Yesterday I had only the one meeting in Palma (de Mallorca), so after having done my duty by making my distributor aware of my company's latest offerings, I decamped to Portals Nous for a bite to eat. I sat in 30 degrees of heat, admiring the numerous yachts in the marina (bemoaning the central heating was on at home) and desperately hoping I'd spot something monstrous being parbuckled; however, I suspect one has to be in Italy for that delight.
It's the kind of place where one sees portly, rather hairy, simian-like men of a certain age escorting svelte, long legged women half their age. These women are not at all put off by the visually challenged nature of their partners, it being adequately compensated by their large bank accounts and private yachts.
This got me to thinking of the psychology involved.
No-one is fooled by these liaisons, least of all those who partake in them. What they are engaged in is evolutionary barter; the women trust that any issue from the liaison will have the evolutionary benefit of improved social standing and inherited wealth (not to mention a dash of genetically inherited business acumen, if such a genetic trait exists), and the men hoping their gene pool will be vastly improved by the addition of a dash of beauty, although genetics doesn't necessarily work that way. The advantage lies with the women and the men can only hope there isn't a throw-back down the line (Benie Ecclestone was lucky with his kids, but his daughters may give birth to ugly dwarves).
Whether one favours nature or nurture as the dominant factor, the fact remains that any progeny raised within an environment where deals are struck as a matter of course will gain on both counts. Mind you, it could work in reverse, with the progeny inheriting their fathers' looks and their mothers' brains.
Thinking about it, does it matter whether a partner is chosen for their looks, their personality or their wealth? Of the three, the first will fade over time and the third could disappear in the burst of a commodity bubble. The second, however, is more long-lived, unless one gets early-onset dementia or passes through the menopause.
A friend of mine - well more an acquaintance who abuses me a lot - commented on the misty nature of the photo above, attributing it to the poor imaging of the Samsung. I replied that it was an evocative arty shot, conveying relaxation, ease and a languid afternoon in the company of the Med, thus hiding the embarrasing fact that the lens of my mobile phone was liberally coated in the oil from the fried squid I was eating.
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