Speaking from an evolutionary standpoint, it makes no sense. Humans are smarter, stronger, more adaptable. We live longer, write novels and poetry, wage war, build tools, sing, dance, pontificate.
We can have sex in multiple positions, and have prehensile thumbs to boot, allowing us to do cool things like build kites and card houses. Fix cars.
But in the end, dogs can lick their own balls, and we can’t. It hardly seems fair.
Why is it that a lowly pack animal, one who frequently eats his own shit, howls at the night, and greets other members of his species by smelling their butts, can lick his own balls?
Okay, you ladies. Go ahead, act all offended if you like, but don’t deny for a minute your envy of this most basic of skills, namely to reach your crotch with your tongue (the Nordic Warrior Queen was so jealous, she had all our dogs neutered).
I’ve tried it, believe me. I hope I’m not alone in this. But aside from a sore neck, I have nothing to show for it. I could do twenty years of yoga and never even come close to that most elusive of goals.
But what of love and marriage, you say? Pair-bonding – sure, that’s nice. The species can’t continue without it. Handholding is swell. And at the end of the line, right before the lights go out, I’m sure it will be comforting to have your loved one by your side, to see you on your way.
She may not put up with me that long.
But in the end, our stiff spines – our inflexibility – is why we put up with all that shit from the opposite sex. Because we just…can’t…reach.
What’s up with that? It’s a mystery to me.