Yikes

Now, there's nothing quite like teenagers to make a chap feel old. Particularly when said teenagers are one's kid sister. And particularly when one stumbles across their web page. I would upbraid the girl upon her appalling spelling were I not dimly aware that that would move me irrevocably into the category of being "old". Spelling is something old people do. As for the rest of it, well, I didn't look at much, frankly, I don't want to know. Let me retain some illusions.

Now, onto safer territory....so I was reading that observer woman supplement, purely from a spirit of curiosity you understand. The sensation reminded me of being a fervid, febrile teenage boy and (like my fellow teenage boys - don't lie), frantically reading women's magazines for insights, hints, anything that might give us a head start on the competition when it came to the school disco (as opposed to, you know, actually dancing); which of course is exactly the sort of self-deprecating anecdote which one tells when trying to look charming in an attempt to get women to sleep with you in one's early twenties; which in turn is exactly the sort of cackhanded attempt at painful honesty intended to impress women into bed in one's late twenties. All of which is entirely irrelevant to me on account of being firmly off the market (thank god). But my point is this. Men. Do not read women's magazines or the vortex will have you in its grip. I know whereof I speak.