The Altruism of Bryan

   

 I'm not that keen on people. Especially blokes.
It's a transactional thing.
I'm OK with women. The dick-measuring undercurrent in male interactions doesn't come into it with them. 
And in any case, after 39 years as a medical practitioner, having seen more dicks than I ever wanted to, I have no concerns at all about the relative merits of my dick with regard to it's dimensions. 
Or indeed, any other dick-related parameter.


Not only that, even disregarding the intrinsic primeval competitive background theme involved in interactions with men, I prefer the company of women. 
They're smarter and evolutionarily more advanced, without the intrinsic fight-or-flight reflex which afficts males.
Consequently I am happy to spend my days in the company of my beautiful wife.

This provides some interesting reactions in the men in my community. 
It is easier for them to rationalise my egregiously eccentric behaviour as a result of a condition known as being pussy-whipped, or even worse, being a loner. 

The possiblity of my being averse to the mind-numbingly boring company of a group of beer-swilling men doesn't occur to them.

I choose to do my beer-swilling with my wife and my daughters.

This preamble leads to the consideration of the altuism of my friend Bryan, and his view of how lives should be lived. 

It can be summarised as "Poor old Ben, he doesn't have any friends. I'll drop in and cheer him up."
I'm his charity case. 

But I must admit, though, (to misquote Malcolm in Shakespeare's Macbeth) that he does eventually cheer up my day by the leaving it.