ESSAY ON MAN
Man is what a woman marries.
Men have two feet, two hands, and sometimes two wives, but never more than one collar button or one idea at a time. Like cigarettes, men are all made of the same material, the only difference is that some are better disguised than others. Generally speaking, they may be divided into three categories - husbands, bachelors, and widowers. An eligible bachelor is a man of obstinacy surrounded with suspicion. Husbands are of three varieties - prize, surprise and consolation prize. Making a husband out of a man is one of the highest plastic arts known to civilization. It requires science, sculpture, and common sense, faith, hope, and charity – mostly charity. It is a psychological marvel that a soft, fluffy, tender, violet-scented, sweet thing like woman should enjoy kissing a big awkward, stubbly-chinned, tobacco-scented thing like a man.
If you flatter a man, it frightens him to death, and if you don't you bore him to death. If you permit him to make love to you, he gets tired of you in the end, and if you don't, he gets tired of you in the beginning.
If you wear gay colors, make-up, and startling hats, he hesitates to take you out. If you wear a little brown toque and tailor-made suit, he takes you out and stairs all evening at a woman in Gate colors, make up, and a startling hat.
If you are a clinging-vine type, he doubts whether you have a brain. If you are the modern type, an advanced and independent woman, he doubts whether you have a heart. If you are surly he longs for a bright mate, and if you are brilliant, he longs for a playmate. If you are popular with other men, he is jealous, and if you are not, he hesitates to marry a wallflower. If you please him, he seldom mentions it, but if you displays him, he never fails to tell you about it, especially if you are his wife.
That's all!
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