I'm hoping when I wake up tomorrow it will be healed. This sort of optimism made me laugh at my own maleness--optimism being inherently male, dontcha know. And then I got to thinking about some of the men I have known, and how one goes about categorizing them.
Guyfriend once remarked on there being two types of single women in our age group in his city.
"There's yoga ladies and pet ladies, Rutte. That's it. Sure, there are women our age apart from those, but they're all married or divorced and with child and struggling to stay afloat or career gals, so they're not wanting to date. Not exactly looking for yuks, as they say. That leaves pet ladies and yoga ladies."
At the time, I'd smugly pointed out that I did not yoga, I box and kickbox. Guyfriend stared pointedly at my two dogs, one which was fixated on its frisbee, the other joyfully trying to plant his front paws deep within Guyfriend's groin. On the deck, the cat yowled rustily.
"You're so a pets lady. No question about it."
Point taken. In my defense, none of the animals are allowed to sleep in my bed any longer. This is truly the mark of a pets lady, a bed filled with fur and muddy paw imprints.
Anyway, this conversation about the ladies begs the question: what about the two categories of men? Guyfriend sidled away from this conversation, perhaps not wanting to be studied and classified. (Too bad.)
Let me just say that I believe there are two categories of people in general: those who categorize people in one of two categories, and those who do not. Buh-whum-BUM! But seriously, folks...there are two categories of males. Caveat, caveat: I've added several sub-categories to the first one.
It is my hope you will recognize some of the classification information as pertinent to your species of lover/brother/friend. Whether you ultimately choose to shoot, gut and tie the creature to the hood of your car is up to you.
Category 1: The Manchilds
Subcategory a: The Obsessive Collector/Hobbyist
Ah, perpetual youth! Mischevious imp, gleam in your eye as you survey toys and candy and material promises, oh my. Understandable when you're four, off-putting in 30 years time.
This type has either been over-indulged as a child, or cruelly denied all his callow heart ever desired. The result is the same, however: an obsession as an adult with amassing things. Tools, outdoor gear, ATVs, traditional bows, dirtbikes, mountain bikes, boards for surf and snow and skate. If you're attached to one of this ilk, you likely have one or all of these items in your home.
I do, as the X was this. Fifteen months after official break-up, my house still contains welders and large tool boxes and climbing gear and wheels for all manner of bikes and a skidoo...and...let's see, there's even a two foot half-built model airplane made of balsa wood with a little gasoline engine. I kid you not.
It's all still here because he lives in a city where he cannot afford to store it, but he's working on it. And I'm a goddamn patient woman. Anyway, he's this type. Entitled to pursue as many hobbies they can (or cannot) afford money- or time-wise, addicted to instant gratification. (This type, of course, is not native to the male of the species, as evidenced by these head-scratching SITC women of yore who shop compulsively for shoes/tchotchkes/whatever. But I date men, so reserve comment for them in this post.)
Subcategory b: BroMan
This closely-related sub can be easily identified by their referring to friends as "bros" and near constant fist-bumping. And beer orthodoxy (here it's Lucky lager or else).
They're usually a minor Collector or Dedicated Hobbyist, but live on the verge of poverty as all those wicked trips to Vegas and baggies of weed really add up. Chances are they feel most comfortable running in a tight cluster of other Manchilds, watching hockey together and opining on their dream boats (like, really, these guys tend to love boat engines).
Women are generally desired but unsettling. Females their own age are at best uninterested in long conversations which invariably start with, "Hey dude, d'ya remember when we...", so they gravitate to much younger women who have yet to form strong opinions or interests of their own. These gals are deemed easy-going. Sigh. Often these Manchilds are quite attractive, but are fatally paralyzed by a lack of empathy and imagination.
On a side note, the only close female relationship they typically have is with their mother. Yes, they're live-out mommaboys. To paraphrase Waylon Jennings: Mommas, don't let your babies grow up to be mommaboys. It's weird. My first boyfriend was a mommaboy, poor guy. I mean, she was unironic English as well, how rough is that?
Subcategory c: The Naughty Boy
Okay, the Collectors and BroMan may be expensive or perplexing, but they are at least fun if you pick up some of their lingo and roll with it. Not so the over-ripe Naughty Boy, most repellent of creatures.
A boyish manner may be tolerable or even a little cute when a man (and yourself) is floating through the 20s. Once the behaviour creeps into the 30s, however, it should be stamped out without mercy. Have you ever squirmed in the presence of a whiny man in his 40s or even 50s with his face set in a secretly delighted I've-been-a-bad-little-boy moue? Gross.
The only thing grosser is when mummywife is also present, and they bicker back and forth on some banal topic in a nightmarishly placid way that lends credence to the Freudian theory of the Oedipus complex, and she ends the conversation by sighing and smiling and rolling her eyes patiently boys-will-be-boys and he smirks and minces yes-we-shall and I puke a little in the back of my throat. For. God's. Sake. People. And this is what passes for "light conversation" with them. My stars. Personally, I'd be mortified to act this way in public, and I once danced topless on top of a semi-truck at a bush party. In my defense, I was 18 and drunk, but you people, you're perpetually, agelessly fucked.
Subcategory d: The Lost Boy
This sub is trixie, as he can be devilishly charming, sophisticated, intelligent, sexy, a stout friend and gifted conversationalist. (In a word: Guyfriend.) Be vigilant, as they are the most dangerous Manchilds of all because they have so much to recommend them, and initially appear so very interested in the women they choose. Beware.
Allergic to responsibility, the Lost Boy equates it to conformity and complacency. Don't try to tie these bohemians down with your staid concepts of stability, maturity and commitment. They're living the dream, man. I admire their adherence to this dream, but look askance upon their fickle and misguided emotional manoeuvres.
I object most to the self-deception. They avoid love by speaking of it most highly, and are practising Romantics in the worst sense of the word. Such lofty ideals allow them to run through women at a fast pace: Oh, she's great! She could be the One...oh, she slightly irritated me, or looked a little flustered this afternoon, or misprounced the word "hegemony"--there bursts my bubble. Next!
Discarding women and justifying it on the pretext of feelings-just-not-there seems cold, until you realize just how thick a protective shell they've created for themselves. They're terrified of mature, imperfect, occasionally inconstant love. It can be hard. There's always the chance it will dissipate or shift into neutral for a while, or that the things you prized about yourself or herself are eventually called into question. Romance is so much simpler. Dizzying passion, while fleeting, can be very certain. So that's their fall-back position: sexual adventure, emotional cowardice.
In old-fashioned times, these men were called rakes; later playboys; in not so distant times, players/playahs. However, as they age they deteriorate into slimy, deluded old sluts clinging to an outdated notion of self while still searching for (youthful, angelic yet intellectual) female perfection. Dreaming the dream, man. Bitterness, regret, bad teeth and chronic back pain result from not taking proper care of themselves in their youth, so they're best avoided.
I think that exhausts my knowledge of the Manchilds. On a simpler note:
Category 2: Men
Men are not macho, tyrannical or overly stern. They don't pout to get what they want. They're not control freaks, or abusers, and they don't have all the answers or know how to do everything. And they're not pussies, either.
What they are (and I've had very limited exposure, mind you) are patient, kind, interested in people and fallible. And they don't pretend to not know how to clean a kitchen or bathroom.
They don't automatically withdraw into icy silence, get furious or curl into fetal position when challenged, preferring to ask questions instead to determine if they have just cause to be irked, or if they misinterpreted or misheard a comment.
If you're at a party together and he's getting tired, he looks to see if you're having a good time; if yes, he decides that maybe you should both stay a little while longer without him shooting pained, desperate looks or visibly sulking in the corner.
I know, it sounds crazy. But I've met one, honest. I think. Keep you posted.
Pet lady out--
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