Date Like a Peacock

While some have short memories, Ma (okay, make that Babi) can recall a time when females were in hot demand. They went to work, they can bear offspring, still make it to a sale, and what did the men bring to the table? Bachelors were sweating as they anxiously attempted to prove their worth. 

The current state of affairs is unnatural, even at a primal level. When viewing the animal world, it is most often the females who are pursued, wooed with a fierceness that sometimes leads to suicide on the male's part. 

Check me out.

And it is not even as though these females are glamorous. Nature made them plain and camouflage-friendly to ensure their avoidance of predators and hunters, whereas the males can have such garish accoutrements that are akin to a bulls-eye on their back to attest as to their heartiness. 

Female on left. Male on right.

As a bored female inspects her suitors with a critical eye, the males sing and strut, perhaps even dance, as they strive to win the prize. Sometimes, if there are too many suitors, males will fight until there's blood. 

Elephant seals will tear each other to pieces.

After all this effort, maybe the female will be kind enough to put the male out of his misery, graciously selecting him from the lineup.

The market these days has eligible women trying every which way to draw the gaze of the eligible man. We doll ourselves up, even though it may make us vulnerable to unwanted attentions. We acquire gainful employment so as not to be a financial burden, nay, even aspiring to "breadwinner" status. We are capable and competent and college graduates.

And yet the quarry is unmoved. He yawns, waving away the female offerings, no matter how they bat their eyes and flip their hair, not even bothering to look up from his iPhone. Many of today's bachelors are seemingly disinterested in the opposite sex, the masters of cool, whereas everything we know of the natural world proves such detachment to be impossible.
    

"Are there any real men nowadays?" Ma sometimes opines. "I mean a real man."  A real male—I mean, man—would have no qualms smiling roguishly across the room at a selected quarry, sashaying forward with a weak pickup line, willing to jeopardize his ego. Pretty much every animal out there works that way. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Yet today's female usually has such shoddy self-esteem that if a man sought her out, she wouldn't find it flattering. She would seek out a fellow who ignores her rather than introduces himself. 

I thought I would never experience my status as it should be in the animal kingdom, except for one special evening, at a wedding of a family acquaintance.

My male launched into the waltz that is the mating ritual: He goofily played with the children, glancing in my direction: Look, I'm great with kids! (There are monkeys that do that; babysit to impress the ladies). By every bracha, he launched to his feet, donning a variety of reverential expressions as each rabbi shuffled up to the chuppah. In the hallway he drew himself up to his tallest, throwing his shoulders back, attempting to display his healthy prowess, as well as the flattering cut of his suit. 

And I remained the unruffled peahen, supposedly unimpressed via my aloof demeanor of his prancing overtures, casting from time to time a discerning glance. 

My necessary early departure from the festivities halted his energetic presentation. Despite my acquaintance with both sides of the nuptials, he has not sought me out; the chase is over. And perhaps if I should ever come across him again, he would be peering at his smartphone in blatant indifference while I fiendishly cavort in a lame effort to draw his attention.