Before I go any further and bore/confuse you let me explain something for this blog, if you look to the left, you will something akin to Types of Tales. That simply put, categorizes from now on, any stories my brain and fingers conspire to bring forth. How does it work? Quite easy
- Random: These are quite random thoughts my brain brings out that I do remember to write
- Tales: These are stories that may or may not be true, depending on how you the reader decide to finish it up (in your head of course)
- Tall tales: Most definitely bollocks, just things I think of as a single man to make me happy, e.g. Halle Berry is the woman next door
- Yarns: Space for sale, for anybody and everybody
Now that that has been put outside, I can comfortably sit down and let loose.
Ok, where was I? Yes, the sandwich effect. Now the question is what on earth am I talking about and how on earth did I come about such a theory? I have no idea, its just the way my mind works. As a man, I do some pretty stupid things at some really quiet moments (I absolutely mess up even when there is no opportunity to do so) and I know quite a number of ladies would wonder, what on earth is he thinking? Now before I start explaining or confusing as the case may be, take a look at the picture below…
As a guy, I have a picture of a woman in my head (lets say Halle), I know what she looks like, I have an idea of what she talks like, I have an idea about her attitude and the various things that make up his woman as a whole. That is my Sandwich (no offense ladies, just flow with me). Now we all know that the ingredients largely make up sandwich, but the Chef, oh, the Chef brings it all together. However, we also know that guys in general make the best cooks, but guys also generally don’t know how to cook (oh yes, I put two contradicting statements in one sentence, forgive me). Now the funny thing is this, the average guy is not capable of having his mental sandwich (funny but true), so rather than go to market to search for the ingredients to make his sandwich (which he can’t because he is a bad Chef) or going to a shop to buy his desired sandwich (which he can’t because he can’t afford it). He picks you, yes you. You are either the lettuce, the tomato, the egg, the sliced bread, or the MEAT. Oh yeah, the lettuce makes him feel good about himself, the tomato looks so fresh, the egg is a lot of fun, the sliced bread helps him out with business and things and the MEAT (its in capitals so its the big one), the meat is so hot, it’s unbelievable. Sometimes you might be sour, a bit loud, grumpy, run his stomach or quite frankly, make him sick. He doesn’t mind too much and if he begins to mind, he moves on to some other fresher piece and as long as he is with you, he manages to make you a part of that sandwich or the sandwich itself…
That dear readers, is the Sandwich Effect/Theory or whatever name I might think of in the future. I hope no one is offended by this, I hope no breakups will be caused by this, this is entirely a random tale.
Single Nigerian Man
Disclaimer: Please, this is a random Tale. Thank you