MEN

This was originally written because a particular guy became a problematic person in my life. He's still around. I changed the names to protect the guilty. I don't know why I'm posting it, either. Here goes me quoting me:

OK, just for a minute, let’s talk about men. They are a problem, don’t we agree? - I mean unless you are one. Are you a problem to yourself, men? They seem so simple, and yet so illusive. When I was younger it was always the wrong guy that followed me home. They would be all mooney-eyed and totally repulsive to me. It still is that way, but it happens less often. The ones I wanted were cool. They didn’t lose their heads. They had a plan and they lived their lives on their own terms. I guess that’s what I admire most about men. They seem to have a grasp on that living their life on their own terms thing. Maybe it is just that they are accustomed to appearing invulnerable for their peers – other men, and that is what so attracts me. Maybe- I am not so sure about that. It’s a sort of devil-may-care attitude, a personal assurance that they are so right so strong so in control of the world. I guess that’s it. A man sets the standard, and us women have to live up to it or flunk out. If you aren’t blond enough or thin enough or sexy enough, then you are generally out of the running for the cool guys. They have established what is cool for a female and reject anything that doesn’t measure up.

I never measure up. I am short for one thing. It seems long Julia Roberts legs are the most desirable. Mine are short because I’m short, and they are sturdy. I have defined muscling. I can’t help it. I build muscle easily when I exercise. I am fairly active – though not as active as I used to be or as active as I should be. I can’t run very fast. I can’t jump high. I guess they want to think about those long legs wrapped around their waists. I don’t know that, but men seem to be mostly oriented around sex when it comes to their relationships with women. One guy I met talked about his rotten luck with women. He had three wives, all of them the same sort of money-grubbing sex kittens who left him after a while. He said he never had a woman who was a friend. I asked why not. He mumbled stuff about feeling attracted and scared and I said "Oh, it’s the sex monster. You can’t think of a woman as a friend AND a sexual partner." He agreed. Friendship is reserved for other men. Sex is reserved for women. I think the guy is a victim of immaturity. I think when it comes to relationships with women lots of guys feel that way. To me, the ideal partner would be a man who is my best friend and my lover.

Another reason I can’t get the cool guys is that I am smart. Cool guys always want their women to be dumber than they are. Sometimes this is a real reach. Guys are not all uniformly intelligent. I try to hide my intelligence, but I am a know-it-all by nature, and it leaks out whenever I get comfortable. Maybe guys feel like I pulled a trick on them. If I am smart, then what other plots they can’t even think of am I hatching? I am also not humble. I think I’m pretty cool, and I don’t care if they know it. Maybe they don’t like arrogance in their women. Maybe they want smiling demure little sex kittens without a thought in their heads. Just look at the women some of these powerful men pick. They are not real people, they are accessories.
I want my guy to be my pal. I want him to know he can count on me to be there on the other end of the 2X4 holding up my end - metaphorically speaking, or even literally. I want to know he will be there for me, as well. I like hanging out with the guys and doing stuff they like to do. I don’t care about fingernail polish, jewelry and hairdos. Well, that last part is wrong. I have beautiful hair and I love it. I especially like it long and I like to arrange it different ways to reflect my mood. My hair is tri-colored naturally. When I was young, it was black mixed with a deep maroon and streaked with a bright rust-red that bleached out in the sun. I spent a lot of time in the sun. My hair looked like an expensive dye job, but it is natural all the way. Also, it is poker straight. I hate frizzing it all up with permanents and curling irons and such.

Nowadays the maroon is still there. The black is snow white, and the red is blond. It’s still tri-colored. I don’t dye it to cover up the gray. I guess that’s a problem. The perception of women who have grey hair is not a positive one. People tend to make assumptions about you that are not true, but the fact that they believe it makes it true for them. It is very difficult to get past that prejudice. It is very difficult for a woman my age to find a quality lover. You have to take the drunks and the rejects. Yeck! I’ll remain celibate, I guess, but it sucks – big time. It’s the second worst thing about getting older.

The first is aches and pains: joints that hurt, muscles that strain more easily. Before exercising, I have to remind myself all the time that I have to warm up more slowly and do gentle stretching before I do anything. Then, I feel like I have used up all my exercise time and go off to do something else – like take a nap or just sit down with my feet up. Also, when I over-do it a bit, I don’t recuperate as quickly as I used to. In the past, a ten minute breather would do it. Now, I may poop out for the day. If I lift too much or strain something it takes days and days to get over it. I used to take a hot shower, get a good night’s sleep, and be fine in the morning. No more. I gave up endurance riding, which at one time I loved. It got too painful to be enjoyable. I don’t even ride much because I am afraid of falling and breaking something. My bones are not brittle that I know of. I think probably they are just fine. I still am afraid of falling. After riding all these years, I know that a fall now and then is inevitable. It is a stopper. My horses are all spirited. I like them that way. That means, though that sudden moves can unseat me.
Another thing that turns off the cool guys is my weight. This society frowns on overweight people. A mature female form is almost never seen in the movies except in a derogatory way. Cool guys don’t want to be seen with a "fat girl". It is a put-down to their sexual prowess. Cool guys need cool women. That means tall, thin – very thin – and mostly blonde, although long brown hair is OK if all the other things are there.

I love to cook. I like to eat. I also have a very economical metabolism. I don’t need many calories to maintain myself. After all, if you are 110 pounds, (I wish) you don’t need 2,000 calories a day. You need about 1200 or less. That isn’t very much food. I love beef. I use real butter. I love potatoes and pasta, too. My favorite meal is a steak and a spinach salad. I love desserts especially ice cream. French vanilla is my favorite. I can’t keep a half-gallon of ice cream in my house. I will eat it all in a matter of a couple of days. I can’t resist chocolate, either. I can be fine for quite a while, and then I will go on a feeding frenzy and eat everything in the house. I have tried every diet I have come across. The one that works best is Weight Watchers. When I was weighing out portions on the diabetic exchange system I lost weight, too. I also need to exercise EVERY DAY.

My exercise routine goes like this:

AM: stretching and calisthenics working every muscle in the body without weights

Noon: walk 1 mile

PM: Go to the gym, do stretching, walk 1 mile, work out on exercise machines with maximum weights I can handle without pain for 30 minutes, walk ½ mile slowly to cool down.

This takes a lot of time and a lot of self-discipline. I can’t do some of the weight machines that I used to because of my hip. I dislocated it and it has never been right. If I move wrong, it "pops", and it hurts a lot. I have avoided the pain of exercising and so I have gained a lot of weight. It is all tied up with my frustration over no lover, too. I eat because it is a pleasure that I can still enjoy. Lately, heart burn is taking that pleasure away, too. I think that if I put on my walking shoes, and take Billy for a walk every day for at least an hour, it will help a lot, and maybe add some stretching and a few light calisthenics to keep things fluid. Yeah, I’ll get on my walking shoes, put on a jacket and take Billy for a walk right after I finish writing for the day. Yeah, right.

The cool woman is in touch with what her culture sees as current style. Cool women dress a certain way. Cool guys look for that. She doesn’t go way nuts. Cool guys want their women to be attractive to other guys. They want to be able to display her among their peers and get nods of approval. Nice ass, nice legs, enough mammary glands, a regular face with "pretty" eyes and lipstick. Good teeth, clear skin, shiny hair. She has to look healthy and ready to breed.
I gave up on cool guys a long time ago. I look for the diamond in the rough. I look for the guys with substance. I look for brains and a little brawn. I usually steer clear of pretty boys, powerful men and the extra rich. I don’t think that I fit the mold for their tastes, and I have had enough rejection from these types to last me a long time. I also have found that I am no good at approaching men. They almost always shy away from me if I approach them. It is far better if they make the first move. This almost eliminates shy guys unless they suck it up and make the first move. I find that when I just relax, go out for a reason other than to meet men, and just be me, dress as I like: clean, smelling nice, and with my hair combed, I can sit with the guys and chat and they will be glad to see me. They will relax, too and I will have a nice time. Unfortunately, I will always come home alone – the same way I arrived. I think perhaps I am too independent. You see, I don’t really need a man in my life. I can just be friends and it’s OK. I support myself. I am resourceful and I can do what I need to do to survive. I don’t want some man coming into my life and re-arranging things his way. I like being captain of my own ship. I sail where I want to. I am no man’s girl-friend. I am just Glee.

I just contradicted myself. On the one hand, I want a man to love who loves me back, and on the other hand, I like my independence. How can I resolve that? I have everything my way in my house. How can I make room for a man here? In many ways, it would ideal for me having him with his own space. I wonder if I had a lover if he would be comfortable with his own living quarters. Would he leave when I needed my space? Would he resent that?
Glee