A Tale of Beasts Who Were, For a Time, Men

So we went on the train together... and that's when you said:

G: So there's this guy that we hang out with. He's a friend, but you should know... he's a little in love with me.

B: Uhm...

G: O my God... don't get that look on your face!

B: What? I'm just saying...

G: What? My friends are really nice! He's really nice!

B: Yeah, but you're just not understanding.


Hetero men are, at best, wolves. Wolves who like beer and naked chicks, but wolves nonetheless. We travel in little groups, battling for alpha status and lying to our friends about that desire for status. I don't know why we do this. I just know that we do this. Maybe its about sex? No idea... But we're protective and creepy and repressed and bloodthirsty.

So introducing a new wolf to the group, especially when that wolf is sleeping with you, is a dangerous proposition. The woman of the group is seen as the mother. Wolfmothers, in relationship to prehistoric life, were the stuff of fantasy and fairy tale. Adopted wolfmoms claimed the hearts of beastmen even when they didn't seek that heart, and someone giving you their heart is quite a commitment.

When they have to watch you give that heart to someone else, not of their clan, expect conflict.

I am, by no means, a judicator, so this conflict will not be settled in a logical or legal way. I'm a wolf too and I'm ruled primarily by that code. I'd deny it, but I'm of the mind that denying the self is dangerous, so I might as well learn its drive and try to at least take that nature seriously enough to be fair to it and try to give it a proper place in my life and in my societal weavings. To that end, I let testosterone take over and come out of my pores. I walked tall, kept her hand in mine, and behaved as any caveman would in jeans and a buttonup: I smiled a rakish smile and let their eyes trail over me.

When you're in full cavedude form as a guy, your mouth says words that your body finds pussified. In turn, a dual conversation begins to occur with scent betraying language.

"Hi, nice to meet you all"
My eye contact indicates that if you fuck with me, the world will smell like blood for days.

"Oh, you're Reece?"
I know you like our friend, but I'll fucking kill you if you hurt her.

"Yeah, that's me. The whole crew is here, eh? Great day for a game... the weather is perfect!"
I'm not intimidated by the fact that its five guys to one. In fact, I like those odds.

Even when we don't speak, we're talking to each other. You might be looking at me with affection or just listening to me, but the guys are all watching for the move of a hand or the kiss. Each time it happens, its an affront. Why? Because every time is a reminder to him that he's not going to get the chance to fuck you (at least not right now... you never know) and that's just plain old injustice when you're a wolf because... hey, everybody wants to fuck the machoman right?

--

I survived the date.

Thank Jeebus.