The Poolboy Gets. It. On.

In the animal kingdom there are variety of ways in which the intention to "get it on" is expressed.

The male peacock will plume his feathers to ostensibly impress a female who's caught his eye.



But like males of any species his long term goal isn't just dinner and a movie.



When in the mood, the male peacock will surround his prey and strut his stuff John Travolta style until the deed is done.



Yet another bit of proof that we humans aren't that far removed from the wild kingdom - with the dance of love between humans being as complex and complicated as what occurs betweens lions, and tigers, and bears.

Oh my.

In children, Bobby will often be seen chasing the object of his affection home from school, pulling on pig tails, and generally being a nuisance just to get attention.

Teens like to impress one another by showing prowess in a sport, or other type of behaviour like dancing, or skateboarding.

And middle aged men like to stoke up the flames of passion by turning on the electric fire place they purchased on sale at the Superstore for $99.99 two Christmases ago.

Okay, maybe that's not all middle aged men... but I'm certain you know who I'm talking about.

My man, the one who can't resist a bargain, spotted this little number as it sat on display at the grocery store and thought it would be the perfect thing with which to create a ski chalet like ambience in the bedroom.



I was all over it at first because it does add a certain, je ne sais quoi, to an other wise empty corner of our room, and I was touched that the Poolboy would want to pick up something so romantic considering it's a stretch to get him to pay full price on cheese most days.

The thing about an electric fireplace, though, and in particular the ones that come marked down at the Superstore for $99.99, is that they produce a fair amount of sound.

Along with the faux crackling effect that comes as part of the package, the motor, once it gets going, whirrs.

And throws off quite a bit of heat.

Which is apparently optimal according to the Poolboy who has sore joints by the end of the week.

This doesn't stop him, however, from going on the prowl.

(And when I say prowl, I mean putting on a dab of "Lamborghini for Men" and bringing the good liquor out)

Come Saturday night, he'll change into one of his many pairs of designer boxer shorts, pour the first of two incredibly weak rum and cokes, watch a movie, have a little popcorn, and by 9:00 pm be ready for bed.

With his final words being: "Don't be up too late."

Translation: The dance of the male peacock has begun.

Shortly thereafter, and this is like clockwork people, I'll hear the fireplace go on.



I'll let you use your imaginations for the rest.

Now dish it if you dare!

Got any of your own *ahem* "boxer short rituals."

If so, my Enquiring mind wants to know!

And then have a fabulous Monday!