Women are much like cats (Men, on the other hand … more doggy like than cat like, but that’s a post for another day).
So much so, I suspect we were made in their image. Or they were made in ours.
Except, we do the feeding, so I suspect they were here first.
Exhibit 1. Cats often hunt and torment their prey, even when they’re not hungry. They will put the smack down on their victims for hours while the victim becomes more and more distressed, and bits get squished. Until it’s almost dead, at which point it’s either food, or boring.
Women on the other hand tend to start the process of turning their victims into distressed piles of squish with seemingly casual questions.
- Do I look fat in this?
- Is <insert other-womans-name> prettier than me?
- Do you think your mother likes me?
- Did you buy milk today?
- Why doesn’t your mother like me?
- Do you think I’m <funny/clever/pretty/interesting>?
… and a long list* of potentially dangerous questions.
Once an answer has been given**, the questioning becomes more and more uncomfortable for the hapless victim, as he*** squirms and tries to evade answering any further questions. If he’s lucky, he won’t end up almost dead.
* we reserve the right to change any and all questions on the list at any point in time.
** there are no good answers.
*** women usually feign deafness when a trigger question is asked.