Why do Men think they are Perfect?

Why do Men think they are Perfect? ©

By

Michael Casey

What do men do when they are surrounded by beautiful women?

I am in that position myself, a model like wife and 2 very beautiful bilingual daughters.

Having a Shanghai wife who could have a been a model only she was not tall enough, even though she was very very pretty.

Her parents did hold her by her legs and shoulders and tried pulling her, stretching her, but it was no use. 5feet 1inch was all she stretched to. The agency did say she could be a model for children’s clothes, but my wife, or should I say future wife said no. 

I would have said yes myself, though my waist is almost as big as her height, well almost, or bigger than if I listen to her. I do have a  Chinese name, Panzi, it means FAT FAT BOY.

I may be fat though in my brain I AM thin. So I will dance around the living room to MTV, dressed as a Sumo, I mean just because I am 17.5 stones doesn’t mean I cannot dance, I do dance well, and even if our neighbours have called in a structural engineer that does prove anything.

And if I do leave a trail of toast crumbs all over the carpet from the kitchen and to the living room and even as far as this computer desk, what does it prove? It proves I need a wife to love me. Her nagging is just a form of courtship, her Chinese wagging finger just makes me laugh, so I just wiggle my bum to her copying Beyonce moves, I really am such a good dancer.

I hog the computer seeing how many people are looking at michaelgcasey, how many are looking at my blogs today. Then another burst of loving, I am kicked off the computer so my all adoring wife can read the recipes on Chinese and Japanese web sites. I retreat to the living room and watch 503 and 501 and 509 and even 506, which are the news channels. Then I’m kicked off the tv so she can watch a Date with LuLu, it’s a daily chat show from Taiwan, not a wee little Scots singer. So I return to the computer to write my blog for the day, behind me our bilingual girls play on the piano, I get them to play a bit quieter as I need to focus while I write.

However as I’m writing right now I’m listening to Shakespeare’s Sister, perhaps I should be reading their brother.

Words have such power, was it that which brought Birmingham to Shanghai. Was it my good looks, was it my immense waist, was it my smile, I do have such a nice smile, was it my laughter,

Or were the Angels on angel dust when they heard my prayer for a wife?