Today's story comes to you courtesy of a dance – yes, I went to once despite the fact that I'm not in high school – that I attended a few weeks ago. A friend of my girlfriend's was there, a gentleman in his late forties. Let me say first and foremost that I have no animosity towards him whatsoever. As far as I am concerned, this guy is living the dream. Schmucks like me envy him.
At some point in the evening – there were many free pitchers of beer consumed – the conversation turned to vacations, and the gentleman said that for his birthday (a relatively consequential one) that he would like to take a cruise around the world. My girlfriend chimed in immediately that she would like to go along with him. The gentleman asked me how I would feel about that.
“That's fine with me,” I said.
“That's not right,” he said.
I will leave my response to that for later in this piece. Instead, let me list the ways that I am not a man.
I don't drive. I don't hunt or fish. I am terrible with my hands: Most of the things in our apartment that require assembly have been put together by my girlfriend. (The things that were not had to be put together multiple times because I cannot follow directions/a diagram.) I am more than likely not a good lover. I have mowed a lawn only once in my life. (Sometimes if you do a job bad enough, you don't get asked to do it again.) Though I think Die Hard is a great series of movies, I don't seek out violent films for the sake of seeing a bunch of shit blow up. Along those lines, I also refuse to watch horror flicks. I have two cats that I love like the daughters I hope I never have. (Kidding, I'm not against having kids. Please back away slowly from the monitor, honey.) Lastly, I am completely comfortable on the bottom rung of the corporate ladder.
And here's the list of reasons I am a man:
I enjoy having a several cold ones every now and then day. I like watching sports. I play video games. I buy flowers and jewelry for my girlfriend. I would defend her honor if the offender wasn't making an obvious joke. I've been in a fight, and would protect her if she were in danger. (But if a 300 pound, possible-knife-wielding, possible-gun-toting, maybe-meth-addict biker is merely talking to you in a bar, I'm not getting involved in that.) I like to rock the fuck out every now and then. I consider myself somewhat of a grillmaster. I am perfectly capable of living in my own filth for weeks at a time. I do enjoy having orgasms caused by the opposite sex.
Now to get back to the exchange above. I pondered for some time what he he meant by that. Was he saying by essentially letting my girlfriend of four plus years go on a cruise with a man that wasn't me a license to fuck someone else or an opening for someone to take her away from me? I think that is what was implicit in his statement. I should have been the man there and said “no way” as if I were her protector. Of course, this would also mean that I didn't trust her, much less him.
I chose not to mind because I took emotion (being her protector) out of the equation and went with logic. He is providing a service -- the around the world cruise -- that I could never provide for her. It is something that she would love to do, thus I let her do it. The truth of the matter is this: as much as he would hate to hear this, he is harmless. She (and her best friend, which will make an appearance later) doesn't like him because he's some loaded, sexy thang they want to get deep-dicked by. They, and I, like him because he's not a backwards-hat-wearing, frat-rock loving, douchey neanderthal that normally populates our age group. Also, I'm guessing she's not attracted to him in any way. I realize there is massive sugar daddy potential there but if she wanted a sugar daddy, she wouldn't be with me to begin with. Sorry dude, you have no game with her.
I suppose my dad would probably agree with the gentleman here, as he once got on my case about being friends with a girl when I was 15. “But back in my day, boys weren't friends with girls. They either dated or they didn't.” I italicized “friends” because it is the most important word in that statement. This is the 21st century, and men and women can be friends without a harmful amount of sexual tension coming between them. Sure, I wanted to nail that girl when I was 15, but I didn't. I was fine being friends.
* * * *
I am not Facebook friends with my girlfriend's best friend. I get a kick out of this, and the friend gives me a hard time about this whenever we see each other. She gave me a hard time at the dance.
“Did you ask her to be your friend?” he asked.
“No.” I replied.
“Well, you should. Sometimes the girl wants you to be the agressor.”
Thanks a lot.
The reason I'm not her friend on Facebook? Spite.
I don't ever recall her asking me to be friends, and as far as I'm concerned its fucking Facebook and it doesn't really matter. There is no bad blood between us. We get along just fine and joke around about stuff.
In the grand scheme of things, this does not matter. And it amuses me to no end, so I will continue not to be her friend on Facebook.
* * * *
Those two things bring me to my point, which I will put in bold type.
I will not sell out for pussy.
Let's be honest, as far as “being a man” is concerned, that's what is going on here. I realize that compromise is part of being in a relationship – hell, it's the biggest thing – but I'm not compromising my values and beliefs so that I might have consistent sex and not die alone.
Don't get me wrong: I do things for my girlfriend. I am concerned about her feelings. I think about her all the time. I snuggle her and tell her I love her before I go to bed. We are right for each other. But I will be goddamned if I'm going to act upon emotion alone or what is considered “right” because that's what a man does.
To answer my initial question, I may not be a manly man. However, I do like some man-type activities. Believe it or not I do feel and care passionately about some things. (Whether or not I can be bothered to show it on a consistent basis is another story.) I love my girlfriend with all of my heart. So if that's not good enough for the people that decide such things, I guess I'll take my theoretical vagina and go home. I hear they've got pornography on the internet there, anyways.
* * * *
You might be wondering why I've been so forward (for lack of a better word) in this post. It is because I've been dating my girlfriend for four years like I've said above. She knows what comes with the Kevin package by now. Like – I hope – most modern women she knows that women can't change men. I am who I am. I am not scared to reveal this part of me.
* * * *
Just for shits and giggles:
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