Peacock Courtship

America’s dating scene needs a serious overhaul. Most of us have or know people who have experienced the rigors of the casual date. And even if we haven’t, we’ve seen enough Lindsay Lohan movies to know what a mess it is. It’s borderline disgusting; there’s the first awkward meeting, the first date, the second date and then the painful, emotionally scarring breakup.

There are, of course, variations on this theme – sometimes the relationship makes it to a third date and sometimes the breakup scars more than just the psyche – but most dating relationships follow this general trend.

Quite frankly, I am tired of it. If you’ve read the accounts of my terrible love life on these pages then you can understand my abject aversion to the status quo. I want better and, after deep reflection and 8.3 fluid ounces of sugar-free Red Bull, I think I know better.

As you undoubtedly know, the wild world of nature is full of object lessons that, if we pay attention and interpret correctly, can help us defeat life’s dragons. Maybe you’ve read the Character Sketches book (a gold-mine of meaningful analogies) or just took the time to ponder the orderliness of the beaver.

Whatever your experience with nature, you no doubt believe that many life lessons are true for all life forms.

Even if you don’t, keep reading, because here is my plan for pain-free courtship:

I am going to wait, not until I am ready to date or move a serious friendship toward something more serious, but wait until I am ready for marriage. It will take patience, but the Grisly Bear has to be patient through a long winter. If the Grisly can do it, I can do it.

Then, when I am physically, emotionally, financially and psychologically ready to go before the alter, I will strut around with large feathery peacock plumes (not unlike the aristocrats of Moliere), stretching them out as wide as possible and making high pitched throaty noises.

“Guffaaaaaaaw! Chuffaaaaaaaaw! Eeeeeee! Eeeeeee!”

I will move, thus encumbered and screeching, through town and in any public place where an eligible female might notice. Like the male peacock, I will not back down, even if another feathered male or a police officer makes a competitive gesture. If my first day of crooning doesn’t work, I will continue the mating ritual with more feathers and louder guffawing.

“Guffaaaaaaaaaaaw! Chuffaaaaaaaaaaaaw! Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee!”

Using only these mating cries, and the strong appearance of a feathered male body, I will attract a mate. When she comes, wearing feathers of her own to signify her attraction and acceptance of my offer, we will meet and screech together for a few minutes to ensure that we have really found “The One.”

Then we will run off together to go see a preacher.

The more I ponder this plan the more I am taken with its brilliance. How many women can say no to an eligible bachelor screeching in the middle of the square? I’d be the Knight in Shining Peacock Feathers, the Prince Peacock, the Perfect Peacock. Instinct and love would replace the professional dumping and emotionally scarring dating experience of today.

Laugh now my fellow men, but we’ll see who is clucking when I have a gorgeous young woman on my arm.