Men Only! No Religion! Chick -Lit Invades the Cave!
January 25, 2015
By Jane Tawel
This posting is for my men followers. I have two: my husband, Raoul, and my friend Steve. Raoul has to follow my blog because he made me do it in the first place and he is still married to me. I have no idea why my friend, Steve, follows me but he does like extreme sports and has a very high pain tolerance.
About a month ago I wrote a short story and had dreams of publishing it in The New Yorker or something small like that. My husband read it and claimed, like God, that it was good and then told me I should submit it to, and I quote, “a women’s magazine or something”. Okay, at first I was offended, sure, but then I thought, why should I be offended that men think I write primarily for women. I mean women are the ones who use both sides of their brains right?
But since Chick-Lit has a limited audience, I decided to write this post for all my boys. Okay right there, you can tell I already messed up writing Dude-Lit. Because Dudes, Guys, Males do not like it at all if you call them “boys”. Using the word “boy” for a male is considered discriminatory. In fact using the Male form of the “B-word” is like using the Female form of the “B-word” which is a word tossed around like a badge of honor among women now but which frankly I loathe.
Using the “B-word” (Boys) for a man when you are not one, is exactly like using the “N-word”, when you are not one. If you are an “N” you can use it to your heart’s content and if you are not an “N” and you use the “N” word you are a racist. If you are a Guy, you can use the “B” word all you like, but if you are not, you are being demeaning. Frankly, I don’t like any one using the “N-word”, but I really do like calling my husband and son, “boys”. So sue me; I don’t have any money of my own anyway.
By the way if you ever, ever call me the “B-word” for women, I will punch you. Even if you are a woman –but especially if you are a boy.
If you are a woman and you are still reading this, you must leave now. But if you take a flashlight and go hide in a closet you can keep reading, okay?
Men think women want to have man-caves like they do. Men, I am going to share some special female secrets with you, okay? The only way women want a man-cave is if it has a Starbucks and a Sees Candy Shop inside. Also, if you ever invite us into your man-cave, we will know it is only because you do not want to pick up all the underwear lying on the floor yourself. We will not be fooled. Finally, if you ever do seduce us into the man cave, we will talk. And talk. And keep talking. We stopped grunting when we left the caves and moved into sweet little straw thatched huts. You have been fairly warned.
The only way in tarnation that I will be mentioning anything religious from here on in this post is if I reference the Crusades. Okay, I’m going to reference the Crusades.
Men need to fight stuff. They need to conquer. Hence, the Crusades. When they can’t conquer other countries, they are going to conquer other avatars. And if you are a woman in a closet with a flashlight right now, men need to keep feeling they are conquering you. See, men need to seek dragons, find dragons, fight dragons, and conquer dragons or die trying. Hence the term “Knights in Shining Armor”.
Now the Crusades ended, well, I’m not clear on the timeline but a while ago anyway. But boys still need to charge out into battle and fight dragons. Their dragons are rarely terrorists but sometimes they are I guess if you are a policeman or Navy Seal or Kindergarten teacher, but men have to fight something. Often when the man comes home tired from a day of looking for dragons he didn’t find, well, then the man sees you and well, you could be the dragon. Gals, You do not want to be the dragon in this situation.
Now we all know that young men want to conquer young women and that is often confusing when it comes to sex. See, when it comes to sex, men and women get kinda confused because frankly, raging hormones are as confusing as short selling. (I still think if Martha Stewart had been a man she would have beat that prison rap). So when it comes to the battle of sex and The Battle of the Sexes, both the man and the woman are wondering: Is she the dragon to conquer or is she the damsel that the young boy has the hots for and hence will lay the conquered dragon at her feet?
This damsel/ dragon equation never changes. So women in closets with flashlights, if you want to make a man happy you sort have to live a bi-polar existence as the Dragon Damsel or something like that. For instance, I realize that when my husband offers to rub my feet before having sex, it is not because he knows that pleases me but because my feet are the dragons. I play along as the damsel. My husband-boy rubs my stinky, calloused feet because he must conquer the dragons before he gets his conquest. He has gotten pretty darn fast at conquering my dragons, let me tell you.
But you have to be very, very careful with this dragon/ damsel thing because except for sex, women in closets with flashlights, you should never cast yourself as the dragon.
Men also need to conquer the dragons of conversations. I was confirming with a woman friend the other day that basically women like to build ideas and thereby build relationship when they talk. Men just like to win. Again,–dragons. So a woman may start various conversations that go something like:
#1: Woman: I’m so sorry but I disagree with your premise. Reagan, even when dead, would not make a better president than our current president.
Man: (Seems as if he did not hear but IN HIS MIND, says): I am right.
#2: Woman: What do you think of the existential worldview that the LA Times seems to be taking in its editorials these days?
Man:(Seems as if he did not hear but IN HIS MIND, says): I am right.
#3: Woman: Did you see that poor homeless man with the broken leg at Pavilion’s today? He was begging for money and I was reminded of a Charles Dickens story. I was wondering if we should go back and offer to take him to dinner or adopt him to come live with us.
Man: (Seems as if he did not hear but IN HIS MIND, says): I am right.
#4: Woman: Where are you going?
Woman: OH, good you need to work out to get rid of all that stress. How long are you going to be gone because I was thinking about having dinner ready in an hour? Do stir fry vegetables sound good again tonight? Are you doing the sauna after? Don’t forget your towel. Be careful with your back.
Man: (Seems as if he did not hear but IN HIS MIND, Says): I am right.
Man walks toward door.
Woman: Aren’t you forgetting something? You forgot to kiss me. Don’t you love me any more? Okay, fine. Just go ahead and go.
Man: (Seems as if he did not hear but IN HIS MIND, Says): Frankly, in his mind he is now thinking and saying absolutely nothing. The battle is starting without him.
Woman: Okay, have fun! Be safe! Have fun! Be safe!
Man is already gone. He is off to conquer the treadmill. The treadmill is his dragon. He will refuse to have fun. He will refuse to be safe. He will conquer.
See, in those conversations, the man is right every single time. He must be absolutely sure, steady, brave in battle, fearless, never doubting of his extremely fine skills – because otherwise, the dragon wins. If he doubts that he is in the right, then the man gets hurt or worse, dies and the dragon wins. Being right all the time means the dragon always loses.
See here is the problem. Men need to conquer dragons. If you argue him into a corner, or don’t leave his pride in tact, or you make his fights about you, well, then guess who is his dragon? You, “Little Miss I Am Woman Hear Me Roar”. You may never see him in battle with his dragon, but don’t mistake, his dragon is real. So when he slinks off at the end of the day to his man-cave, he may be licking his wounds. Just hand him some Neosporin through the cave opening and go back to your stir fry. And when he comes home and offers to rub your feet, then he has conquered his dragon. And he has come home to celebrate with you. That’s a full stop.
So now some of my women friends in the closet with flashlights are angry with me because I am making it seem as if Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars. (Holy Moley, don’t you wish you’d written that book?)
You know, I grew up in the Seventies and I am as much an “I Am Woman Hear Me Roar” kinda gal as the next chick. But, honestly when my son came out of the womb he was already completely different than the girls I had previously birthed. Oh, sure he popped out crying just like his three older sisters, but when he saw I was giving him sympathy for his cries, he clammed up immediately and wouldn’t talk to me for 10 months.
Women I’m not saying we shouldn’t argue with our boys, or that we aren’t basically usually always right. But men and women argue for different reasons. If you don’t go into battle understanding that, then both of you lose.
Okay, fair enough, not all men are the same and not all women are the same and hip, hip hurray we live in a country and time that it has gotten pretty darn mixed up at times in terms of gender appropriate behavior.
I really appreciate women with extra testosterone and as a matter of fact I appreciate the men who have an extra dollop of estrogen as well. We need these people in the Gender Wars. In The Beginning, Men were given extra testosterone and Women were given extra estrogen so they could use their hormonal imbalances to fight each other. We desperately need women and men with too much of the other’s hormone. In the great Gender Battles of our day, it is the testosterone -enhanced women and estrogen- enhanced men who run out on the battlefield waving little hormonal white flags, yelling, “Truce! Truce!” “Can’t we all just get along?”
This is why it is recommended in all Good Books, that a man and a woman stay married to each other for as long as they can possibly duke it out. Because after thirty years of marriage, his testosterone wanes and her estrogen waxes and they are basically just a contented, battle-scarred neutered couple of ex-prize fighters.
I have some Facebook friends who brag about all the sweet things their husbands do for them. Gag me with a javelin! My husband, I am proud to say, rarely does sweet things for me. He is busy fighting dragons! See men weren’t created to do sweet things. They were meant to go kill stuff or figure out other people’s taxes or teach Geometry and then come home with the kill and throw it at the woman’s feet. THEN, and only then, bloodied with red ink, blinded by computer back lighting, fingers aching from pencil pushing, and roaring throats sore with lecturing – THEN, after the woman has gushed and oohed and aahed – THEN, The Man is ready to show his softer side. Because he is a manly man and men who have conquered dragons all day, can come home and be a little bit sweet. It is not cute, it is an aberration in an otherwise battle-scarred hero.
So this is for my two battle-scarred heroes, facing yet another dragon today:
Raoul and Gordon, you are not my boys. You are my men. I owe you an apology. It has been a long time since I have thanked you for going out and conquering dragons. I am proud to claim you as the men in my life. You are brave in battle and fearless in your search for the monsters in our lives. You are wise even if you don’t talk much and you are sweet when no one is looking. I’m sorry I am rather limited in my Chick-Lit view of life, but I am glad you have both been patient in teaching me about Men. I won’t let on to you that I understand, or that I sometimes feel sorry for all the things you have to go through as men, or that I sometimes feel sad for how lonely it must be sometimes to be a man out there fighting dragons. I’ll try to be quiet sometimes when you need me to and I’ll keep trying to help you talk, because you need me to do that whether you will admit it or not.
Raoul and Gordon, thanks for riding out to win, yet again today. May your dragons be slain honorably and your battle scars heal well. I’ll be here, in the closet with my flashlight, reading some car manuals or battle plans or something and trying to get to know you boys, just a little bit better and love you a whole lot more.
Now get back out there in the fray, but come home safe to me, you hear?