An alien's guide to romance

It's no use, no matter how hard I try, I will never understand this human emotion called 'Love'. You guys don't even seem to understand it yourself so I don't know how you expect me to!

I'm Zilly by the way, or Zillxanda Zen if you want the full title, but my girlfriend just calls me Zilly and that's good enough for me! We're both from this little planet about 100 solar systems away from Earth, called Zargon Zeta II. Not the centre of the universe, I admit, but it sure beats life here on Earth!

Oh Zally, my beautiful green blob of slime! Day after day I pine away for you, stuck here,as I am on this ridiculous exercise without you my darling!

"Okay, okay," You're all yelling by now. "Get to the point will you, I haven't got all day, "Baywatch" is on in a minute!" (Ooh, I must remember to tape that! Ahem!)

But you see that is the point, love I mean. "What, you flew half way across the galaxy to tell us about your love life with some alien chick? Well thanks a lot mate!" Well, for your information, its 4576 light years across the galaxy to be precise, and DON'T call her chick! But anyway, here I am on this miserable planet forced to analyse the human notion of "Love".

Gee, aren't I the lucky one?

So, what is this thing you call "Love" then? On my first day on this measly planet, I heard the word mentioned five times by the same man! The first was to his wife as he left for work, the second to the secretary he seemed especially fond of if you know what I mean. The next one was to himself as he looked in the mirror, then in reference to a chocolate bar (!) and lastly to a heap of red, shiny metal which he seemed to regard as his pride and joy, despite the fact that it wouldn't last five minutes in hyper-space!

It beats me how you people even find each other attractive! You've got two arms-what a ridiculous number; two legs-pointless, what can you possibly do with only two legs? You're all pink or brown or some other absurd colour in-between, and you're covered in HAIR! Eurgh, how disgusting!

I have to say, you humans have the strangest mating rituals I have ever seen, and believe me, I've seen quite a few of them during my travels! Take the first date for example. When you've finally gone though all the rituals of who should ask who, (and I'm not even going to go in to that!), you're faced with the drastically life changing decision of who gets to pay. Say you're at the cinema; if the guy buys the ticket, it means he's madly 'in love' with you. If he lets you buy it for yourself, he's a 'pig' and the woman will likely never speak to him again. And don't even suggest that she should pay for them both!

And then of course, there comes the age-old business of that first kiss. Whether in the back row of the cinema, (which seems to have been specially reserved for such activities), the back seat of the male's rusting heap of metal on four wheels, (ditto), or a quick one on the doorstep before her parents come out and demand your life history, career prospects and inside leg measurements, your first kiss will always be rather a let down. Especially if, (as the vast majority of humans seem to have been cursed with), you only have one mouth.

Sure, at the time, that kiss will feel like the most amazing thing in the world, that someone has shot you with a Proton Ray gun to make time, literally, stand still, and yes, it is likely you will remember it for the rest of your life, but sadly not for the magical experience it was at the time. In years to come, you will look back and wonder 'Did I really want (add name of first spotty boy-friend here)'s tongue to get that well aquatinted with my tonsils? Did I really want him to slobber all over me like that when my dog could have done it just as well, and not bragged about it to his mates afterwards?'

Unfortunately, both for the human race and every other species in the known universe, you guys just don't seem to learn from your mistakes, or as the case seems to be more often, make just the one, irreversible mistake. So you get lumbered with a red, crinkly, screaming bubble of joy, which you are unfortunately under law to care and provide for for 18+ of your earth years. Aren't you lucky?

During that time, your screaming bundle of joy will pass though three distinct phases. First comes the "Waaaaa!" phase. Humans, being the thick-brained creatures that you are, assume that this is simply the child asking for milk/a dummy/a clean nappy/something to bite the head off. Little do you realise that it is the child's very intelligent attempts at alien contact, begging anyone who will listen to take him/her away from this miserable planet before it is too late. Unfortunately, very few of these transmissions are ever picked up, and by the time anyone responds, the child is already in phase two: if it moves, kill it!

This phase is often found in human males around the age of 6-7, although some never grow out of it and a few females have been known to join in as well occasionally. This phase is very likely to lead to parental rows, household breakages and the cat dying of a heart attack after being swung around repeatedly in mid-air before being hurled across the room at super sonic speed. Needless to say, this is a very dangerous time for aliens to make contact with the child on Earth (think what happened at Roswell!)

However, it is phase three, which sends shivers down the spine of any parent-THE TEENAGE YEARS! Da da da dum! During this time, parents are forced to endure up to seven years of mood swings, door slammings and repeated cries of 'I hate you! I hate you! I bet you wish I'd never been born!' (Not that the thought had ever crossed your mind of course!), after you tell them that there is no way he/she is going out of the house dressed like that.

But, in the end it must all seem worth it, for you as the parents are suddenly greeted with the nervous-breackdown-inducer, 'Mum, Dad, you're going to be grandparents!'

And so the cycle begins again, mores the pity I must say. Each generation becoming more stupid than the last and less likely to ever make inter- galactic contact, which is just the way we like it thank you very much! I don't dare to imagine what would happen if your race were ever to become intelligent enough to crawl your way off your stinking planet before you destroyed it completely. It would mean the end of civilsed life in the universe!

So after a (far too) extensive study of human mating rituals and the notion of 'love', I have come to the firm conclusion that you humans have got it completely, utterly and absolutely...wrong.

You know nothing of 'third eye impressions' or the attractiveness of green skin. I bet you've never even heard of 'doing the slime ball thing!' I'm not surprised there's those who'd rather mate with their own gender, as the opposite one has certainly got very little to offer! No wonder the human race is at the bottom of the food chain in the galaxy, you guys can't even procreate right!

Well, it looks like my work here is done. I've done the research, carried out a few practical experiments, collected the results and I'm outta here! I can honestly say that you humans are the worst species at mating in the whole universe, and compared to the Beltugesse Slug, that's certainly saying something! But you know what? I just don't care anymore! I'm leaving your inexperienced planet to fend for itself and I'm off back to Zargon Zeta II to the six welcoming arms of my beloved three-eyed Zally.

See you around Suckers!