"I thought you were different."
It's a line I've heard a few times over the years.
What does it mean? That they thought I was a girl? Gee, sorry I disappointed you. Although that being said, I do like to think I'm in touch with my sensitive side.
I usually take the statement as a reference or a pseudo dig to one of their exes, and quite frankly, a pretty insidious thing for one person to say to another. The fact that I'm not the person they thought I was makes me want to crawl into a hole and not come out for a while.
I don't though.
Ultimately, I've always considered the comment somewhat of a relief. Like maybe I really am the stereotypical, insensitive, beligerent, male. I mean, deep down we all want to be Billy Baddasses, right?
Male bravado has always given me something to write about. And how hard (no pun intended) some dudes go to display their toughness is something worth satirizing. Now, I'm not talking about those dudes in the UFC or whatever it's called. Those dudes really are bad asses. And there are plenty of things both genders do that confirm our strengths that have nothing to do with beating the living spit out of one another. But there are certain external behaviors that men do which are ridiculous. I'm not going to pick on women behaviors because I don't really understand them and I don't want them to hate me because then I think my life might become pointless.
I frequently can be found down on Main Strausse in Covington, KY having a beer out on the sidewalk with a friend or friends. There are times when our conversations will regularly be interrupted by extremely loud motorcycles being driven around the block. It is negative, anti-social behavior and disconcerting if you are deeply involved in conversation. Of course, it doesn't help that my friend likes to yell out that the men driving the bikes have small penises. His point is well taken though. Riding the loud bike through a crowded area blantantly screams out a number of insecurities on their part and is a misguided effort at hiding those insecurities. Certainly there are inately male behaviors that at least in certain circles, we indulge in. Call it being a dude, following guy code, or whatever cheesy platitude you want to ascribe to the behavior. Whether they be crude, infantile, or blatantly offensive behaviors, we men also have a sensitive side that should not be repressed. Those guys driving those bikes--they need a hug, but they're either afraid to go get one or to go give one. We all have peaks and valleys, accomplishments and disappointments and both usually occur when we are putting a lot of effort into something or someone, and these experiences are what can create our insecurities and develop our coping skills. In some cases, these experiences make us hard, anti-social jerk-offs who would rather be negative and bring down every social situation we're put in rather than make a positive impact on our surroundings. It's often a result of a fear of repeating or reliving those highs and lows that can push people to anti-social behavior.
I like to think that I am in touch with my sensitive side. Don't misunderstand me; I have an ego, a pretty big one. I have my moments of self centered, "please pay attention to me" moments when I am around others. I was out recently going on about running 3 miles in 20 minutes and how great I was in MS Access. It is a very embarrassing memory (not of the run or my grasp of Access, but the bragging). Sometimes I think I really need to get over my self. And then I do for a little while.
One of the things that helps me be sensitive is my garden. I have a vegetable garden. A pretty big one (see, that's a guy comment, had to get that one in there). Produces way more than I need, which means I get to share, which means I'm sensitive (sort of, I only share what I don't want and only when I feel like it).
I also have a flower garden. Flower gardens are not manly. Having a flower garden is not something I brag about. You want to know what I do brag about? Not the colors of the flowers, THE SIZE OF THEM. I grow mammoth sunflowers in my garden. You ever seen them? They're huge man; GIGANTIC. 12 feet tall. Blooms are two feet wide. They give you hundreds of seeds per flower. Do I like flowers? yes. Do I brag about growing them? No . . . well . . . sort of.
That's the joke, the satire in it all. I don't talk about the beauty of the flowers; I talk about their size. The amount of seeds they produce. The amount of space they take up. That's manly. And I think that's worth a laugh. What is not quite as funny are the guys who use guns and a variety of other noise makers to get attention. Not just the jack off who goes around killing and hurting people but the doofus that shoots the gun off his porch and hollers, "Wooo Hoooo!" What do you do if you want people to think you're tough when you're feeling wimpy? Buy a gun or some bombs or something noisy, then go somewhere and be destructive or at the very least, annoying (yeah suicide bombers, even you). In my fiction, guns almost always represent a false sense of phallus. They are pulled out or are used at those moments of heightened insecurity. A crossroads, if you will, where a man has to decide to accept who he is or hide it until it consumes him. Of course, that's in my fiction.
The short clip below is one of the funnier ones I've ever seen from Family Guy. It parodies a scenario where men hide their true feelings while sitting around drinking beer. It does this utilizing a conversation about Barry Manilow, a musician not exactly known for his machismo. I remember mom having a Barry Manilow album when I was a little kid, probably still does; the cover had a close up portrait of Manilow and when I first looked at the cover I thought, "is that a girl?"
I can't say that I have a favorite Barry Manilow song, but I think most people do. I remember asking a girl I once knew and cared about, if she ever heard the song, "Even Now," by Bob Segar. She didn't hear me say the Segar part, just the title, "Even Now". She got very excited before I finished the question, got on the computer, brought up the Manilow song, and listened to it teary-eyed. She would occasionally look to me, either for approval or to see if I was a little clempt, too. I wasn't. I was beside myself. I don't talk to her anymore, not because of that, though I bet it's related somehow (I'm pretty sure she wasn't thinking of me when she was listening to the song).
I think we all have at least one song that could turn us into a girl if we listened to it enough. It's usually because of a woman we have these songs. I have a few: "Rainbow Connection" by Kermit the Frog, "The Way You Kiss Me" by Faith Hill; there's a SEAL song that I can't remember, "Touched by a Rose" I think (in fact I may have gotten that Faith Hill title wrong), and then there was a Bee Gees song at one time but I can't remember it, so I guess it really doesn't count. I don't go out of my way to listen to these songs because 1) I don't want to turn into a girl and 2) I don't live in the past.
I don't have a favorite Barry Manilow song. I think you have to be married for like ten years minimum to like his music. Although I remember getting mom's album out once in a while and pretending I was a DJ and I would mix "Copa Cabana" in with some Beach Boys and Billy Joel. That was back when I was in grade school. And I was being a DJ which meant I was playing it for other people. Of course, there's that song, "Can't Smile Without You;" it's kind of cute. And I'd like to think I'll be with someone long enough that the refrain to the song, "Looks Like We Made It" might have some meaning. I'll probably be pooping in diapers by the time that happens though. And if I am, I'll probably be singing the song to myself (or to the nurse wiping my butt).
Enjoy the clip. Afterwards, read below.
The satire in this scene really comes out after Joe declares his love of Manilow. Look at his mouth after he says it. Clearly Joe said the one thing they all were thinking but were afraid to say as they spoke of Manilow's "okay" songs. The following scene has them at the concert and Quagmire gets serenaded by Manilow to the tune of "Mandy". Very funny if you can find it.
Sometimes I get caught up in these conversations about music and I can't tell if I'm in a pissing contest or a popularity contest. Some would argue that there is not much of a difference. Music is important, don't get me wrong, but it's not the kind of music you listen to so much as it is the importance of the music to the individual. There are a number of songs that will trigger memories and remind us of a time, often a specific moment in time or a specific person in our life, that we never want to forget for better or for worse. This becomes part of our identity, the very essence of who we are, which of course includes how we act around others. Those stories/memories are often more interesting than the music. Give me someone who listens to a bunch of stuff different than me any day over stuff I already listen to. It's a great way to get to know someone. Not so much the music itself as the stories behind why they listen to it. Even people who aren't really "into" music have those stories. And what I often find is that my musical tastes only broaden and my friendships only strengthen when I take the time to listen to those stories.
So I don't think us guys need to run around constantly talking about our favorite, mooshy, soft rock song. I just think it's okay if we have one. And if that song is playing in your head and it makes you smile, just don't tell anybody why you're smiling, dude. And for Christ's sake, get mufflers for your frickin' bikes.
Cheers.
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