I met up with some girlfriends recently for dinner, and of course, after a few glasses of fine wine, the conversation headed straight towards that allusive thing we call love.  The pursuit of love, the lack of love, unrequited love, regrets regarding love, and of course, the hope one feels at times that love may possibly still be in store at some point in time in ones future.

After much debate, there was a sudden moment of clarity - somewhere, somehow, every girl, at some point in her life, wants to be pursued by someone they could possibly love.  This desire is universal, and is the subject of many a novel, many a movie, many a wish and many a prayer.

I think we all understand by now that men are hunters, and women are gatherers.  We know about the man cave thing, and whether we like it or not, we need to accept that male and female DNA is as different as North and South, day and night, vodka and gin.  But deep down, women want to be chased - they want to feel like they are being fought for, that they are more important to someone than other women in the running, they want to be chased and they want to run and run, until they allow themselves to be caught, and then feel that they are special, and someones favourite favourite.

As the wine flowed and the ice diminished, it became clear that when women allow themselves to be caught too early, the pursuit is done, the race is run, and the game is simply over.  In the background, if you listen carefully, you can actually hear the man whispering "done... next!" 

Of course, women being women, this is likely to be when they become far too interested in the man of their moment, insecurity kicks in (an instant turn-off for anyone with XY chromosomes), the woman starts planning where she can hang her curtains, this is known commonly as "the furniture look", and the man starts taking up other activities that keep him away and out of the cat's clutches.

We did not manage to really come to any conclusions at first on this subject, so another bottle was required to increase our ability to analyse this properly.

After the end of bottle two, we got it.

As women, at a point before being caught, you need to run like your life depends on it.  When at first you feel the urge to cave in and be caught, you run even harder, and you keep running until you are quite sure that the undersides of your Nike trainers are almost worn through.  When you have run nearly half way across the emotional country, and you are sure you have enough money for all the toll fees and plenty spare to put diesel in your love tank... you turn around, allow yourself to be caught, and revel in the knowledge that somehow, the XX beat the XY.

And so, the moral:  first stop tomorrow... the sports store, for my new pair of Nike trainers.  Let the running, and the chasing, begin.