Skip to main content

Mama and the Geek

It's a strange thing, the secret passion grown women have for geeks.

Do geeks bring out our maternal sides? Or is it that as we get older we start to realise that the qualities we valued so highly in men during our teens (muscles, stubble, sporting prowess, ability to drink multiple kegs of ale without passing out, own car) aren't that important after all? After all, hard abs + attitude doesn't necessarily = true luv 4 ever, does it? It takes so much more.

The thing about nerdy chaps is that they learn humility at an early age; years of having sandcastles kicked over and their heads flushed down the school bogs by larger, meaner boys tends to have that effect. Humility, when applied to relationships, goes a long, long way.

Geeks also have a lot to prove, having repeatedly lost the popularity contest at school and suffered through years of sexual frustration as a result; this makes them much more likely to succeed professionally as adults. And women, when they start to heed the biological clock, are more likely to choose mates who can bring home the bacon. Geeks also tend to take refuge in humour as a way of deflecting insults brought down on them in the classroom. Women rate laughter highly - take note boys, humour is a great natural aphrodisiac.

A straw poll amongst my mama friends reveal the following as the most popular geeks (is that an oxymoron or a triumph?). Feel free to add your own personal geek romeos by posting a comment...
P.S. Please feel free to enter into a lively debate re the geek credentials of any of the above, but remember that in most cases I am merely passing on the opinion of others...

Comments

Anonymous said…
I suspect GEEKS are just wolves in sheep's clothing. Girls - beware. Talking of geeks - how about Martin Clunes - something about those ears...
Kate B. said…
Anon, for shame... that is def a guilty geek pash you should be keeping secret!

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...