This I must know if I Were a Woman for a Day

By tickler

Son of the Unquenched

The conundrum

As I write this, I’m driven by an urge of curiosity. Attempts to satisfy this curiosity has in many instances proven futile. I realized I was dealing with an elusive creature that is a conundrum of what constitutes and makes a woman.

I have come to understand nature than I do women. I mean, it’s easier to put bits and pieces together to conclusively tell what the wild needs and wants than humans in the form of female species. I have come to realize that even wild animals communicate easily and with all ease in their own terms and gesture expressing their desires openly without compromise. The language of the wild and the animal kingdom is what I’m yet to establish. I assume it’s gibberish but that’s beside the point.

               

Science has tried its level best in uncovering what surely makes a woman. Science tells of a tale of great intellectuals with ability to multitask, grasp and think better than their male species. Science also believes that she endures pain than he. A man wouldn’t endure pain but confront it. A man will not endure pain without responding to the epicenter of the entire aggression thus easily predictable. That aside, my point of focus is the puzzle that torments my mind and arouses lots of curiosity. What really constitutes a woman? I’m therefore tempted to assume her nature for a day and uncover my most sought answers to points of interest.

How thick is the line between moods?

I need to know why it is too hard to put a smile upon thy face and yet so easy to irk thee. The woman I know at dawn isn’t the same as the one I meet at tea break. At lunch hour you seem to regain your form back only to assume another at dusk. What is that switch that dims and brightens your mood? Is it located somewhere behind your brain, in the ventricles of your hearts, under your skin or is it just the way I look or what I do and say at any moment in time? I need an imaginary thickness of the boundary between mood swings so that I can measure how many yards to the positive electrode before you burn and sulk. I don’t want to burn the switch. This I would establish if I were a woman in a day.

Looking good and beautiful, for whom?

I don’t wear makeup for anybody, you say. You insist you’ve to wear that skimpy skirt for this and that occasion. I tell you it’s revealing too much and you tell me it’s for your esteem and you want to look curvy for me. I have agreed to your sentiments but I don’t know why it feels so tormenting when this other man stares at your backside with intent. Is it because I’m jealous or you want me to? My cleavage is meant for you to see. I have heard this over and over again. Why do I find you excited when other men peep into it yet you say it is not for them? I need to know whom do you look good and beautiful for. I can only tell if I were you for a day.

Why does it take you five minutes to bathe and an hour and half to get ready?

Before you get into the bath tub you already had sampled and ironed what you intend to wear. You’ve tried the same dress severally and instead have decided to prepare another one. You’ve had it every day and wore it often even a week ago, clad it on many occasions. Is it because you’ve become a gigantic monster overnight that it can no longer fit you or is it lacking the attention it had? Is it that you’ve just noticed flaws of your body that you don’t want noticed or perhaps you’ve noticed your breasts have dilated overnight and want to shrink them in a single session while I still remain patient waiting for you? Your bosom and bums have always been yours and I haven’t seen them grow instantaneously. Is it the acne or that little pimple at your forehead that needs urgent diagnostic attention? Have you discovered it today when we are about to miss that important appointment or just trying to annoy me? I’m thinking these are some of the things that take all the time. I need to confirm what’s keeping me waiting for an hour and half while you “prepare” yourself. In a day I must know.

Could “Yes” be a “No” or otherwise?

I must say your YES sometimes if not most times is not convincing. Why does it sound like a NO especially when it’s my turn to seek financial aid from you? Your YES seems near NO. Your NO on the other hand seemingly sounds like a YES in some instances especially at times when you play hide and seek with me. I must confess it takes intellectual acumen to see it as a YES otherwise I would starve of lack of conjugation. I’m managing quiet well so far. I need to know when a NO is actually NO and when YES is a definite YES. Near NO is what you posses and perhaps I could distinctively segregate them if I were a woman for a day.

What would I prefer between a skirt and a pair of trousers?

I presume a skirt is adequately air conditioned and well ventilated considering it’s openness above the knees. However, if so, why does it seem like you no longer prefer a skirt and opt for a pair of pants most times. Is it because the skirt guts in too much air that you can’t handle? Is it because the skirt could expose your secretive interiors unannounced or it can’t let you sit carelessly as you do in a pair of pants? Doesn’t the trouser hurt and squeeze? Considering your body anatomy below thy belt, I find the trouser a bit disturbing. Doesn’t it squeeze you and perhaps blister you private quarters? This I must know if I were you in a day dear.

How does it feel to orgasm?

In a day, I must engage in a sexual adventure. I would love to feel the phenomena and uncover the mystery behind orgasm. You look electrifying and yet electrocuted when you say you’re climaxing. It seems like bordering on pain and pleasure. Is it a combination of both? If it’s a combination of both, then it sure is a winning and whining combination on the face of it and the response that I get. The way you moan and grab my body with your sharp nails like a sprinting tigress, tells and says aloud that the moment is phenomenon. Why then does it look like you loathe me at that particular moment and at the same time express how you love me? I need to peel off the skin behind the mystery in a day.

When are you faking orgasm?

Do you really cum every time we make love? Do you fake it at times and how often? You could easily fool me alright. Unlike me, there isn’t evidence to ascertain if it’s genuine or a big fuss. You could easily get away with it you know. Does it feel equally pleasurable even when I’m soaked in mud after a drinking spree and I stink of booze stench? Do you really cum when I forced you into it without you wanting while you cite fatigue? I really I’m curious of knowing this in a single day.

Where does it feel pleasurable to be touched?

Besides the mysterious spot that you talk about often and which I imagine I touch, I notice you also are interested of touch in some other stimulating points. My hands have been cluttering all over blindly. They are just trying to locate the magical spots that seemingly please you. Please don’t mind their carelessness. If I only knew where you would want me to touch, then I would gladly comply and focus there without having to meander all over. Is it your bosom, bums, feet, face, thighs or perhaps some other place? I’m in a waterloo. Only being you for a day would solve this mystery.

Between wealth and the man, where is your love?

You say you love me and would go all the way with me regardless. Alright, I believe you. However, from what I gather, my wealth too has to be where I am with you. Please pardon me if you sincerely can hang for my love. It’s only that what your friends are doing scares me out of my skin. Why is there so much disquiet when I say I’m broke and could go bankrupt? I’m willing to make a prenuptial agreement but I have seen marriages break in a fortnight while a prenuptial is written. Could you do the same to me? When I was penny less, you denied me but when I became wealthy, you said you sought your heart and found love. I’m but cautious. In a day perhaps I would find out where love reigns,

How do you keep such secrets?

I understand and I have been told you are the most secretive species of the humans. Science says you can easily multitask without much ado. What’s that secret you dread telling me? How do you manage to conceal it that long without being caught? I have tried to multitask with other members of your flock but you nabbed me before cock’s crow. I spy on you often but my efforts have proved fruitless every time I snitch on you. Could you be multitasking with one of my close members of my flock without my knowledge? I’m worried of how many you’ve got in the sack. By the look of things, several are in it. If I were you for a day, perhaps I would learn how to and how you do it.

Submission

The aforesaid ten aspects are my curious points of focus in understanding what women really want and feel. Perhaps we could treat them appropriately if we knew certain things like the ones highlighted and probably becoming one in a day would solve the mystery behind the female gender. My curiosity is not limited to these. I confess there are so may not put down on paper.

I wouldn’t want to remain a woman beyond a day though, not long enough to make me pregnant. I have so much adventure while on this other side of human species. I fathom better the devil I know than the angel that is elusive and I barely know. Considering the challenges I hear and some that I have come to understand about women, I’m enjoying being a man hitherto. Twenty four hours would be sacrifice.

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