When a place is called “Dave’s Noodles”, you don’t expect much authenticity along with your hotbox of Nasi Goreng, but we gave it a try and it was not too bad at all. Especially since this was some random eatery in Moonah, of all places.
But on the walk back to his work we both noticed a couple of boys sitting in Subway munching on their footlongs. They were clearly a young gay couple and, judging by the way they were entranced in each other’s eyes, they hadn’t been together long.
We locked eyes with them, they locked eyes with us.
I'm sure I could hear their minds saying, “We’re so much hotter than them.”
When it comes to coupling, biology dictates that man chooses woman based on childbearing potential. Woman chooses man based on ability to provide and protect. That apparently explains the forming of breeding pairs. But what are our cues?
My heterosexual friends in longer-term relationships unanimously say “they just knew” when they met their partners. I had chatted to my man for some months online. We clicked well, but he wasn’t really my type. Then he came to my town on a holiday, so we caught up for a drink.
That’s when things turned totally Neanderthal.
I am an educated guy with three university degrees. But when we met, all my preconception of who I would end up being with were thrown out the window as soon as I could smell his sweat.
Now, my man is not the picture of the man I thought I would be with. He’s a wild man. A chunky man. A hairy man. A man whose pheromones flow freely; hardly the blonde twink with the bubble butt and hairless body I imagined that I wanted.
When I look at what each of us brought to that initial table, we didn’t have a lot to offer each other. He was still bitter at his ex, I was heading to Perth to get chemotherapy. Our paths didn’t match. Our tastes in men, based on our previous choices of male companions, didn’t match either.
Yet, biology had a whole other plan.
I never would have known that by sitting across a crowded dancefloor from him. I had to get within a metre of him to see the sweat, the chest hair, the narrowing of his eyes and to smell the pheromones that still drive me wild to this day.
Those boys in Subway may be younger and prettier than us. But by God... based on biology alone, we are so much hotter than them.
When a place is called “Dave’s Noodles”, you don’t expect much authenticity along with your hotbox of Nasi Goreng, but we gave it a try and it was not too bad at all. Especially since this was some random eatery in Moonah, of all places.
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