Some time ago I got it into my head to propose to a friend. The proposal was that we take a journey.
Going around something doesn't mean you understand it, but you might find yourself hopelessly fixated on objects (and bringing up the subject of periods makes people think you're a clot), and the topic of pyramids is streng verboten, but there they are and what are we going to do about them? One with more experience (but nothing can replace a father-son concern) didn't think it was such a good idea.
People say it's what's inside that counts, but I object to such nonsense. I didn't start the debate on what was to be found inside; applying double entendre to triangles is self-defeating (but I'll do it if necessary) especially on the Sabbath, and ignorance is bliss when one pores over triangles without realizing that that's all you're doing, but our ocular experience of the world, to any sensible person, is just that; and, finally, I really don't know what I'm inside of (besides a very long sentence with periods I haven't counted) and, notwithstanding what has been stated by a parenthesis (nor forgetting that I have said finally), I feel I aught to restate on the outside (of brackets) that I am going for a personal record, because I like to work on sentences which can be summarized as nothing other than a sentence which contains all the letters of the alphabet, but to take two cars on a journey would be to bring oneself to the necessity of contemplating a pair of legs all the way (with the final leg to Ixhopo). I'm quite capable of taking a journey without thinking about legs (at least I used to be) but it would be irresponsible to drive to Cairo without thinking about them, and my stomach. I'm pretty good at ignoring the hunger pangs and, though the idea occurred to me ten months ago, have only now thought of ablutions.
Which is to say I changed my mind. In other words I'm making a particular exception to my general response to a saying (which was certainly a girl thing), "let's not and we'll say we did." Call me simple, but I only see one response to that.
I certainly can never have believed that one must show a girl something big in order to please her. Besides a diamond, perhaps.
People do get funny ideas, like that of our limbs being in proportion. My recollection isn't too good on the matter and it's rather obscene to discuss growing pains, but seeing as even school teachers have accepted changes to English which make the International-English bible irrelevant we'll have to start somewhere. Shoes, they say, can constrain one's feet from growing. People with disabilities (like most boys) can find their limbs giving them agonies to the degree that, while not sick, they find themselves irresistably drawn to lying on their bed and doing not much else.
The general advice, as I understand it, is for the boy to talk to a girl (and not a doctor); if the conversation is a favourable one, the offending limb might no longer feel like it is about to burst the skin. But the girl is likely to get her tongue wagging.
We say all this because we think that there might just be a woman or two who doesn't want their son lying in bed looking at his phone and doing not much else (there is still much debate over the effect of electromagnetic radiation and some people still can't help showing their ugly white teeth when the topic is introduced), especially if they themselves had taken things too far when they were helping a boy with a cramp; for they will certainly teach their sons excessive caution, give him a phone, tell him to walk off a cramp (and massage it) but avoid certain establishments, and generally make him think his mother is a weirdo.
I found it necessary, in my life, to take some rather dicey risks; but I had been touched by a weirdo (of weirdos), and my parents never seem to be happy with how insane they've driven me on any given Sunday (which Mom says isn't the Sabbath).
We revelled in discussing initiation ceremonies; the fact is, each boy has to come to their own terms with the word man: which is whether they'll assert their age whenever someone calls them a boy, or rather to find a way to make sure it doesn't matter what people call them; getting a massage might be necessary if they find themselves in a medical experiment which threatens their ability to retain their self confidence.
Retaining the term in perpetuity in case someone thinks I'm trying to revise away the good feeling that it gives me to see it, I simply state my opinion, which I'll defend to the death, that I don't think that cramps or the limbs that get them are something that medical science aught to eradicate.