Inside the mind of a Toyboy
Men and women they’re pretty different aren’t they? Anatomically ladies have inny bits fortunately placed where men have outy bits. At certain points in their lives these opposing organs come together and complete the anthropomorphic jigsaw puzzle: and the participants either make affirmative celebratory noises at the puzzles completion or even more little people with inny and outy bits. Would this be the end of it, life would be simple – people flinging their equipment at eachother from one side of the boulevard to t’other, but it isn’t it. Human beings have evolved a strong social geography, forged in the bloody gender wars of the early 20th century, and then in the fragile peace that followed, sealed with a enetente bitter lemon-cordiale. Women on one side of the disco and men on the other.
If this wasn’t enough social geography to try and navigate, the one thing that unites everyone on this site is the reverence of ‘age-gap’. A beautiful thing I think we can all agree, but however narrow or wide your gap preference, we’re all left standing across the canyon peering at each other wondering exactly what it is the other lot are thinking. I think it’s only fair that someone should be elected from each camp to scribble down a few words of explanation onto some cotton bed sheeting and wave it as a banner so the other lot across the divide can see it.
Now I don’t claim to speak for all the younger men in this world, or indeed all the men on this site, that are enraptured by the [ahem, cough, ahem this gender divide is strewn with semantic anti-personnel mines] slightly more vintage femininity, but if I left it till my kind came up with a unanimous response, you’d all get bored of waiting and end up doing what we all fear; realizing that women are a far better prospect and getting on with relationships amongst yourselves. And besides by the time we’re finished the national language will be text-speak, and the sincerity of declaration is lost when translated to “we fink yr gr8”.
Please be aware that I’m breaking a solemn pact of brotherhood by leaking this information, remember when you girls got taken out of that school assembly to go and have a chat with Mrs Davenport about “the monthly cycle”? – well us men, still in the dusty old gym hall, were all made to swear that the complex workings of the male mind must remain a mystery upon pain of really enthusiastic wedgying. So how does the mind of a toyboy work? I know what you’re thinking, go on, say it out-loud… Sex… That no matter what age they are, all men care about is sex. That’s only partly true, yeah we think about it, but women do too, some more than others is a fair a comment to make, whether you have a Y or an X chromosome nestling up to the other X. I’ve seen loose women so you can’t fool me. Why is it that we find the [here we go again tip-toeing across incendiary country] marginally older girls more attractive-a-prospect?
I’ve heard theories, as I’m sure have you; scary Greek and Freudian fairytales, exoticism in taboos, Mrs Robinson complexes or harmonization of libido. But all this, all these explanations are looking too hard into the reasons for something we don’t even really need to explain. Seeing as I’ve started though, I might as well finish: for me it’s the irony of life: the aging process in women seems to have a wonderful knack of rejuvenating their spirit, girls in their 20’s try so hard at being mature that it comes off being hard edged, contrived and boring. The fractionally [once more unto the breach my friends] more biologically mature girls, let go of this in a frank acceptance of self and what life is all about. And that spreads virally across all aspects of life from conversation to bedroom gymnastics. Plus, you look better in boots.
Anyway, I guess I’m going to sign off by saying thank you for your continued tolerance of us, and on behalf of the nation of toyboys: we fink yr gr8.
By Dante Inflagrante
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