This story is not about sour grapes.

At my age,which is many times over my teenage years,I have no illusions about my looks.

I’m not handsome.

No lady would be dying to share my ‘ugly’ life.

That said,let’s now wade in the gist of my story.

I like boxing.

It’s crude and primal.

It’s blood, gore and aggression.

And it’s downright dirty.

You use your knuckles to pound another man’s head until they submit to you.

Until they hit the canvas and see their lights go off.

Until the ref looks into their eyes and sees defeat and submission.

It’s a man’s sport.

And I like Floyd Mayweather, Jnr. I like him because he is a loud mouth,like Tyson, well, that is before he developed a taste for uncooked human ears.

I like Floyd because although he toots his
horn, he ends up pounding you.

He puts his mouth where his fist is, or rather he puts his fist where your mouth is:42 fights and 42 wins should mean something.

The man is an animal.

One problem though, Floyd calls himself “pretty boy”.

Men shouldn’t get to that point where they think of themselves as pretty.

Men aren’t pretty; kittens are pretty,women are pretty, flowers are pretty, so are puppies and
small babies with pacifiers sticking out their mouths.

To say you are a pretty boy is to liken yourself with something feminine, something breakable, something fragile.

You know?

Something that bruises easy.

Men should be men, if you need a nickname it should be something hard, something beastly or risqué, like RAMBO or, well, you know what I mean.

Something that doesn’t have pretty in it.

But it’s a given that some men tend to wander towards that cliff, where they embrace that side
of their femininity.

Here is a story I only tell when I’m drunk. Er, sit pretty,this is weird.

I have this friend of mine,let’s call him Edward.

He is into big money.

He rolls on the best wheels that money can buy.

His Mansion draws envy of most men.

He is single.

He is-wait for this!-beautiful!

He knows about skin moisturisers,hair shampoos,manicure,pedicure-name it.

He is obsessive about his looks and cleanliness.

His last girlfriend happens to be an ex-girlfriend.

We are still on friendly terms,having completely moved on from a relationship that never worked for me.

She left him too.

That’s no big deal.

Men are being dumped everyday by their girlfriends.

But something she said about why she left him drew my dried up curiosity into their former relationship.

This guy,she told me,made her feel dirty.

He couldn’t be persuaded to make love for whatever reason without a condom.

And he always showered meticulously after that.

He boiled and washed all his underclothes,especially after getting intimate with her.

He boiled and ironed all his handkerchiefs.

He slept in a separate bed,and only made contact whenever it was necessary to fulfil his biological needs.

He disinfected the toilet seat every time he had to use it.

Full mouth kiss to him is like licking a dump pit.

In short,he drove my ex crazy with his fussiness.

He can’t trust anyone to pair his socks.

They were the only ones living in his house.

“I just couldn’t stand the way he is so fussy about his looks and the standard of his personal hygiene that bordered on pathological obsession”. She told me.

As I complete writing this piece,I realise that my socks and shoes are littering my sitting room,my bed has been unmade since morning,there is a heap of clean laundry over my bed that should have been packed away into the wardrobe last week.

These may be the very same things that drove my ex-girlfriend away-total disorder in my life.

I’m now surprised to know that perfect order drove her away from the most “pretty” man she ever met.

Life is full of ironies,but I’m pissed of by the irony of a “perfect” man driving away his beautiful girlfriend by being so orderly!

Mind you,I’ve just told you this story in my most sober moment.

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®