"Women say they want a nice guy to settle down with when what they really mean is they want a barbarian. It is semantics that always gets them into trouble".
Stephen takes a long drag from his cigarette, pushes the smoke to his lungs and back out again, satisfied. His female companion Beatrice sits opposite at the restaurant table sipping a glass of water and listening intently to her friend's views.
"They crave brutality. They thrive on chaos, disorder and disarray. I don't mean physically. I meant to say 'intellectually'...perhaps spiritually too. How do you compete with that? I'm completely confounded. Take for example, a dream I had recently.
In this dream, I was in a supermarket with a very beautiful woman, she asked me to fetch a couple of pork cuts from the delicatessen. Of course, I am very eager to please this lady and not simply because she is aesthetically pleasing but also I like her spirit and attitude. That is to say, I am very fond of this woman and I want to impress her. Off I wander through the supermarket towards the delicatessen, eager, willing and feeling positive within myself that I shall fetch this gracious lady the finest pork cutlets and she will be most pleased".
Stephen coughs slightly before taking another long steady drag from his cigarette, then continues.
"So anyway, I arrive at the delicatessen counter and there is a wonderful array of cold cuts...I'm seeing everything; beef, chicken, turkey, varieties of beef, varieties of chicken, ox tongue, ox tail, and this and that and just about every meat one can find in a modern day supermarket...all except the pork. I ask the assistant at the counter, 'Where's the pork?' She replies, 'Don't have any'. I was like, 'What on earth do you mean?' She replied once again, 'Don't have any'. I check the display counter from end to end, observing and critiquing, in some vain attempt to discover the assistant was somehow mistaken. Nothing. I check, double check and check once more. Begrudgingly, I concede that alas, there is no pork in any way, shape or form".
Beatrice can barely contain her laughter, she raises the glass of water to her lips and takes a sip of water to calm her. Stephen decks out his cigarette into the dingy metal ashtray and proceeds to light another cigarette. He offers Beatrice a smoke but she declines on account of having recently got over a chest infection and she was trying to cut back. Anyway, the smoke from the cigarettes always blew over into her direction. She could do little to stop it from entering her body. However, she did not want to annoy her friend by asking him to cease his endless chain-smoking, after all his nerves were bad.
Stephen holds the unlit cigarette in his left hand and searches his trouser pocket for the lighter. He fumbles about incessantly. Beatrice wonders if he is pulling himself off. The urge to laugh builds once more, although she manages to control herself. Stephen produces a red lighter from out of his pocket and lights the cigarette. After yet another long and careful drag, he continues recounting the dream.
"So, where was I? Oh, yes. There is no pork. Not one cut or morsel. Most irregular, I concur. I ask the assistant, 'Why is there no pork? This mystery must be solved!' The assistant replies, 'Don't have any'. By this time, I am flustered beyond belief. If I could not produce the pork then all was lost. I make a dash to the fridge section. Surely the pork cutlets would be found there. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her in one of the aisles shopping and I completely and utterly panic. I assumed she was spying on me. Interestingly, she was browsing items in the perfumery section.
"Why is that interesting?" asked Beatrice.
Stephen considers his use of the word 'interesting' and analyses why he used that particular word. Why was it 'interesting'? What was she looking at? Think. Associate. Smell. Sensuality. Eroticism. Sex. Lust. Desire.
Beatrice awaits an answer from her troubled friend. Stephen had annoyed himself by using a word flippantly. Was there really anything interesting or meaningful in her standing in the perfumery section browsing overpriced fragrances? All he could think of was the stereotypical association with fashion accessories. In turn, he now associates this with the female obsession with beauty. Finally, he believes he has discovered the meaning and announces:
"It is interesting because she was mocking me with her femininity. In my dream, she could have been standing anywhere, but when I glance at her she stands blatantly perusing fragrances, soaps and facial creams".
It is clear to Beatrice that Stephen's latent fear of women is being hindered by overly imaginative interpretations of self-help psychoanalysis manuals...possibly from some Californian crank posing as an expert in such matters. Stephen continues.
"I began to sweat profusely, my heartbeat races ahead of me and I become tremendously nervous. I am convinced she is spying on me, secretly desiring me to fail in my endeavour to please her. See! That is a woman all over. I finally reach the fridges and walk past endless packets of chicken breasts and fillets, onto beef steaks and the various cuttings. No pork! Nothing. I search the fridges high and low. Nothing. By this time I am growing hysterical for I knew I was going to fail her. All is lost".
Beatrice puts on a solemn face for her friend to react too. Stephen blows out a large plume of smoke and lets out a deep sigh. For a few seconds neither of them speak. Stephen gazes at a female waitress serving across the room at a bar. Beatrice pulls a piece of white fluff from off the collar of her blouse. Stephen ceases looking the waitress and continues.
"So, I walk back dejectedly, dragging my feet, the crushing weight of defeat upon my shoulders. She's standing near the entrance talking on her mobile phone with a smirk etched upon her beautiful porcelain face, her brown hair radiant and shining under the strip lights of the supermarket. I can't understand what she's saying. I think she might be speaking in code. I'm not sure. But don't you see? It's an age old problem. Women want men to perform unassailable tasks for their own amusement. And we men, like dim-witted fools bend over backwards to please".
Stephen realises his impassioned speech is not impressing Beatrice one iota. He shakes his head from side to side. Beatrice brushes her shoulder length brown hair behind her ears and smiles.
"So, what do you think the dream means?", she asks.
Stephen hunches his shoulders and sighs.
"Isn't it obvious? Women enjoy destroying men! It is in their nature. Do this, do that, I really meant this, I really meant that", he replies.
"Aren't pork cutlets your favourite?" says Beatrice, suspiciously.
"Yes, of course".
"You know the quickest way to man's heart?" she asks.
"Through his chest?" replies Stephen.
Beatrice shakes her head.
"Through his stomach, silly".
