COY ABOUT CONQUESTS

We all know that guy
You know the one---the guy who brags about his conquests with the girls. You know---the one who has a new conquest every week yet he has never had a relationship.
You know---that guy who says "why buy a book when you can join a library"

Personally, I think that most of them have joined a library and are home every night reading a book----but they call them studs.

And we all know that girl
You know the one---the girl that all of the guys talk about and they have all been "with". You know---the one who has a great personality an talks to everyone but they never seem to be in a long term relationship.

Personally, I think that they are usually great people and can be friends with both guys and girls and don't need to be in love or in a relationship----but they call them sluts.

How judgemental are we ?
Guys get a medal that most of them don't deserve.
Girls get a label that none of them deserve.

But then you get into a relationship---a relationship that you want to be in with a partner you would really love to spend a long time with---maybe a life time, and then you become very coy about previous conquests.

It's one of those tricky quandaries. If you admit to too many previous partners then you might appear more than a a little promiscuous.
Your reputation as a stud wont impress your prospective partner and of course, that double standard labelling you as a slut, definitely wont impress any one.

But then if the number that you admit to is too small, then you might be perceived as an inexperienced prude or inadequate lover.

Some recently released research--(geez, who does this research--I've never been asked) shows that there is a split between the genders when it comes to answering that embarrassing question.
Of course most men lie---but most of them increase the number.
But only about a third of women lie but the greatest majority of those reduce the number.

The average number of sexual partners, according to this survey was seven for women and thirteen for men.
The one thing that they didn't make clear was were these figures for a lifetime of for the past year.
Now world population figures say that there is 52% females and 48% males, so you have to say that some of these "studs" are yet to pop the wax in their ears and there could be a "slut" or two who has been around the clock a few times.

But who really wants to ask these questions---who cares---who really wants to know.
Doesn't a partners sexual life begin from the day that you met them--?----after all, aren't you the best root ever ?

I've gotta stop reading the papers

HORSE OF ANOTHER COLOUR

There is an old English saying--"That's a horse of another colour"---basically meaning that it is a whole new story---or it is something else completely-----but this is the literal meaning

OK, if you have read here for a while, you would know that I have been tied up with racing horses from one code or another for far too many years.
My first foray into harness racing / trotting involved becoming a client of an 84 year old female trainer.

Now this lady had come to Australia from England with her husband and family, bringing an English thoroughbred stallion to our shores.
She was a brilliant horsewoman who had a great love of horses.
She had been involved with show riding all of her life and working thoroughbred gallopers for so many years----she was from an era where harness horses were not just for racing but were an accepted way of transport.

OK, so I had been with her for a few years and had been well educated by her and her 65 year old stable foreman, in racing harness horses and the respect for and caring for horses----they were people who had a great respect for the animals in their care and I had almost become part of their stable team.

Now here's the story----
I had my own horse transporting float
Now we had three horses racing at one of our country track in a midweek races---
So, Clyde, can you take a day off work and transport one of the horses for us ?---of course, I'm going to do it.
Now I get to the stables ready to go and my lovely old trainer tells me to take the horse that is in the first race---he is not a good traveller and that I should head off as soon as I can to give him time to settle in on the race course---
It was a nice warm day and I had brushed this magnificent looking grey horse out and had him ready to go----but as I loaded him, my old trainer yelled out that I should travel him in a woolen rug---get one out of the trunk in the harness room---a good one, a clean one-----so of course I did----this beautiful red English rug with contrast trimmings.

OK, so they told me that he travelled badly but it was a horror trip to the racecourse---this horse kicked out and moved around the float every mile of the trip.
I got to the course and unloaded the horse----I noticed that the bottom of the float was wet, not only from his urine but from sweat---I took the horse to his tie up stall and took off the red rug----there it was----oh shit.
The dye had run from the red rug and I had a pink horse on my hands.
It was before mobile phones, so I was alone with this pink horse, due to race in about 90 minutes.

I went to the chief racing steward and asked for a veterinary inspection and a stewards inspection on the horse----
All they could do was laugh but there was nothing wrong with him and he was cleared to race.
I was harnessing him up when the chief steward came down to see him----sorry Clyde, I had to come down when they told me he was pink----and walked off laughing.
I couldn't help but think of what my dear old lady trainer was going to say when she saw him but that turned out to be the least of my worries----
The other car and float carrying my trainer, her daughter and the stable foreman had broken down, so I was left to get this pink horse into the parade ring and onto the race track.
His race driver came to take him from me in the parade ring and all he could say was---fuck Clyde, he's pink, he is actually fucking pink----
Great observations, but I gave him his instructions and let him head off to the track---my instructions could have been to hide the big pink bastard in the field but he had not won in 14 starts, so it was all about confidence.
I saw my trainers car arrive as I left the parade ring and went to help them unload the other two horses---they were more worried about how I had got on with the big grey---I said nothing other than he was on the track and ready to go.

Now luckily my trainer had this superstition thing about not watching her horses race, so it was only the stable foreman and I who walked up to the mound to watch the race.
The first thing he said was, fuck, that horse looks pink, now where is Pookie----I've gotta tell you something Jim----and I told him the whole story
Now Threyshun, stable name Pookie, had never won a race and we weren't too confident after his trip and change of colour, but of course he just had to stand out to the crowd and jump to the front.
The course commentator had to make comment on his colour which confused my poor old trainer who was listening in----
I think it was the only time on a racetrack that I was almost hoping for the horse to drop out and finish in the middle of the field and old Pookie had never won a race, but of course he lead from start to finish.

My dear old trainer was extatic until she saw Pookie heading back to the stall---and when the chief steward turned up, she thought we were going to be swabbed for drugs and tried to explain the colour-----but the chief steward laughed and congratulated her on the first pink horse to race and indeed win a race.

She would never again let me leave home with a horse until she had inspected it and its rugs.
Threyshun's owners lived interstate and commented when they got his racing photo that he looked a little pink----my trainer said it must be some tint in the photo.

Never before and never again has a pink horse raced on any track in Australia---maybe I hold a world record that will never be broken.

Oh, Threyshun---he never won another race