for the crowd


Are Men Becoming Extinct?
December 5, 2008, 5:55 pm
Filed under: People | Tags: , , , ,

I have bad luck with men, or, maybe, I’m just being my own worst enemy and put myself in these situations. The good thing is that I’m not one of those people that needs to be in a relationship. I’m pretty happy with being by myself. After all, since I tend to have such a high opinion of myself the majority of the time (I swear I’m not a narcissist! Or possibly I am) I figure I’m in pretty good company. Anyway, when it comes to the opposite sex, I fail. I am always attracted to males who don’t care to have anything to do with me, and no matter what I do (which runs the gamut from swearing to being completely hostile) those I know who are of the male gender seem inevitably attracted to me. I don’t get it. “Well, you are pretty damn cute,” my friends say. Well, yeah, no shit, but I could not make it more clear if I am not interested in someone short of running them down with my car and screaming out the window.

Well, okay, not true. I could probably sit them down and have a talk, but that poses a lot of problems. For one, that is acknowledging there is a problem in itself, and really I’d rather just pretend not to know what’s going on and ignore the fact my male friends are sending me longing glances or laughing forcibly when I comment on how attractive another man is. I’m sure I’m not alone in this problem and there are tons of girls who suffer similar fates. Anyway, even people who know they shouldn’t be are completely silly when they’re infatuated, me included, so maybe I shouldn’t be so irritated by it. 

My point is, though, that I never respond to any advances that are sent my way because they’re always wrong. I don’t want to hook up on the dance floor with some farm boy from Saskatchewan who is only interested in seeing if my mouth does more than talk, because I’m not really a fan of hooking up at all. I don’t care for the guys who managed to wrestle out my number from me during my weaker moments when I was a newbie to the bar scene, and who called me minutes later, just to make sure I really gave them the right digits. Sometimes I get frustrated when someone offers to buy me a drink and I refuse, kindly, and they insist politely until I say, sure, why not, and after we do a shot of tequila I feel like a complete tool once we dismiss each other and head in separate directions. I know I must be like a welcome relief to guys in comparison to women who walk up and ask for a drink and then skidaddle, but it’s still not like they get anything for their efforts.

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is a bit unflattering, because I’m pretty sure Men are dead, or at least scarce to the point that they might as well be extinct. I mean, like, real men. All of my experiences thus far are with what I classify as either “guys” or more commonly “boys”. So yeah, I’m being completely sexist here, but let’s not kid ourselves, pick up any men or women’s magazine and no matter how tactful they try to be, they are sexist. And I don’t think it’s really a good thing, but it’s not all bad either (as anyone who believes in “Femininity” or “Masculinity” will argue for). The thing is, I don’t like boys. Boys are completely ridiculous. Boys want to make me feel like I’m treasured and loved, but are too thick to actually figure out the right way. Boys get tangled up in their emotions. Boys are completely psychotic.

I’m writing this because awhile back I read Where Have All The Cowboys Gone? by Amanda Pagliarini, who says she fears that all men are becoming teenage girls, and it got me to thinking. Seriously? What’s with boys harassing you via text messaging or email and deluding themselves into thinking it is all your fault because you happen to be a girl? The terrible thing about texting is that it’s now easy to make a complete fool of yourself, and it’s also easy to be psychotic and stalk people. I’ve had my fair share of being woken up at four in the morning because some idiotic boy (who was previously a friend) thinks it’s cool to tell me I’m a slut because he’s had one too many drinks and is still smarting from the fact I haven’t responded to any of his advances. With technology it is easier and easier for boys to be boys. (By the way, I think when people get drunk they should just turn off their cell phones, or have a friend looking out for them to chuck it in the garbage before it does any harm. Don’t you?).

I think Men are becoming extinct. You know, men. I’m tired of the losers in bars who drag me aside and try to talk to me when all I’m thinking about is trying to get away from their bad breath. I hate guys who want to be friends with me but only to get with me, or are friends who unload their baggage on me because I’m not attracted to them. I hate how men blame homosexuality if women have standards that are too high, and who don’t understand that some girls get freaked out if a stranger sneaks up behind them on the dance floor and starts grinding against them without permission. I don’t want men who treat me like a notch on their belt, or who consider my disinterest with them a personal insult. What I want are real men. Where did they go?

There’s a fine line between a manly man and someone who’s just a dick. Walking that line is an art. Any rough-and-tumble man I see nowadays is never into me, so I shrug and move on. Half of them are jerks, anyway. It seems like you can’t get a good, fit man without having to deal with him being a jackass, and nice, sweet boys are never in shape or healthy or stylish. Where are the freaking cowboys? Where are the guys that think women are great but don’t want to puzzle them out one bit? Where are the guys that are smart enough to remember your birthday?

I don’t want a sickly sweet boy who wants to talk about my feelings. My feelings are my own. And believe me, I’m a total wimp – I’ll cry at the drop of a hat because I have an eternally bleeding heart – but I’m not going to talk about it, I don’t want a heart-to-heart. During the summer, my friend got drunk, accidentally threw a racial slur at me, and then sloppily cried on me and begged my forgiveness and told me she loved me unconditionally, which I didn’t particularly like because that’s just an awkward, touchy-feely situation all ’round. When that shit happens, I just want to walk off in the other direction and go talk to someone who isn’t ruled by her ovaries.

I don’t want to be called every day to see how I am. I’m probably doing fine. I don’t want to see a guy every day of the week, because I need my personal space and I have other things to do. I don’t want someone who lies to me to try and preserve my feelings – I want honest, unfeeling truth. As terrible as it is, I want somebody who drives a fast car, will open the door for me from time to time, will be rugged and masculine and spontaneous, who can sit through a documentary and actually remember more than half of it, who wears dark colours and killer boots, and who isn’t a philandering scumbag. Oh, and while we’re talking about near impossible things, I’d like to have the Parliament Building converted into my own personal lovenest, and an international holiday declared in my honour. Yeah, I know. But a girl can dream. Sigh.

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