This sounds harsh, so I’ll start out by saying that men who have nothing to offer know they have nothing to offer. It’s not so much that they don’t have any good qualities—they might—it’s that they either under-value those qualities or are not prepared to let them show. These guys are looking to score.
Ostensibly, there’s nothing wrong with looking to score, but men with nothing to offer pretend that they want something more, or rather, that they are willing to give something more. They have several MOs to convey this idea.
1. Obsequiousness. They act like they have little or nothing to offer, as though their intended mark is out of their league. And she probably is. But they don’t really believe that. Instead, they attempt flattery. They point out all the good qualities of a woman—well, the ones that they care to notice, including, and limited to, physical beauty. They start with “safe” things like eyes.
“Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?” Yes, of course they have.
If they meet with success there, they move to more risky things: lips, hips, anything somewhat sexual without having to be direct. They couple this with self-abasement—again, limited to the physical—in the hope that they will be complimented in their turn.
2. Bravado. Just as men who flatter don’t really think little of themselves, those who use bravado don’t necessarily think well of themselves, sometimes with good reason. Where this gets confusing is when it’s the obsequious guy who now displays bravado.[1]
Bravado involves bragging about previous conquests, either in numbers or, unfortunately, in detail. They will even compare numbers with their intended mark, as though a woman will somehow find a man attractive because he’s slept with more women than she has men.
Another take on the bravado is to talk about the many women who have pursued them, all of whom, of course, they turned down, because they only have eyes for you.
3. Pretending to be the pursued one. This variation on bravado consists of a man acting like the woman is coming onto him. If she says “hello” she’s hitting on him, and if she asks for assistance with something, she’s making excuses to have him around. He acts as though she’s coming onto him at any time they meet, and she is therefore fortunate that he has finally decided to grant her favor.
4. Coyness. A man who is coy acts like women make him nervous, again, because she is probably out of his league. (And again, she probably is.) He “thinks” that a woman like that would never be interested in a man like him, that she would never see anything in him. However, his constant speech, his repeated seeking out of his intended mark, and his apparent unawareness of his actual deficiencies belies his coyness.
All of this is smoke and mirrors, however. Of course, men with nothing to offer are not offering anything, although they say they are. And what they are pretending to offer is inadequate at best. The thing is, if the women they offer nothing to really are out of their league, they see through the tricks and reject the Trojan horse.
And these guys don’t bother with women they actually have a chance of landing. It’s all about the sport, even if his team always loses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1] One of the qualities men who have nothing to offer underestimate in themselves is their own survival instinct. They are able to assess a situation rapidly, try one method of attack, and when that doesn’t work, immediately switch to another.
Men I Have Known
Musings on the different kinds of men I have come across in my life. Some I have dated; most I have not.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Younger Men
Younger men are wonderfully idealistic. They are always fun to date for a very short while. They are excruciatingly honest and have a puppy dog quality that is cute until they piddle on the floor.
What I don’t understand is the younger man’s fascination for older women. We have television shows dedicated to “cougars”—attractive older women who like to teach younger men the ropes. It seems our society can’t make up its mind. American society worships youth, with girls barely 18 years old being held up as the model of all things beautiful. Plastic surgery has never been more popular, and wrinkle creams fill the shelves in grocery stores and pharmacies. It goes without saying that all of these are marketed toward women.
At the same time, we are obsessed with erotic older women, whether real housewives or cougars, who “pluck” innocent young men, sometimes young enough to be a felony. Of course, many of these same women have had work done and certainly dress like they're still in their 20s, but there’s no mistaking them for a 20-something, and society says both their appearance and behavior are OK. In fact, if a 20-something acted and dressed that way, she would be labeled a slut and looked down on by the same society that lauds the cougar.
With me, this younger man fascination with older women has come out not so much in the sense of a cougar, as I’m not really old enough to be one. It’s more the perception of an age difference. Sometimes the gap is only a year or two. I classify these men as “younger” because they do more than because of any real age difference.
Certain things characterize men who perceive themselves to be younger. The first is that they love the idea of being “cougared.” It doesn’t matter that I’m not much older or that I’m not sexually more experienced than they—and I’m not. I’m not really one for casual sex, and I have some very specific reasons for this. This means that not only am I not more experienced than the young “innocent” pursuing me, but also that the likelihood of my sleeping with him is slim to none. That doesn’t matter, though. All that matters is the idea of it. Younger men place themselves delightfully outside of reality.
Take, for example, the case of one young man in particular. He was about 3 years younger, and we met at a party. He was cute, although lacking a bit intellectually. I told him up front that I was not interested in having sex with him and why. In response, he told me the timeline of our dating future, down to the length of time he figured it would take for me to sleep with him, which was about 4 dates hence. Interesting reply. It turns out he was wrong, but that didn’t bother him.
Sex is a common theme with younger men. I find this interesting, because they know I won't sleep with them, but they keep right on trying. They could simply find another woman who would sleep with them more readily, but they seem to feel that persistence is the best mode of action. I once had a cat that ran headlong into closed doors to try to get out of a room. He did this repeatedly. It's kind of like that. I know one who asked for it every time he saw me, multiple times. It didn't matter where we were. It also didn’t matter that we weren’t actually dating, that he had a girlfriend or that I had a boyfriend. He’s been at it for over 2 years. The door's still closed, kiddo.
As I said, though, they’re honest. They don’t pretend anything; there’s no trickery. They state their intentions and are not fazed by the word “no.” In addition, I’ve never had a younger man try to force me to do anything. They understand “no,” but like a puppy, they simply try a different way to get what they want without getting in trouble[1].
I find their directness refreshing, and they can be endearingly sweet. In all, as long as they’re taken on their terms—temporary ones—they are worthwhile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1] I once had a younger man suggest that I ought to sleep with him because I should be flattered that someone younger than I was interested in me. He was 22 to my 26 at the time. Needless to say, I was not particularly flattered, but I did feel it my duty as the older and wiser party to point out that perhaps that wasn’t the best way for him to make his case.
What I don’t understand is the younger man’s fascination for older women. We have television shows dedicated to “cougars”—attractive older women who like to teach younger men the ropes. It seems our society can’t make up its mind. American society worships youth, with girls barely 18 years old being held up as the model of all things beautiful. Plastic surgery has never been more popular, and wrinkle creams fill the shelves in grocery stores and pharmacies. It goes without saying that all of these are marketed toward women.
At the same time, we are obsessed with erotic older women, whether real housewives or cougars, who “pluck” innocent young men, sometimes young enough to be a felony. Of course, many of these same women have had work done and certainly dress like they're still in their 20s, but there’s no mistaking them for a 20-something, and society says both their appearance and behavior are OK. In fact, if a 20-something acted and dressed that way, she would be labeled a slut and looked down on by the same society that lauds the cougar.
With me, this younger man fascination with older women has come out not so much in the sense of a cougar, as I’m not really old enough to be one. It’s more the perception of an age difference. Sometimes the gap is only a year or two. I classify these men as “younger” because they do more than because of any real age difference.
Certain things characterize men who perceive themselves to be younger. The first is that they love the idea of being “cougared.” It doesn’t matter that I’m not much older or that I’m not sexually more experienced than they—and I’m not. I’m not really one for casual sex, and I have some very specific reasons for this. This means that not only am I not more experienced than the young “innocent” pursuing me, but also that the likelihood of my sleeping with him is slim to none. That doesn’t matter, though. All that matters is the idea of it. Younger men place themselves delightfully outside of reality.
Take, for example, the case of one young man in particular. He was about 3 years younger, and we met at a party. He was cute, although lacking a bit intellectually. I told him up front that I was not interested in having sex with him and why. In response, he told me the timeline of our dating future, down to the length of time he figured it would take for me to sleep with him, which was about 4 dates hence. Interesting reply. It turns out he was wrong, but that didn’t bother him.
Sex is a common theme with younger men. I find this interesting, because they know I won't sleep with them, but they keep right on trying. They could simply find another woman who would sleep with them more readily, but they seem to feel that persistence is the best mode of action. I once had a cat that ran headlong into closed doors to try to get out of a room. He did this repeatedly. It's kind of like that. I know one who asked for it every time he saw me, multiple times. It didn't matter where we were. It also didn’t matter that we weren’t actually dating, that he had a girlfriend or that I had a boyfriend. He’s been at it for over 2 years. The door's still closed, kiddo.
As I said, though, they’re honest. They don’t pretend anything; there’s no trickery. They state their intentions and are not fazed by the word “no.” In addition, I’ve never had a younger man try to force me to do anything. They understand “no,” but like a puppy, they simply try a different way to get what they want without getting in trouble[1].
I find their directness refreshing, and they can be endearingly sweet. In all, as long as they’re taken on their terms—temporary ones—they are worthwhile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1] I once had a younger man suggest that I ought to sleep with him because I should be flattered that someone younger than I was interested in me. He was 22 to my 26 at the time. Needless to say, I was not particularly flattered, but I did feel it my duty as the older and wiser party to point out that perhaps that wasn’t the best way for him to make his case.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Evangelists
I have known several men who feel it is their mission in life to evangelize me. This has ranged from Mormons, who are told evangelism is their mission toward everyone and can be excused, to "normal" everyday Christians with a tic. It is always Christians, I might add. No one of Jewish or Muslim or any other faith has tried to convert me[1]. No atheists have either.
The first evangelist was a Nondenominational Christian (which has somehow become a denomination in itself) boyfriend, and he attempted to accomplish his great conversion by giving me a Bible for St. Valentine's Day. It should be noted that before this point he professed to be fine with my (lack of) religion and wonderfully open-minded, and I believed him. More fool I.
He had highlighted passages that he considered appropriate and wrote a note in the beginning as to why this is the perfect gift for such a holiday. It was NOT the perfect gift. His note said something about a gift of love, written by Love Himself. Sweet, except that he didn’t really love me (as proved by his cheating on me a few months later), and that he had no knowledge of the significance of the day beyond what Hallmark told him[2]. The passages he chose were cliché at best, mostly from 1 Corinthians, and the Bible itself was bound in black, faux leather and was similar to one that might be found in the Barnes and Noble “Affordable Classics” section. There were no academic footnotes, and he highlighted nothing in the Song of Songs. How do you talk about the Bible, love, and St. Valentine’s Day without reading the Song of Songs? “Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave” (Song of Songs 8:6). It doesn’t get any better than that. His was an unoriginal and melodramatic gesture. I was not moved, which is possibly a good thing for all the other evangelists out there.
The next evangelist on my list (although not the next I encountered) was Catholic. Catholics have a special place in their hearts for me. I seem to have a homing device I don't know about, that all of them can sense. Either that, or I have some sort of a heathen scent that I put out that is somehow irresistible[3]. I was baptized Catholic as a baby, but my parents left the Church shortly after I was born, and I was raised with principles not tied to any religion. Catholics seem to view this as a challenge—as though I’m “unfinished” and just need a little varnish or something.
This next man wanted to be a priest, sometimes. Lucky me. His attempts at evangelism were as numerous as they were unsuccessful, but they can basically be summed up in the following. He found himself attracted to me for whatever reason, but bemoaned my lack of faith. How could he possibly give up the priesthood for a heathen? He therefore decided that I am a Jezebel[4] that had been sent specifically to tempt him. He actually once said to me, "Get thee behind me," with no trace of irony. I am still not Catholic, and as far as I know, he is never became a priest.
The last notable evangelist in my life—although he, too, was not the last—was also Nondenominational, and also professed to be open minded. In fairness, in many respects he is open minded, even, to a certain extent, when it comes to God. (He’s a bit older than previous evangelists, so perhaps open-mindedness, like wisdom, comes with age.) He was good; he never pushed. He did ask me early in our friendship if I believe in God, but that was it. Admittedly, the way he phrased it—“You do believe in God, right?”—should have sent up a red flag.
What really did it for me, though, was visiting his church. I’m generally a big fan of visiting new houses of worship to see what they’re all about. I prefer to do so alone, though, or with fellow heathens, so there’s no pressure. (I majored in theology in college too, so I consider myself a sort of religious anthropologist.) But, he asked nicely, so I agreed. It was….something. I may have just picked a bad day to go, but there was a lot of fire and brimstone talk, a lot of damnation of non-believers. I felt like at any moment I might burst into flames right there in front of the whole congregation. To be honest, if my friend hadn’t been seated next to me, I probably would have walked out, a first for me.
He was cool, though. We had lunch after, and talked about what happened. I have the great misfortune of not being able to keep my thoughts from appearing on my face, so he already had an idea of how I felt anyway. He was good about it and said that it’s usually more friendly, but I could tell that this was to be a great parting of ways. We’re still friends, but not as close, and it’s been a long road. But really, I couldn’t wish for more than his friendship and the occasional prayer to save my soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1]There is an exception to this statement. (There is always an exception.) When I visit different places of worship for regular services (i.e. not a wedding, baptism, funeral, etc.), after the services emissaries are often sent to see if I’ll join. I find this excusable for a couple of reasons, though. 1. It’s an understandable mistake. Why else would I attend a service if not to see if I’d like to join that religion or house of worship? 2. They always send women.
[2] Far be it from me to presume that you don’t know the history of the day, but just in case, here’s one version of the story. (There are several.) St. Valentine was martyred for secretly marrying couples in the Christian Church back when there was only one type of Christianity and it was illegal to be Christian. The choice of Feb. 14 as the day to celebrate is possibly the day Valentine died (in about 270). It is also, however, the sacred day of Juno, Queen of the Roman gods and goddess of married couples. Coincidence?
[3]At this point, it is probably prudent for me to add that as far as Catholics go, women as well as men take issue with me, although without the sexual bent and with less fervor to convert.
[4] Interestingly, although Jezebel is now associated with seduction for dire purposes, a la Delilah, there is no mention of sex in her efforts to convert her husband Ahab. This is true of many women in the Bible, but that would take up another whole blog to address.
The first evangelist was a Nondenominational Christian (which has somehow become a denomination in itself) boyfriend, and he attempted to accomplish his great conversion by giving me a Bible for St. Valentine's Day. It should be noted that before this point he professed to be fine with my (lack of) religion and wonderfully open-minded, and I believed him. More fool I.
He had highlighted passages that he considered appropriate and wrote a note in the beginning as to why this is the perfect gift for such a holiday. It was NOT the perfect gift. His note said something about a gift of love, written by Love Himself. Sweet, except that he didn’t really love me (as proved by his cheating on me a few months later), and that he had no knowledge of the significance of the day beyond what Hallmark told him[2]. The passages he chose were cliché at best, mostly from 1 Corinthians, and the Bible itself was bound in black, faux leather and was similar to one that might be found in the Barnes and Noble “Affordable Classics” section. There were no academic footnotes, and he highlighted nothing in the Song of Songs. How do you talk about the Bible, love, and St. Valentine’s Day without reading the Song of Songs? “Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave” (Song of Songs 8:6). It doesn’t get any better than that. His was an unoriginal and melodramatic gesture. I was not moved, which is possibly a good thing for all the other evangelists out there.
The next evangelist on my list (although not the next I encountered) was Catholic. Catholics have a special place in their hearts for me. I seem to have a homing device I don't know about, that all of them can sense. Either that, or I have some sort of a heathen scent that I put out that is somehow irresistible[3]. I was baptized Catholic as a baby, but my parents left the Church shortly after I was born, and I was raised with principles not tied to any religion. Catholics seem to view this as a challenge—as though I’m “unfinished” and just need a little varnish or something.
This next man wanted to be a priest, sometimes. Lucky me. His attempts at evangelism were as numerous as they were unsuccessful, but they can basically be summed up in the following. He found himself attracted to me for whatever reason, but bemoaned my lack of faith. How could he possibly give up the priesthood for a heathen? He therefore decided that I am a Jezebel[4] that had been sent specifically to tempt him. He actually once said to me, "Get thee behind me," with no trace of irony. I am still not Catholic, and as far as I know, he is never became a priest.
The last notable evangelist in my life—although he, too, was not the last—was also Nondenominational, and also professed to be open minded. In fairness, in many respects he is open minded, even, to a certain extent, when it comes to God. (He’s a bit older than previous evangelists, so perhaps open-mindedness, like wisdom, comes with age.) He was good; he never pushed. He did ask me early in our friendship if I believe in God, but that was it. Admittedly, the way he phrased it—“You do believe in God, right?”—should have sent up a red flag.
What really did it for me, though, was visiting his church. I’m generally a big fan of visiting new houses of worship to see what they’re all about. I prefer to do so alone, though, or with fellow heathens, so there’s no pressure. (I majored in theology in college too, so I consider myself a sort of religious anthropologist.) But, he asked nicely, so I agreed. It was….something. I may have just picked a bad day to go, but there was a lot of fire and brimstone talk, a lot of damnation of non-believers. I felt like at any moment I might burst into flames right there in front of the whole congregation. To be honest, if my friend hadn’t been seated next to me, I probably would have walked out, a first for me.
He was cool, though. We had lunch after, and talked about what happened. I have the great misfortune of not being able to keep my thoughts from appearing on my face, so he already had an idea of how I felt anyway. He was good about it and said that it’s usually more friendly, but I could tell that this was to be a great parting of ways. We’re still friends, but not as close, and it’s been a long road. But really, I couldn’t wish for more than his friendship and the occasional prayer to save my soul.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1]There is an exception to this statement. (There is always an exception.) When I visit different places of worship for regular services (i.e. not a wedding, baptism, funeral, etc.), after the services emissaries are often sent to see if I’ll join. I find this excusable for a couple of reasons, though. 1. It’s an understandable mistake. Why else would I attend a service if not to see if I’d like to join that religion or house of worship? 2. They always send women.
[2] Far be it from me to presume that you don’t know the history of the day, but just in case, here’s one version of the story. (There are several.) St. Valentine was martyred for secretly marrying couples in the Christian Church back when there was only one type of Christianity and it was illegal to be Christian. The choice of Feb. 14 as the day to celebrate is possibly the day Valentine died (in about 270). It is also, however, the sacred day of Juno, Queen of the Roman gods and goddess of married couples. Coincidence?
[3]At this point, it is probably prudent for me to add that as far as Catholics go, women as well as men take issue with me, although without the sexual bent and with less fervor to convert.
[4] Interestingly, although Jezebel is now associated with seduction for dire purposes, a la Delilah, there is no mention of sex in her efforts to convert her husband Ahab. This is true of many women in the Bible, but that would take up another whole blog to address.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Creepers
Creepers are a good place to start, because everyone has run into one, and no one likes them.
Creepers hang out in public places that people frequent--usually places where people can go for free or spend only a little money. So, you'll see them in cafes, book stores like Barnes and Noble, libraries, parks, etc. Sometimes you'll meet them in bars, but generally not, as they'd be more likely to have to spend real money at a place like that.
They hover, becoming regular features of their chosen haunts. They are alone, sometimes with a book, but usually not, just "people watching." What they are really doing is cruising for chicks. This, in and of itself, is not really a problem, nor is it unusual. However, there's always an issue--call it a disconnect--with creepers. For example, they may be hitting on women who are significantly younger than they are, or significantly more attractive.
They don't limit themselves to just one woman. They will approach any woman who looks vulnerable to them. They're generally good at telling who is likely to be polite enough (or scared enough) to give them the time of day, but if they misjudge, they simply move on to the next.
I have known many creepers in my life, but one in particular stands out, maybe because he's a recent encounter, or maybe because he has a special approach.
This particular individual is the library/bookstore kind of creeper. He frequents a library near where I work, one that I (now unfortunately) spend a fair amount of time in. He says he's an intellectual and claims to be high up in the world of education. He likes to pick up women who like (or have) to read. In fact, his opening line always seems to be something related to how refreshing it is to talk to an intelligent woman and then drops the names of a few authors he's read. Usually they are "Great Books" or canonical authors--the kind of thing English majors would have read in college in the '60s.
This brings me to his age. This guy definitely went to college in the '60s. I base this not only on the books he references--and I get the sense that he hasn't read much since college--but also on the jokes he makes and the way he describes his life at school. The women he talks to, though, are often currently in college or just out of it. In fact, I would guess that a woman who has been out of college for more than 10 years would be too old for him. He catches them looking at books for their English classes or looking for textbooks.
He's got his routine down pat. In my case, he started off praising my intellect and explained his connection with education. Then he asked for a resume and intimated that he wants to get me a job. (Note: It doesn't matter that I already have a job. He will "steal me away" for a better, and better paying, job.) He also wanted to fix me up with some of the many important people he knows. (He found out I'm not married by saying that my "husband is a very lucky man," although surely he has already looked at my bare left ring finger. He did not ask if I have a boyfriend.) By the end of the 45 minute conversation, during which he ignored the person clearly waiting for me, he was talking about "when" he takes me out to dinner, etc.
Here are some gems from the conversation: a joke in which a priest got rid of mice by baptizing them and making them part of the congregation, another joke about a man who thinks he's a chicken which I (somehow) had heard before, mentions of various "famous" people whom I had not heard of, and various allusions to his having a fat wallet including, but not limited to, showing me his credit card and taking out and showing me a check that he had written to a friend for $250,000. He was allegedly buying the friend's house.
The next time I was there he was using the same lines on a poor girl who couldn't have been more than 20. She had a friend with her, so I kept my head down and kept walking, lest he see me and head in my direction. I saw the girl later, leaving with her friend, so I guess she got away unscathed.
I'm looking for a new library.
Creepers hang out in public places that people frequent--usually places where people can go for free or spend only a little money. So, you'll see them in cafes, book stores like Barnes and Noble, libraries, parks, etc. Sometimes you'll meet them in bars, but generally not, as they'd be more likely to have to spend real money at a place like that.
They hover, becoming regular features of their chosen haunts. They are alone, sometimes with a book, but usually not, just "people watching." What they are really doing is cruising for chicks. This, in and of itself, is not really a problem, nor is it unusual. However, there's always an issue--call it a disconnect--with creepers. For example, they may be hitting on women who are significantly younger than they are, or significantly more attractive.
They don't limit themselves to just one woman. They will approach any woman who looks vulnerable to them. They're generally good at telling who is likely to be polite enough (or scared enough) to give them the time of day, but if they misjudge, they simply move on to the next.
I have known many creepers in my life, but one in particular stands out, maybe because he's a recent encounter, or maybe because he has a special approach.
This particular individual is the library/bookstore kind of creeper. He frequents a library near where I work, one that I (now unfortunately) spend a fair amount of time in. He says he's an intellectual and claims to be high up in the world of education. He likes to pick up women who like (or have) to read. In fact, his opening line always seems to be something related to how refreshing it is to talk to an intelligent woman and then drops the names of a few authors he's read. Usually they are "Great Books" or canonical authors--the kind of thing English majors would have read in college in the '60s.
This brings me to his age. This guy definitely went to college in the '60s. I base this not only on the books he references--and I get the sense that he hasn't read much since college--but also on the jokes he makes and the way he describes his life at school. The women he talks to, though, are often currently in college or just out of it. In fact, I would guess that a woman who has been out of college for more than 10 years would be too old for him. He catches them looking at books for their English classes or looking for textbooks.
He's got his routine down pat. In my case, he started off praising my intellect and explained his connection with education. Then he asked for a resume and intimated that he wants to get me a job. (Note: It doesn't matter that I already have a job. He will "steal me away" for a better, and better paying, job.) He also wanted to fix me up with some of the many important people he knows. (He found out I'm not married by saying that my "husband is a very lucky man," although surely he has already looked at my bare left ring finger. He did not ask if I have a boyfriend.) By the end of the 45 minute conversation, during which he ignored the person clearly waiting for me, he was talking about "when" he takes me out to dinner, etc.
Here are some gems from the conversation: a joke in which a priest got rid of mice by baptizing them and making them part of the congregation, another joke about a man who thinks he's a chicken which I (somehow) had heard before, mentions of various "famous" people whom I had not heard of, and various allusions to his having a fat wallet including, but not limited to, showing me his credit card and taking out and showing me a check that he had written to a friend for $250,000. He was allegedly buying the friend's house.
The next time I was there he was using the same lines on a poor girl who couldn't have been more than 20. She had a friend with her, so I kept my head down and kept walking, lest he see me and head in my direction. I saw the girl later, leaving with her friend, so I guess she got away unscathed.
I'm looking for a new library.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Introductions
Let me start by saying that when I say "men," I mean simply people who are male and over 18, without reference to age or maturity. I realize that the word "man" can have nuances of meaning beyond my definition, but I'm sticking to the term for the sake of simplicity.
My intentions hereafter are to give a short history of some of the more interesting men I have known, sort of a classification of men, really. I've noticed that (as Agatha Christie put it) "people are much the same anywhere you go," and I'll be highlighting some of those similarities here. Each post will address one type of man with examples from my personal experience. Some of the men I've met defy classification and will get a post all to themselves. Needless to say I won't be using real names.
Some of these are guys I've dated; some are guys I haven't, for a variety of reasons. All of them, though, have touched my life in a variety of ways, and those experiences have stuck with me, even if the men themselves haven't.
I look at this blog as a celebration of the men who have passed into (and out of) my life, although some of them might not think so if they read it.
My intentions hereafter are to give a short history of some of the more interesting men I have known, sort of a classification of men, really. I've noticed that (as Agatha Christie put it) "people are much the same anywhere you go," and I'll be highlighting some of those similarities here. Each post will address one type of man with examples from my personal experience. Some of the men I've met defy classification and will get a post all to themselves. Needless to say I won't be using real names.
Some of these are guys I've dated; some are guys I haven't, for a variety of reasons. All of them, though, have touched my life in a variety of ways, and those experiences have stuck with me, even if the men themselves haven't.
I look at this blog as a celebration of the men who have passed into (and out of) my life, although some of them might not think so if they read it.
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