So men are simple creatures, and
Each one is just the same?
I say, look at your choices, for
Those might just be to blame
You say it doesn’t matter, for
Each man is like the last;
I’d say the pattern’s obvious,
It’s right there, in your past
For while attraction’s what it is,
Behavior, once it’s known,
Is countenanced or not, as one’s
True character is shown
I’m trying to tell you, friend,
It doesn’t have to be this way:
But I am just a man, and you
Won’t hear a word
I say
This reminds me of a coversation I once heard on the radio show Car Talk. A woman called in saying she’d had the same trouble with all of her cars. One of the hosts asks, laughing not judging, what the common denominator between the cars was. She picked up right away, leading them into discussion about what action of hers might be leading to that same outcome no matter the car.
By the time this (the actual) conversation was over, it was my fault men had mistreated her. And to tell the truth, I did feel a little guilty about conspiring with every man on the planet to plague her, even though I didn’t remember doing that.