By Victor Greto
Are men becoming disposable?
Is it me, or are guys panicking over nothing about our changing social situation?
Take this blurb from a new book out by Michael Gilbert, called “The Disposable Male: Sex, Love, and Money—Your World through Darwin’s Eyes.”
“The everyday male is in trouble,” writes Gilbert. “Men’s ancient and defining role as resource provider has been downsized and outsourced. Declared obsolete and cast adrift, the modern hunter is searching for a new job description.”
I’ve never been much of a hunter, but I feel neither disposable nor obsolete because women are becoming executives, make up the majority of college graduates, and have even taken the presidency of Harvard from Lawrence Summers.
In fact, it pretty much turns me on.
Actually, and alas, we all are ultimately disposable, because the world will move on without us.
But I’m not going to moan about that (at least not right now).
If my sex’s “ancient and defining role” is changing, perhaps that’s good.
I never did much like it.
I mean, I know nothing – and have no interest – in being the stereotypical handyman-type guy who knows how to screw in drywall with one hand and change the oil in the car with the other.
I like “providing,” but not in any bullying “my way or the highway” sort of way.
I work hard. I like to read. I like to write. I like to walk. I like being by myself a lot of the time.
And, yes, I like women.
That’s good enough for me.
Now, is it good enough for at least one woman?
Women and astrology
I’m not quite sure why, but most of the women I’ve known are into astrology.
At first, I thought they were joking, as if it were a campy extension of the clichéd line, “What’s your sign?”
But I think most of them are serious.
When I tell them I’m an Aquarius, they either are happy or sad, but never indifferent. Why?
One woman I knew brought a book with her when we met at a bar and went over some of the things it said about how my sign and her sign interacted.
And it was so cute how “right on” everything – well, some of the things – was. You’d think our happiness had been predicted before we both were born.
It seemed to make her feel good.
I admit it made me feel good, too, but not because I thought our stars were aligned.
I foolishly thought that was the end of that. I wouldn’t have to think about such nonsense again.
Wrong.
Because she kept doing it, whether she read it from the daily newspaper, or from some online site, or from an updated astrology guide.
When the predictions didn’t make sense – even though the statements were as loosely worded as possible – she would ignore what it had to say.
Here’s a dry thought: I think astrology is an interesting idea, and a great historical phenomenon to study because of its role in history.
But to believe that our existences and relationships are determined or affected by movements in space, and dependent, no matter how loosely, on the time of year we were born?
I just can’t go there.
That said, my attitude is a little different than Shakespeare’s line from “Julius Caesar,” that “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves…”
Because I also happen to believe, with Hamlet, that, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
But, for me, those “things in heaven and earth” are metaphors for the complexity of relationships and feelings that are so multifarious they stun the individual imagination into making leaps of logic and faith.
I think one of those often soothing leaps may be our horoscopes.
A relationship litmus test?
Do you think it’s fair to have a litmus test for a relationship?
Politically, many voters or politicians use one’s views on abortion as an essential litmus test.
In relationships, especially as we age, either like a fine wine or a moldering cheese, there are habits and things we do that we just love, and seem unwilling to give up for anything, even the eradication of loneliness.
For instance, I like to smoke cigars.
Just one at a time, mind you, and not all that regularly (especially in winter).
But I like the smell and the taste and the relaxing 45 minutes it gives me to take in the world.
Ever since I reached middle age, the fact that I like a cigar has become a litmus test for whether the woman I’m with likes me.
Does she like me enough to either,
1) Put up with the cigar?
Or,
2) Get to like it because the smell reminds her of me?
Or, best of all,
3) Does it not even matter to her?
Isn’t a good relationship more about how we work together as a couple, and how we miss each other when we’re outside of each other’s presence?
For instance, some people who put restrictions on a relationship before it begins tell me that being with a smoker is out, period, end of story, no more discussion.
Silly.
Because it doesn’t matter. To me, if she likes to smoke, she can smoke. I can see her through the puffs. And, if she wants to quit, I’ll help her quit. I’ll even smoke away with her by taking a walk with my cigar.
Some people say that a partner smells awful after smoking. They’re wrong. Love is not skin- or scent-deep. If it was, then we’re all liars and fools when we cake on our deodorant and perfumes and soaps and lotions before we go out into the world.
When I’m in love, it’s with you and all your virtues and vices and hang-ups and baggage. That’s all part of the deal.
Think about it: There’s a lot of stuff to cut through for a kiss.
So what’s a little smoke? A puff of smoke is just a metaphor realized, for all that stuff we’ve accumulated over the years that shroud us from ourselves and from others.
Just watch me cut through that. If you’ll let me.
Strong women
Strong, independent women think men have a hard time dealing with them.
I’ve heard several tell me that men say they like them as they are – high-powered, sexy and raking in the bucks — but after a while, it’s just too intimidating and damaging to our egos.
Well, you’re wrong.
And right.
Isn’t that an annoying answer?
One positive way to look at this issue is to use your sense of self and independence as a litmus test.
It’s a great way of observing the mettle of the guy with whom you’ve chosen to be.
After all, you probably chose him at first because of a chemical reaction, or due to the superficial fact that he’s funny, or good-looking, or mysterious.
Here’s a way to get really deep inside him.
If he’s eventually intimidated by you, he’s obviously not sure of himself, and you don’t need that. So, lucky you found out.
If he remains cool with you, then, for at least that part of the relationship equation, you can rest easy.
But never too easy.
Because it’s always something, and it may be really staring out at you from a mirror.
One lady I met told me that she was beautiful and sexy and powerful and that guys just can’t handle her because of her aggressiveness and certitude. And, darn it, she was getting tired of these guys.
But sometimes the fault is in ourselves and not the other person.
Maybe what those men had a problem with was not her high-powered career or edifying self-confidence.
Perhaps it was just her blustery ego.
Sound familiar? Sure. It works both ways. And that’s yet another annoying and complicated reality of figuring out what relationship is right for you.