Capetonification

They sat in a bar.
it was a bar attached to a popular restaurant in Green Point, named after some fish eggs or something.
The food was good, the alcohol pricey, and ironically it had an assortment of lady clientele unrivaled in a part of the city known as a gay Mecca.

There were three of them sitting at the table. Two had been friends from primary school days, the third was a new addition, a work colleague who had been invited along for the first time for a drink.

The double-jack-on-rocks was the drink of choice amongst the three, and they were already five rounds in. Their conversation had moved from the senseless banter of the latest rugby results, asshole employers, a weird rash on Craig's foot, and the not-so-winter-like weather.

"Pussy is not sacred."
Craig and Ryan turned to the speaker. His name was Anthony, a semi-well-off young man, who grew from a not-so-well-off kid from Parow. He was a funny, sarcastic, bastard of a narcissist. Sometimes he was tough on people, but mostly he was loved and respected.
He continued to speak: "despite what your priest, your mother, your rabbi, your principle, your father, your sister, your brother, Your BFF or your guidance councilor want you to believe."
Craig nodded. "Slightly off topic, but true none-the-less."
Ryan responded: "And yet we go along everyday, every year, every generation continually fooling ourselves into believing that it is sacred."
"Now you're getting it." Whispered Anthony.
They sat in silence for a few moments, each man cast into the memories of a time when they were fucking, fucked off, fucked over or fucked up because of a lady.
Craig stood, holding his double-Jack-on the rocks aloft, in a toast:
"I am Man.
I want shelter.
I want food.
I want pussy."

"Out of that list, there's only one item that continues to be a problem for the modern day man." Anthony pointed out.
"Pussy." They chorused in unison.
Anthony continued: "We dont really want to know her. We don't really care about her problems. We don't really like her parents. All we want is the pussy. Ask any whore out there. They are the great sages of the human race. they learned the truth a long time ago. why do you think its the oldest profession out there?
Ryan shook his head. "But paying cashish for pussy - for too long - will infringe on the first two items of that aforementioned list, so it is not sustainable and will probably lead to starvation and death."
"So we change the currency." Craig offered. "We pay in blood, and sweat, and tears, and frustration and long bitter nights of suicidal dreams."
"It's a real pickle." said Anthony, his tone grave.
Ryan seemed to be incensed by this. "If pussy is all man wants, why Fuck with him and bring a 'relationship' into the equation? Why tie him down? rend his soul one argument a time? shave his pride away?"
"Says the guy who just got engaged." chirped Craig.
Ryan ignored the comment. "I say: pay a price, not a life.
I say: get in, get out, pay up, get lost.
everyone is happy. everyone is free."
"Hypocrite."
"Fuck off."
They all laughed.
Anthony took up the conversation again. "That's what I'm saying, man. Its not like gold, or diamonds. pussy is not rare. it is not hard to find. Have you heard that old saying: there are plenty of fish in the sea?
Well it's the truest bit of truth you'll ever get. But at the same time it's bullshit. They're there, but they're not putting out. There are guys going bat-shit crazy because of a lack of pussy. Their cocks are literally starving, shriveling up because of disuse. Just ask Craig."
All eyes turned to Craig. He gave his two friends the finger. "Suck my dong."
"Well we know nobody else is." Ryan retorted.
Laughter again.
When it subsided, Craig tried to save some face. "But what about the ladies? There are women who snap at least three vibrators a week in the sheer lust for real cock. And I don't care what they say. When it comes to fucking, nothing beats the real thing."
Anthony nodded. "There is hope though. Some of them are trying to reach out and break the old ways.
They're spread out all over jdate, or adultfriendfinder, or whatever.com."
Ryan shook is head. "There's a big problem though. The anonymity of a person on the internet is too great. There are so many freaks on those sites pretending to be girls, or women, or whatever that any guy that has made use of these sites has at least one experience where his date turned out to have a bigger cock than him."
Craig was quick on the come-back. "Is Jasmine's cock bigger than yours?"
Ryan smiled sarcastically, bearing his teeth."Har Har Har."
"So the internet is out of the question." Anthony proposed. "So Let's evolve. Or, in lieu of the animal kingdom's promiscuity, lets regress. Throw caution to the wind. Toss out the old restraints. Burn the churches. Shred the bible. Fuck the rules. Spread a bit of bodily fluid and happiness. No one says it doesn't have to be safe."
Craig nodded. "Ladies: get gorged on Cock. But use a condom." .
Ryan added: "Gentleman: Become a glutton for pussy. But insist on a rubber."
Anthony looked proudly upon his friends. "Maybe we could save the human race from ultimate destruction."
Craig shook his head, pure sadness evident on his face. "But it aint that way is it? We're dreaming.
The ladies would rather keep it to themselves, safe in the knowledge that they are pleasing everybody but the guy who really needs it."
Ryan sipped his whiskey, his eyes taking on a far-off look. "It's crazy and it breeds psychos, and shut-ins, or worse yet, celibacy."
Craig's shoulders visibly sagged. "And despite all these rantings or out-of-the-box thinking, we do exactly what society and decency dictates from us: We sacrifice ideals, make compromises, jump through hoops, play the game. We give it up for the clam."
Anthony looked around the table, a grin forming on his face. "Cause that's what your priest, your mother, your rabbi, your principle, your father, your sister, your brother, you BFF or your guidance councilor told you to do."