Jesse McCartney was a modern pioneer for trailblazing the study of Body Language. Most linguists stutter at the thought of exploring this is a branch of anthropology. Especially when it comes to reading a woman’s body language, male scholars would rather interpret the repetition of sound than observe eyes roll around. Social humiliation is a universal vernacular.
Nothing will humble a man into submission quicker than failing to interpret a presumptive female’s countenance. Now, I don’t speak Spanish, Japanese, or French, but the crinkles around her eyes gives me too much suspense. Even at my age, I can deduce a fake ID quicker than I could a fake smile. This is why I’m a pacifist when it comes to fighting for love.
I wish I could be more like Jesse, soliciting a handsome maiden and whispering sweet nothings right into her ear… but I cat-stall instead of cat-call. Perhaps the old adage is true that “he who hesitates, masturbates”. Overwhelmed by emotion, I run for the lotion.
I wish Body were my first Language, rather than impotent English. I’ve tried a thousand mnemonics to understand corporeal phonics, but the eyes are a tongue I just can’t hear. However, if we evolved from cavemen communicating in grunts to highbrow professors reverse engineering Shakespear, then I still have hope for the future. Perhaps Artificial Intelligence can accelerate our learning patterns as we continually expose ourselves to this incoherent body language.
In the meantime, I’ll be stashing up my acorns for an anthropomorphic sex robot on Craig’s List. At least her body language can be programmed.
