Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Deo Gratia!

So today I got a book! It came in a brown cardboard wrap, in the mail and was addressed to me, but there was no covering letter to say who it was from, but I have a pretty shrewd suspicion – I am known for my intuition and my ability to carry out Mental Detection. Being a Mental Detective is quite a good occupation, because you don't have to get out of bed to do it., And if you do get out of bed, you don't have to bathe or dress, you can do it in your pyjamas, or nightie, or nothing at all. There is no particular requirement to be a Mental Detective other than have some spare time in which to do it. And, of course, have a natural ability or Gift.

The book was, or indeed, still is, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos and that is rather appropriate because I am a blonde, and gentlemen do seem to prefer me, and even though I don't prefer them, it sometimes pays to let them think I do. So I do. Which is not really a terrible hardship as they like to show their appreciation and who doesn't appreciate being appreciated?

The book is written as a Diary, by a blonde who is also appreciated and preferred, so in a kind of a way it is a very appropriate gift to give me. Even by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. Or simply forgot to put his name in it. Obviously it is a Man, for who else would send me a book about the attractiveness of Blondes to Men? It simply speaks for itself. Much the same as I do, too.

And the thought came into my head that Gentlemen – or put more simply, Men – seem to think that Girls – or put more simply, Blondes – must also prefer them! Which is not really logical, but then Men aren't anyway. They employ transference, which is when you project your feelings onto another. Or put simply, because they fancy the pants off her, they assume that she fancies the pants off them. For men, or most men, or to be honest, ALL Men, are really just the same. It doesn't matter if they are tall or short, fat or thin, handsome or ugly, which just about covers them all – oh, yes, smart or dumb – they see a Girl, a Blonde Girl, and fancy the pants off her, therefore, she must fancy ther pants of them in return. Ergo: all men are Stupid! I've met a lot of Men, and been had by a lot of Men, and a lot more men think they've had me, but they haven't!

It's quite easy to fool a Man, in fact it's very easy, once you know how. But this isn't a kiss-and-tell story, no names, no cocks-up! It's just a chance for me to shmooze which, I must admit, can be lot more fun than sex – with a Man! But don't get me wrong – if you've read anything at all that I've posted you'll know that the Loves of My Life are Women; I've never made any bones about it – excuse the pun – writing pretty freely about my Sexual Preferences, Proclivities, Inclinations, Activities.

People seem to make a Big Deal out of Sex and I can't for the life of me see why! I mean, okay it usually happens indoors, in the dark, in bed, but apart from that, why is everyone so hypocritical about it? They all want to keep their exploits secret, having sex in cars, in cupboards, in secret, in hotels, in bed, in the dark and are scared stiff – excuse the pun – of being seen by their friends, their mothers, their wives, their Bank Managers; but at the same time they avidly read those newspapers who make a speciality of exposing the sex lives of celebrities, of footballers, of politicians, of vicars, of famous chefs. And the worst of these hypocrites are Men!

So when I read Ms Loos book, I do chuckle at the knuckle-heads who pursue the narrator. She winds them round her pretty little finger and flits from one to another like a butterfly, doing the old pollen thing, but never losing any sleep over them. And none of them get it!

I have always loved the movie, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes with Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, but this is the first time I have read the book and while I could never see myself as MM, I can see aspects of myself – well, my younger myself – in Lorelei, the Blonde heroine/narrator. I remember

first hearing about the Johari Window. It is a depiction of the different selves we all have. There is the Self we know about and so do others; then the self we know about but which is hidden from others; then the self which others see but we are ourselves unaware of; and finally that wee small window into the self that both we and others know nothing about. Clever, eh?

But that's one of the things about Mental Detection: no-one knows how you do it, they ooh and aah and wonder and gasp and shake their heads and thank you profusely for sorting out their problems and you yawn and take a sip of Macallan and accept their gratitude and their cheque and toddle off to bed where your lady-love lies waiting, silently for you. Or Me, actually.

Night-night,