grate aged parmesean, had to be a crummy idea for me and our potential offspring. I kicked that overachieving "stud" to the curb! Sayonara indeed!
That ex of mine who has already published two books, has two more on the way, is working on a screenplay with a major motion picture director and is something of a media sensation in his own right? DEFINITELY too smart to consider staying at home and feeding and nuturing our babies, who would have had FANTASTIC, silky hair. Next!
Because I totally know what I'm doing evolutionally, I gave the big F-U to a sensitive triathlete sculpted out of solid muscle, who had two master's degrees, made great money, loved to take me out for foie gras and oysters and shower me with presents. OBVIOUSLY, the right move for me and my unborn babes.
Now, if only I could find someone mediocre enough to settle down with...
An excerpt: "At first glance, the "sexy son hypothesis" makes perfect sense. According to this pillar of evolutionary biology, a female who chooses a high-quality male will have sons who inherit dad's allure. They, too, will therefore have their pick of females, allowing mom to hit the jackpot: grandmotherhood.
"But when scientists [who tracked attractive male birds] found no such thing. The studs were so busy mating they had no time to raise offspring, causing their health and fecundity to suffer. Homelier birds were better dads, raising sons who had more mating success....The idea that females choose the genetically best males is wrong. Instead of choosing mates who will increase the genetic quality of their offspring, females make choices that will increase their number of offspring."
And with THAT, I have a new theory on why my love life is near-constantly in the shitter: all my boyfriends have been too awesome, thus forcing me to dump them! See, what I need is some guy with a sloped forehead, a raging case of halitosis, and the IQ of a strawberry, who won't be tempted to stray. He can therefore keep his pimply butt where it belongs, in our home, impregnating me time and time again adn showering love on our fugly, fugly offspring.
I don't know why these scientists were following birds around when they could have just been tracking me. Deep down, I must have known that permanently latching onto a professional rock climber who spoke fluent Japanese, played classical guitar, was a physician with a black belt in karate, a dynamo in the sack and had abs on which you could grate aged parmesean, had to be a crummy idea for me and our potential offspring. I kicked that overachieving "stud" to the curb! Sayonara indeed!
That ex of mine who has already published two books, has two more on the way, is working on a screenplay with a major motion picture director and is something of a media sensation in his own right? DEFINITELY too smart to consider staying at home and feeding and nuturing our babies, who would have had FANTASTIC, silky hair. Next!
Because I totally know what I'm doing evolutionally, I gave the big F-U to a sensitive triathlete sculpted out of solid muscle, who had two master's degrees, made great money, loved to take me out for foie gras and oysters and shower me with presents. OBVIOUSLY, the right move for me and my unborn babes.
Now, if only I could find someone mediocre enough to settle down with...
posted by Had To Move at 3:25 PM
2 Comments:
Find a middle manager who drives a Dodge Stratus, etc.
Soylent green is made of people! It's people, I tell you, people!
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