LEFT BRAIN / RIGHT BRAIN

Dooley Wilson had it right: woman needs man and man must have his mate, that no one can deny... Man wasn't meant to go through life alone. It's in the Bible, isn't it? Adam's rib, ripped out, genetically mapped and altered, and woman was manufactured. Noah's ark - each animal brought in two by two, male and female. The Love Boat, soon will be making another run - get those rabbits apart! Use a crowbar if you have to Hezikiah!

The first caveguy knew it: it's wearing a deerskin cloak and carrying a club and is covered in grime and dust and sweat from the hunt, but it's all soft and bumpy... Yeah, having a spouse is a hassle. You have to keep your cave clean, bathe every once in a while, lose the love handles until she's legally or emotionally or socially bound to you (or you've got him trapped, if you're female or so inclined). Don't spit in her mother's house, behave, and you can't even think of thinking of looking at another woman, bub. But that don't matter, 'cause now you're not alone, and you know it's a good thing.

When you have a compatible significant other, you have something to focus on, other than your career. Your flaws, he or she will bring them out, and if you allow her or him, those flaws can be conquered, and you will be better for it. Your accomplishments will seem more profound when shared with an encouraging mate. Conversations revolve around diverse subjects, differing points of view, mutually beneficial compromises can be found, at least in most relationships

Still, finding that compatible match to yourself is a struggle. There are so many people that have to be weeded out: the really obnoxius ones that you only chased after because of looks, or the assholes hidden inside a cloak of sincerity, or the obsessive ones that will never let you go and end up boiling your pet bunny and repainting your house, inside and out, when you're at work one day. But you find a match, and you click (yipee!), and you go on a few dates that don't suck. Maybe you take a few rolls in the hay to check your new found's stamina and kinkiness envelope. You feel warm and cozy and secure in your relationship. Too late - you're hooked. Love got its claws imbedded in your back. If you try and shake it off, or if it gets sick of you and jumps off on its own, it'll poison you with guilt and depression and bad nasty feelings of worthlessness and how could she ever love a fetid, stinking, perverse in a bad way wretch like you anyway?

But if love stays with you, you don't feel the claws, and the weight becomes a part of you. As most songs go, you become one, and every once in a while you two will become - as Shakespear so eloquently described it - a beast with two backs. Yes, in an enduring relationship, sex can play a part. It keeps your significant other happy, and is considered a free and powerful expression of your love. Granted, it can become a large part of most relationships, but that's not a bad thing. If the relationship is based on trust and mutual respect, sex allows partners to become closer and more intimate. And when it's cold at night, it's always good to have another warm body beside you under the covers to save on home heating costs and such.

Then there are the intangibles in a relationship; the support, mental, emotional, and physical. And if she (or likely: he) can cook, a ready source of good food can be found: I mean, how many of us appreciate it when we work or do sport or whatever and dinner is waiting for us when we get home. Or we cook for our other half when we feel that it would be a nice surprise and she's been having a rough time or he's been driving himself at work or whatever. Or if you're sick of staying home, taking your mate out is a good way to chase off some of the residue of our hum-drum existance for a few hours.

Going through life alone is not the best way for most people. You gotta have that one person close by, even if only to make sure your shadow is not the only one you see at sunset.

Actually, the J. Geils Band sang it best: ...I've been through diamonds, I've been through minks, I've been through it all...Love Stinks! (love stinks!) Yeah yeah!...

It's true, man, at least for this man. All the relationships I've been in have been scary roller-coaster rides from Hell. They start out okay...rattling up that first hill to the top, then WHOOSH! - she starts making demands and down the hills we go. Most things I've been asked for from my ex-girlfriends are reasonable - I can keep my house a little neater, keep the seat down on the crapper, turn the heat up a little. But then it starts getting more and more into the nagging category: Don't spend so much time in front of your computer/drawing board/camera. Why not take me along on a photoshoot; I know what looks good. The wall looks straight to me, so why do you have to shim everything? Are you going to wear that? Again? What are you writing about? When are you going to stop working nights and work some decent hours? I said I'm going to be the one on top!

Then they ask the questions designed to mess you up: "Does this dress make me look fat?" "What's the difference between you having sex with your ex-girlfriends and you having sex with me?" Or they'll vaguely accuse you of something, just to catch you. "I know what you did," they'll say, and you'll respond, "What did I do?", and they'll say, "You know what you did, and if you really loved me, you'll apologize, right now." And they'll never tell you what you did. They are searching for something wrong to use against you - like when a cop pulls you over for speeding, and they pull you out and search your car, looking for an open bottle of Jack Daniels or a baggie of pot to bust you on. So if you stay single, (and don't speed), you won't get caught, right?

I guess it'll break my mama's heart, but the only way I'm gonna get married is probably with a shotgun muzzle bumping up against the back of my head. Ain't nobody gonna catch me! Of course, that sounds like the most infamous of famous last words, but I'm gonna resist as long as possible.

I chase 'em, sure, and I've had my share girlfriends, but once they start throwing that horrifying word at me that all men fear - RELATIONSHIP - I leave a smoke trail. It's not that I don't like women, but it's that they keep trying to catch me. And I know that if they catch me, they will try to change me. And I ain't changing for nobody, baby!

I'm single, and I love being single. All decisions are mine to make. If I screw up, I don't have to explain it to anybody. Hell, I may not be able to coordinate clothing (I'll wear a polkadot shirt with plaid pants and orange sneakers to prove a point) and I may live like an animal, but it's my pigsty and my mismatched closet, and I like it. In singletude, there is no such concept as guilt.

Single means freedom. I don't have to call my old lady to tell her I'm going out with my friends to a sports bar to scream profanities at the Jets. Only when you're single can you hit all the pubs in town until you become sloppy-drunk and can, without shame or remorse, go up to complete strangers, put your arms arond them, and in a gin-stinking howl yell, "I love you, man! I love--BRRRAAALLLLUUUGGGHHHH!!!" Only when you're single can you save on gifts during Valentines Day, the manufactured holiday. Christmas is cheaper too! Jewelry is expensive, and when you don't have to buy that ring or tennis bracelet, there's more money for more manly things like gambling and ammo and Southern Comfort and power tools.

I proudly wear the moniker: "Single Man". If I had a shirt with a big "S" on the front, I'd wear it with pride. If it's the right color(black), I'd wear it to Norm's White Horse, man.

That's where I pick up chicks.