A Good Steak or a Bad Shag?

My girlfriends and I are drinking a bottle of top-notch Pinotage, in a little Italian resturant, anticipating amazing pasta.

We’ve heard good things about this place, and the manager, as well as being easy on the eye, is an exceptional cook. The conversation turns to sex and food – as it does when four girls meet up after an honest day’s work. And while the talk falters during the main course, there is still enough of a chewing gap for a question to be asked. “What would you rather have – a tasty meal or bad sex?”

Granted, the timing may be a little off – it’s difficult to focus on anything but the messages between my taste buds and my brain when the lasagne is THAT good. And perhaps it’s not surprising that the answer is unanimous: all four of us would rather eat a dream of a pasta than lie on a bed/couch/kitchen counter pretending to enjoy ourselves while thinking about the awesome pasta we COULD be having…
Strangely – or perhaps predictably – this choice is not as easy for men. A week later, at a mixed-company dinner, I pose the same question to the male members of our party. They pause and think about it. “What do you mean?” asks one. Well, er, it’s self-explanatory, really – would you rather have a good steak or bad shag? How hard can it be?

Hard, apparently. Men are logical, slow-processing creatures. They need all the facts in order to answer a question or solve a problem. They need to know whether the tasty meal would be provided at a restaurant, or whether it would be cooked by their girlfriend (with whom they could have sex, good or bad, afterwards). They need to decide what actually qualifies as a good meal. They have to thrash out the probability of something such as bad sex even existing. And, quite frankly, after you have a good meal, won’t the sex be good anyway, since you’re already half-satisfied?

Opinions are divided. Some of the guys at the table cop out, asking whether they can have both. Greedy. Others concentrate on their (tasty) meal and pretend the conversation has nothing to do with them. One chooses the bad sex (“because who needs to eat anyway?”) and another wants to call a friend, having used up his “ask the audience” lifeline.The next day my best guy friend emails me: “Tasty food. Bad sex is available everywhere – but one has to go looking for good food.”

A testament to our times, perhaps, but it seems that, in some areas at least, SOME men recognise the value of effort and hard work. So next time I have a “potential” over for dinner, I’m spending more time prepping ingredients and less applying eyeliner.

Luckily I can cook.