This is what happens when you go shooting your mouth off in other people’s houses, you are promptly held to account, forced to stand up in front of everyone, hands clasped behind your back and head bowed in shame, nervously drawing circles on the floor with your big toe as you mumble a vague explanation that’s not only light on details and logic, but ultimately complete rubbish. That’s why I’m here today. Now ordinarily, I don’t mind being asked to explain myself, I put my foot in my mouth so often I’ve come to expect it, but when asked to do it here, well, I hesitated. Restoring sanity to relationships? Me? The poster child for insanity? Really? This cannot possibly end well…
A couple of weeks ago, the men in these here parts were running wild making all manner of ludicrous assertions and generally beating their chests, all ‘I is man!’ like, and all because one Naomi graciously shared the thoughts of ‘her boys’, this in what I assume was an attempt to educate the ignorant masses (that would be the rest of us). Slight detour, so the date update? Am I the only one who’s still waiting to hear what happened, or didn’t? Come on woman, share… Back to her post. ‘Brilliant!’ the men raved, ‘I hate old stockings…’, ‘…clean shaven head is a no-no…’, and on and on and on. Bollocks! That’s right, I said bollocks, as in rubbish, as in bull-poo (I’ve been instructed not to swear). Folks, men and women are different, very different. Don’t be fooled by that rib sharing story, we have nothing in common except our surprisingly unique ability to sleep on our backs. We’re built different, and nothing we ever do and say will ever change this fact. Yes, we’ll spend a lot of time wondering what the other half of the species thinks, and wants, and thanks to our collective obsession, an entire industry thrives on our confusion, and for what? At the end of the day, all we’re left with is a niggling feeling that for everything we claim to know, we really don’t know too much, do we?
Ladies, ask a bunch of men what they want and they will trot out the tried and tested, ‘a lady in the street, a chef in the kitchen, a whore in the bedroom!’ Bollocks! Perhaps if they include a magician in the closet, item sold separately, to help her transform seamlessly, as and when required. Folks, for a woman to be lady, chef and whore, she needs to possess a disturbingly vast skill set that is practically impossible to find in one person, scratch that – should not be found in any one person. I figure, the lady/chef combo is likely, that’s what our mothers taught us to be, it’s drilled into you from the day you can reach the cooker-top in your pink nylon (fluffy) dress. The chef/whore combo is possible, because they’re both all about pleasure, wanton pleasure for that matter. The lady/whore combo, on the other hand, that’s rare, because it requires a bit of a split personality to be a contained demure woman and a raging nymphomaniac, at the same time. Lady, chef and whore? Really? Do you recall ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’? Remember Mrs Smith trying to stab Mr Smith with a very big knife? I rest my case.
Ladies, ask any of these chest-thumping men to show you the specimen of perfection they have hidden in their caves and I guarantee you, not only does she not come close to meeting their ridiculous expectations, they are quite happy to go home to her each night, because they know that for all their tough talking, macho, bull-poo, they’re just glad to have a woman who can put up with their nonsense. That’s all we’re all looking for, isn’t it? Gents, given that you are a less than perfect creature, you may want to cut that (perhaps not so) innocent girl a little slack and leave her be, flaws and all. If you can’t handle, then you have no business being with her, set her free to find the man who’ll take her, just as she is. You know what they say, there’s one born everyday (sucker, gents, not woman, although there’s one of those born every day too…). The unrelenting pressure to have women conform to some mythical ideal is what got us into this mess in the first place, what with women trying to fake everything from boobs to hair, all so we can become the Barbie doll men claim to want. The harsh reality is that no woman will ever be the perfect woman. The good news is, no woman will ever be the perfect woman, so she can’t and shouldn’t expect you to be the perfect man. It’s win/win, no?
The same applies to us women and our obsession with tall, dark and handsome – and rich apparently – the illusion of fairy tale perfection has us so enthralled we constantly refuse to see the beautiful imperfection all around us. A girl will insist on finding a loving and romantic man to cherish and hold her, who’s miraculously not already taken because she’s the only one who can see his brilliance? A wealthy man to spoil her rotten, treating her like a queen and what not, but one who’s not a workaholic, which then begs the question, how did he make all this money if not by working very hard, day and night? A man with no emotional baggage, because he’s spent his adult life in a monastery, just waiting for his little princess to come along? Bollocks! Your man is just as flawed as you are, so get off his back and let him be the man he is. For as long as he’s not engaging in serious foolishness, why are you stressing the poor bastard? If he can deal with the fact that you insist on wearing a headscarf to bed (mine is black silk-ish, and I’m proud of it, so there!), because you know you need to look good at the meeting the following morning, then you can deal with the fact that every once in a while, the idiot will wander off the reservation in search of a cold beer and a hot goat (and goat here means four legged creature commonly roasted over an open flame, not ‘goat’…). Some fights are not worth having, is all I’m saying.
Ladies, if you really want to know a man, just stop talking and listen to what he says, in his words and in his actions. If you’re silent long enough, I assure you, he will speak. Given the chance, your man will tell you everything you need to know, everything that’s on his mind, even, dare I say it, his feelings, but only if you give him the freedom to do so, in his own time and at his own pace. If he doesn’t, or can’t, then perhaps he’s not the man for you, go find another one. There’s one born….… And while we’re on the topic, gents, if you can’t talk to your woman, skulking off in silence doesn’t solve anything, if anything it just makes it worse. Talk to her. Despite that look she gives you when you lie that you only had two beers and in reality you had six (you know the look I mean), she cannot read your mind, so help her out a little.
Instead of wasting time trying to read each others minds, constantly searching for impossible perfection, how about we just get on with it? Folks, go out, find someone you like, genuinely like, for whatever reason. If they like you back, for whatever reason, then give it a go. It may work, it may not work, who knows? Worst case scenario, you’re one person closer to finding your Mr/Ms Right. Progress, right?
By Alex – Guest Writer
The guest writer is a blogger in her own write. Visit her blog at http://kainikii.blogspot.com/