PERSPECTIVErnWhat Do Women Want?rnby Thomas FlemingrnWas wollen die Frauen? Freud’s questions are always betterrnthan his answers, and even his questions usually betrayrnthe diseased mind which poisoned this century with itsrnsexual obsessions. In a healthier age, the question of whatrnwomen wanted would not have been asked, but as we look outrnacross the wreckage of human social life—the singles’ ads inrnthe newspapers, the sex videos advertised so prominently inrnthe New York Times book section, the sex hardware hawked inrnHarper’s, the strange phenomenon of middle-class women preferringrnshackups to marriage and going out of their way to bearrnbastards, the bone-tired mothers who reluctantly put theirrnchildren in daycare in order to spend eight hours a day in a jobrnthey do not particularly like and come home to cook and cleanrnfor a husband who will not lift a finger to help them—Freud’srnquestion echoes in our ears like the sound of wild dogs barkingrnin a ghost town.rnOur friend Professor Kopff has been after us to bestow anrnannual Was Wollen die Frauen award on the woman with thernleast excusable husband. In the past few years since he firstrnmade the suggestion, we have had our choice of any numberrnof women in the public eye. Hillary Rodham might head arnDemocrat’s list. Even conceding that she is exactly what NewtrnGingrich’s mother said she was, Mrs. Clinton was not bornrnwith her mouth turned down in a dyspeptic scowl. Imaginernwhat it is like to be a bright, ambitious woman trying to turnrnsomething like Bill Clinton into presidential material in thernodd moments she can distract him from chasing gids or strikingrnposes in the mirror. If the dead can be included, thenrnNicole Brown Simpson deserves an honorable mention, and ifrnwe do not insist too much upon the sex of the spouse, so doesrnLisa Marie Presley.rnPerhaps the strangest cases are the women who run off withrnother women. I used to know a high school Spanish teacherrnwho lost his job for showing erotic foreign films to his students.rnThe last time I ran into him he was trying to negotiate a deal tornfilm the life of Sirhan Sirhan. When I began making fun ofrnthe idea, the bartender said, “Leave him alone: his wife just ranrnoff with the Avon lady.” Decades before Thelma and Louise, Irnhad been hearing of professors’ wives who ran off with eachrnother. What wives, what husbands.rnWhy do women marry the men they do? In some cases itrnseems to be the same maternal instinct that impels somernwomen to become nurses. They are so many Honoria Glossopsrneager to take care of that army of Bertie Woosters whornconstitute the male sex. In graduate school I knew a lovely andrnintelligent girl who ended up marrying the ugliest male I havernever known. Looks are not everything, of course, and this guyrnwas sudy, arrogant, lazy, cowardly. For a while the young ladyrnwas being courted by a friend of mine, who, although not arnman I might want for my daughter, was, at least, unambiguouslyrnHomo sapiens sapiens and, I have to admit it, ratherrncharming. My friend knew that the young lady was a potentialrn12/CHRONICLESrnrnrn