The Anger of the Monogamous Male

www.hardboiledmen.com

An older woman wore a pink shirt at the entrance to the place. She held on to a very small dog. It was the type of a dog that was typically owned by women half her age. It was the kind of a dog that young women enjoyed decorating with absurd flowery bowties and preposterous sweaters. But not this one, this tiny dog came as it was.
The woman was waiting for her gentleman friend who ordered up a morning’s coffee. She appeared peaceful. Maybe it had something to do with the dog. Perhaps she was simply a mellow type. With age came perspective and nothing in life was really worth worrying about.
She did not even seem too anxious when the confused heroine addict bumped into her leash as he stumble out to the street with a half used cigarette in his hand. She remained at ease throughout the passing minutes and was more than gracious when the young junky asked her for a light.
“I am sorry but I do not smoke, smoking is bad for your skin tone” she affably replied.
The young man was neither appreciative nor disappointed. He was more concerned with sustaining gravity.
Despite the collective displays of serenity, I felt uneasy. Natalia was more than twenty five minutes late. I was never one for tardy characters. Thankfully, the irritating ambulance sirens rang through Powell Street and validated my status as the only non-enlightened individual in the coffee shop. This New Yorker never truly molded into that granola flavored San Francisco consciousness.
I walked up to the large counter and ordered myself another medium cup of flavored coffee. The radio played a song by the Beatles. I believe it was I ‘m Looking Through You off of the Rubber Soul album.
“Guy? Hey, what’s going on dude?”
Vivek smiled from behind his small table. In between us stood a homeless woman that leaned on her rusty blue cart. In it, she housed all of her worldly belongings. She stood there like an out garden figurine. Off the tip of her outer lip dripped discontent.
“Come join me,” he cordially invited me.
I did.
“What’s new in the life and times of Mr. university professor?” he wanted to know.
“Nothing too important,” I admitted, “life is life.”
“Working on any interesting research projects?”
“Nothing at the moment.”
“Oh really? Nothing? Any exciting academic projects?”
“Nothing to report, but forget about me, my life is boring, what about you? What are you reading these days?”
He did not mind the change in focus.
“I just finished a six hundred page book about North Korea called Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader by Bradley Martin. It was an amazing book about the inner working of the North Korean regime. What are you reading these days?”
“I started reading three different books,” I said “two of them are novels, one Auster and one Russo but I abandoned both around page sixty. I can never keep focus these days. The third book is my own academic manuscript that is almost too boring for anyone to stay awake. I put a copy of it in my bathroom and catch a quick page read every time I take a shit.”
“Well, I guess that can be a productive place to work.”
“Not me, I am blessed with super quick bowl movements.”
Vivek, as always, was all smiles. The guy did not have a bad bone in his entire Indian body. Maybe it had to do with that Asian karma business. Maybe it had to do with good family DNA. The most impressive thing about this guy was the fact that he was the best read person that I have ever run into. Try to catch him unprepared and he was ten steps ahead of you.
“Every read Crazy Cock by Henry Miller?”
“Of course, it is a classic.”
“How about Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky?”
“A Cloud in Trousers is one of my all time favorites.”
“Goethe?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“Me you son of a bitch.”
He must have noticed just how irritated I grew as I continuously looked at my watch. Natalia, you fucking bitch, how do you keep a man waiting for so long? What ever happened to mutual respect? If there is no respect, there is no love.
“You seem angry.”
“I am not angry, I am mad.”
“What a fine distinction.” he smiled. “But do not feel too bad, all monogamous men are angry by default, it is not entirely your fault, it is a genetic condition. It is a pain inflicted upon all men by the very construct of the modern times and the very institution of monogamous relationships.”
Vivek was about to present another one of his world famous theses, I was not about to get in his way.
“The male specie is biologically programmed for polygamy. Evolutionary forces require the male to spread his seed to as many female vaginas as possible. It is an evolutionary must. It is a basic biological premise that ensures the survival of the human specie across time.”
I have heard these types of theories before. Vivek was stating the obvious in the world of men but such logic failed in the world of women. I presented my counterargument.
“You are correct in stating the obvious. There are mixed evidence in regards to females and monogamy. On the one hand, female promiscuity does improve the genetic pool. On the other hand, female monogamy does present certain advantages in the wild in regards to the survival of its offspring. In other words, females are programmed for monogamy while the male for polygamy.”
“So what are you saying?” I scratched my nose across its surface.
“I am arguing that all monogamous males are intrinsically frustrated at their core level by the institution of monogamy. We could have all been swinging our dicks freely if it wasn’t for women and the bloody sword of organized religion.”
Vivek excused himself for a moment. His enthusiastic talk along with the large herbal tea led to a abrupt urge to take a piss. While he was gone, I inspected Powell Street through the window with the hope of finding my Natalia. She was nowhere to be seen.
Near the window, I saw a couple holding hands. I could only see the man’s back. I had no idea why he was scratching his leg in a repeated motion. The woman reminded me of my ex-girlfriend Maria. She had dark Mexican hair and had a tear in her eye.
Vivek may have been correct about the inert anger of the monogamous male but her knew very little about the pain of being a woman.
We sat around the coffee shop for thirty more minutes. Vivek introduced chemical composition into his former argument.
I ordered a large chocolate brownie that was full of nuts. Natalia always argued that I need to drastically cut down my intake of junk food if I ever planned on loosing that gut. But she was not there to give me that famous worried look. I devoured the chocolaty pile of sugar within a quick minute.
An hour later, Vivek and I decided to head out Chinatown where we hoped to find some cheap imitation watches. I lost my old silver watch down on Royal Street last month on a trip to New Orleans.
Natalia did not show up on that morning. She later explained that she woke up angry for no apparent reason.