I know it’s been a little bit of a stretch since I’ve updated this space, and that makes me feel slightly guilty for opening with this silliness, but here goes:
Guys, I’m sorry for not being all jealous and weird when you acted like a jerk and tried to make me jealous over some other girl. I’m too old for all that nonsense. Let me say that again and embrace the hell out of it so there’s no mistake: I’m too OLD for that. You heard me sweetheart. Here’s the secret though: I’ve always been too old for it. Also, whatever it is that you find hot about it makes me question your judgment and your need for an ego boost. Why do you need that so badly? Do you think stirring up hurt feelings takes some kind of focus off yourself or something? Look, I don’t really care that much but I do feel a little bad about not being more accommodating in helping you make that other girl crazy. But you may want to consider if you’re having to do that because you don’t trust that her interest in you is strong enough, justifiably or not. So, ya know, just trying to help you out because I do feel a little bad about not being there for you to use to hit at the insecurities of some other woman. Honestly though, that kind of thing makes me feel stupid and boring so I avoid it if I can…Okay, moving forward so I don’t start to feel like I’ve lost several IQ points:
My English friend Matt is lovely. I got an email from him this weekend asking if I had found anyone to bear the costs of a trip to England so I could cover their upcoming election which, according to him, is going to be a big one what with the whole Independent Party stepping up. It’s not a horrible idea, and how marvelous that he suggested it. There’s a great deal going on over there, of course. And Matt tells me that France feels like their Republic is under attack — which is precisely why we should have shown solidarity with them because those things matter — but we have plans to talk at greater length later this week. I miss my friend, even though I’ve written England off for at least the next year, favoring a short trip to Charleston instead because that’s about what my finances allow, short trips once a year. But I haven’t written England off entirely. Not by a long shot. It’s just something I’m going to have to further negotiate. It’s okay. I’m not down about it. Working toward something, even struggling and gasping for air toward it, doesn’t dampen my spirits (well, not irretrievably). There are other things that do, though. And I feel compelled to talk about those for a minute because I let some of them get to me recently and I’m barely forgiving myself.
I’m kinda disappointed in men at the moment. I mean, not to sound like some feminist harpy (God forbid) but what has happened to you guys? Since when did you get so…afraid? That’s the right word. I struggled with that one for a second but damn if it isn’t exactly right. I’m going to tell a little story and try to be diplomatic — I really do try — but it’s just one story in a litany of many lately where I don’t recognize the male of the species and I’m trying to figure out if I’ve just never really known them or if something has indeed changed.
A female friend of mine and I went to a little New Year’s celebration and apparently my friend was something of a threat to a lady in attendance. Never mind that the majority of the group, mostly men, are legitimate friends of my friend, and never mind that the threat was an imagined one that lay mostly in the mind of the lady who was protecting the relationship she felt was threatened by the mere appearance of my friend; this young lady, who I’ve known in the past to be rather nice, was anything but on this evening. And I’ll be damned if those boys said nothing. I defended my friend, which is fine. I don’t have a problem letting someone know they’re being ridiculous, and I’m pretty good at it, too. Whatever I said stopped the squawk so the evening could continue on positively (although we caught shade the rest of the night, we managed to have a great time). But the silence from the boys was goddamn deafening. And that’s just been a pattern lately. Look, I’m not trying to say I expect men to be super human or anything, but for the love of pete, where has the courage gone? The ability to simply speak your mind, address your consequences, handle your business? I mean I felt like one of those boys should have addressed that girl’s rudeness directly and openly (ahem, HER BOYFRIEND), if quietly and without all the crazy drama she was trying to stir up. That girl needed to feel secure, and actually showing a spine that attempts to protect her from going too far in the passion of the moment is just generally chivalrous and shows you care. We ladies like that sort of thing. Or didn’t you know? When you disappear behind a skirt, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, you leave us out in the open to do the work of the man. We can step up, but it requires acting like a man, being aggressive, etc. There are women who lick their chops at such things. I am not one of them. But I’ve had to do it quite a bit lately. And I’ll say this and be done: I don’t ever want to be the lady to a man who needs his woman to speak for him. And it’s not because I’m a traditionalist — well, not totally. It’s because I believe in personal responsibility and the strength of the individual. We should protect our significant others, yes. But often that means protecting them from themselves by holding them accountable for their own bad behavior and expecting more of them, not jumping in front of them and being a shield to their consequences. I don’t know, maybe none of that makes sense. But I’ve been wanting to say it for a while. My father cautions me that a great deal of what I see happening is a man trying to placate a woman. Which made me ask him: “What is it with you guys? Why do you sign up with women like these?” To which he answered: “Well you women, you don’t always reveal who you are or what you think until much later… .” I don’t even know what to say about that (but I’m sure my mom is somewhere smirking) so I’ll just distill it all down to a phrase that sounds really horrible but I mean it and it makes me sad: man up, guys. Please. Related.
Okay, some of these pieces are old because it’s been a while but maybe I have a fresh take? We can dream…
To begin, let’s just remember that things are better and better every day. We have been encouraged for several years now that we are more divided, more hateful, more unlikely to succeed, have less respect, less opportunity, etc. etc. etc. Don’t buy. And don’t ever quit. These things are self-fulfilling.
Going to have to agree with this. Although I’ll stipulate that I’m not sure it’s all about a declaration that the threat isn’t as dire as we originally thought. There’s some placating going on here as well. I’m just not sure to whom.
And I really hope it’s not these freakin’ guys. But perhaps our current administration believes this kind of thing and think they hold some kind of leverage. I do not have that kind of optimism regarding a nation that has never seemed all that rational to me. And on that note, irrational and chaotic and a lot less black and white than anyone is comfortable with. A lot less.
On a related note, I think all the worry and consternation is only appropriate so long as we have Mr. Market Interferer in office. Which, of course, we still do. So, okay fine, worry a little. But ultimately, if left to its own devices, the market will sort itself out and the panic of the Sheiks because of fracking in the US will cause a run and ultimately a vacuum that we should be more than happy to fill.
Right, there’s a lot more heavy stuff I want to get into but my eyes are starting to get very bleary so I’ll leave you with the fun stuff and we’ll tackle all that other stuff later. I wish I didn’t care sometimes. Except this, which I think I want to actually write a heavier piece about. I’m trying to work it out in my head…
It’s hard to give it up. There truly is nothing like performing on stage. But you must give everything else up to do it. And that’s a requirement few have the stomach for.
I’m pleased to not have a hateful atheist (and I distinguish between the hateful and normal) screaming in my ear all the time about happy biological accidents. If I didn’t physically want to vomit at the thought, I might send this along to the one I know. But it’s really not worth it. Pearls before swine and all that.
Yes, yes. There are so many I still need to see from this past year.