Women become fertile just before they ovulate each month, and during that period their inclinations shift. Compared to the friendly, baby-faced features they like the rest of the month, they prefer more masculine faces and become partial to the cocky arrogance, deep voices, and scents of men with more symmetrical bodies.
Encyclopedia of Human Relationships, Harry T. Reis, Susan Sprecher
I’d known Rod for several weeks and frankly, I was put off by the guy at first. It was a combination of his cocky arrogance–he tried to order for me at Joe & Nemo’s Hot Dogs–and that deep voice of his, like he was the Wizard of Oz or Darth Vader or Orson Welles hocking Paul Masson wine. So pompous!
But then I began to ovulate and suddenly, he appeared to me in a totally different light. I was no longer into the puppy dog-Alan Aldas whose legs I’d been humping in fern bars. I wanted a real man, one whose pheromones sent me the message that he was . . . perfectly symmetrical.
I mean beyond the basics; two arms, two legs, two testicles. I wanted a man who understood that, if you sleep on your side and you don’t rotate back and forth every night, you can get a deviated septum! When that happens, one of your nostrils will be smaller than the other. By a strange coincidence, the other will be bigger. I absolutely hate it when a man isn’t symmetrical!
When I was dating Evan–sweet guy, don’t get me wrong–he’d try to compensate when I was ovulating by slathering himself with Crème du Symmetrique, a French product that promises to make both sides of your body the same. From left to right, I mean, not front to back. If it worked that way a guy would look like Janus, the Roman god who looked backwards and forwards. Also not down in your you-know-where area–who wants two of those gross things sticking out?
No, I’m not dating any more asymmetrical guys, I’ve had it. First there’s the embarrassing looks you get when you go out with a guy who has one leg that’s shorter than the other. It’s like the reverse of Paul Newman and Piper Laurie in The Hustler. I mean, I’ve got a big heart and all that, but I think I deserve something better.
No, I want a man with that irresistible smell of symmetry, one who knows double-entry bookkeeping, or who’s ambidextrous, or knows not to mix stripes and plaids. A man who’s a straight shooter, and doesn’t get all tongue-tied with the on-the-one-hand-this, on-the-other-hand that equivocating and shilly-shallying you get from guys who double-cross you and don’t give a girl an even chance.
One who can make love to you from both sides of the bed, dammit, in case I decide I’d rather be closer to the window one night, and closer to the bathroom the next. I want to be able to swing both ways!
He should probably be a Libra, so he’s well-balanced.
The uneven guys I meet–they don’t pass the smell test.