Science verifies Cadogan sex law

Posted on September 10, 2007
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            One of Cadogan’s laws is that there are only two things going on in the universe. One of them is sex. The other is foreplay.

            It is gratifying to be able to report that science has confirmed the validity of this observation.

            An article about a book by two evolutionary psychologists, Satoshi Kanazawa of the London School of Economics, and the late Alan S. Miller, dominates a page of the Saturday, Sept. 1, edition of “The Globe and Mail.”

            Called “Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters,” the book says that everything we do is guided by a simple biological imperative: The will to survive as a species.

            To be fair, I think science has known all about this for a long time. I think Satoshi and Miller are just the latest to add evidence and be published.

            As a junior space cadet (advertising sales rep) 45 years ago, I learned that owner benefits and good qualities are the chief ingredients of a sale.

            The owner benefit is what answers the question, “What’s in it for me?”

            The good qualities are the features of the product that produce the benefit.

            For example, when a customer is considering the purchase of a power drill, he doesn’t really want a drill. He wants holes.

            The veteran sales manager who taught me at Southam said that the ultimate owner benefit in every sale is a happier sex life.

            Mr. Restaurateur, if you buy these glasses I’m selling, you will have a happier sex life.

            The break-resistant materials mean they will last longer, your customers will like this style, and the shape means you can fit more of them into one load in the dishwasher and the smooth shape means they come out cleaner.

            That means your costs will be lower which means you will have more profit, which means you will have more money, which means you will have better clothes, a better car, more time to exercise, and more and better vacations, which means you, will have a better sex life.

            Getting back to science, other research has shown that, even in a bar, it is the women who choose the men, not the men who pick up the women.

            A woman is more likely to get pregnant having sex with a lover than a husband. The more different genes her children have, the more likely hers will survive.

            Because a man can plant a seed several times per week but a woman can only produce a baby once a year, the motivations of their genes are different. The man tends to want to plant seeds in many locations. The woman tends to want someone who will stick around to help her raise her children.

            That doesn’t mean the woman is less likely to fool around. She tends to want to carry the seed of the brave, powerful, bold, athletic, stallion while having a steady, reliable, safe guy to help her raise the kids when the stallion has moved on.

            Stallions tend to do that. Henry Kissinger said, quite accurately, that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Now we know why Kennedy, Clinton, and Trudeau wanted to be president or prime minister. Ladies, don’t kid yourself that Trudeau got all the sex he wanted without being prime minister. The organism is never satisfied that there is enough.

            As the comedian, Ron White of the “Blue Collar Tour,” with Jeff Foxworthy said, “When you’ve seen one woman nekid, . . . . . . . , you want to see all of ‘em nekid.”

            There are dozens of proofs, not all of them pretty, but all of them mathematically support the shameless, relentless, determined, desperate, drive of the organism to survive.

            Your genes care nary a whit about you or even your survival. They know you’re doomed to a very short life anyway. They’ll make you risk your life for sex with no concern at all for your survival. The male Black Widow spider and Praying Mantis are often eaten by their partners during sex.

            Yep, it is all very clinical, mathematical and scientific.

            Some folks find that depressing.

            Some folks find it disgusting. Some women self-righteously deprecate all men for noticing their breasts, or worse yet another woman’s breasts. Men find it very irritating that women say they want a sensitive, loyal, helpful man although they tend to bed the whistling gypsy.

            Men think they are the hunters, thrilling to the chase, and tend to accept the idea that they are more inclined to favour sex for the sake of sex.

            They know that women like more time spent on the wine and candles, compliments and caresses. What most of them don’t realize is that all that romantic stuff doesn’t necessarily involve the same man every night.

            A bull dyke cowgirl in Tom Robbin’s “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” emphasized every significant statement she made with a crack of her whip.

            One of her most memorable lines was “The only true aphrodisiac in the world is . . . CRACK! . . .  strange stuff!”

            Except for the fact that she was fictitious, she and Kissinger might have targetted some of the same conquests.

            So, what do we do? Do we simply accept that we’re helpless slaves to our genes and resign ourselves to betraying and betrayal?

            I don’t think so.

            We are sentient beings, capable of understanding the difference between the interests of our chromosomes and ourselves.

            Our genes don’t care about us or anyone else but we do. Our genes struggle to be immortal by reproducing themselves.

            Our only immortality as people will be in how we are remembered. While that will be very brief and the ripples we spread very faint, our physical lives are even shorter.

            We must do what we can to make our own sex lives happier and our happy lives as long as possible.

            To that end, I recommend we take the romance game that is a small part of our genes’ survival technique and play it for all it is worth.

            Understanding that it is difficult to remain monogamous, we have to work at it. The first part of that is to find your soul mate. That is a matter for an entire book, not this essay. Suffice to say that is especially difficult to do the first time. The love chemicals that bathe our brains in the presence of a suitable creature for mating don’t care if we share life interests. They are especially treacherous to teenagers. The love of your life may not be your first and you may wind up married with children before you realize that.

            That, in turn,  means that, when you do find the love of your life, you well may wind up raising someone else’s children and that your happiness well may depend on it. The genes don’t like that but we sentient creatures can.

            To be clear, though, those of you who get it right the first time, have won one of the major lotteries of life. It’s right up there with health.

            Part of being a sentient being is realizing it is a lot easier to be happy when everyone is happy. We don’t want to hurt anyone and we will live more happily, and quite possibly, longer if we play nice which includes being faithful.

            Now for the fun part – romance. Play the game. Cards, music, notes, flowers, poetry, dinners, regular honeymoons of the one-evening to however-many-weeks-possible variety. Whatever works for the two of you.

            An odd little gift won pleasant points for me. Whenever we go to a beach, and we often do, Michelle gathers shells and stones. She always winds up juggling her harvest. Just at that point, on one beach vacation, I handed her an onion bag I’d put aside months earlier. It is the perfect beach comber’s swag carrier. At the end of the hunt, she can swish it in the ocean to clean her treasure. The bag created exactly the reaction I had imagined and anticipated all winter.

            A kiss on a sunny beach is especially nice.

            It’s never difficult to come up with an idea for a gift for a man. Purr in his ear and rub up against his leg. That should do it. Or, as one advisory circulating on the web put it, “Show up naked. Bring beer.”

           If you don’t want to go quite that far, showing up wearing a coat and nothing else will get his attention. Remind me to tell you the story sometime of the guy who showed up late for dinner when his paramour had wrapped herself in polyethylene.

            The romance game is a great game. It’s lots of fun. It’s good for your health. You can play at any age. You can play anywhere. Played properly, there are only winners.

            There are great prizes.                                        DAC

           

           

           

                                     

           

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