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I have a complaint.
I'm forever being told by my female friends that men don't make any sense. Keep in mind this is when they are asking for my "expert" opinion on all things male, simply because I happen to be one. My typical response to this blantant attack on the thought processes of my fellow drooling, sex obsessed, and inarticulate brothers is "Pot, this is Kettle calling."
Now before the ladies in the audience start getting all worked up, let me start by saying this; I never said that men made sense. Because, quite simply the majority of us don't. But face it ladies, we don't exactly have the corner on that market.
The easiest way to explain why I feel that mind and heart of the average woman makes no more sense to me than say, astrophysics, is to talk about false advertising. Yes, false advertising. I've always been curious as to what women were looking for in a man. In my quest to gather this possibly life altering information I thought to myself. "Who better to lift the veil of mystery as to what women really want than those who are unburdened by the weight of male companionship?" So I asked as many of my single female friends as I could find, exactly what qualities their ideal man would possess. Imagine my suprise when most of their answers were the same.
The most common response was almost always "a good sense of humor". The first time I heard those words fall from the lips of a very attractive, very desireable friend's lips I did a little dance. On the inside mind you, as I am chronically Caucasian and cannot, without ingesting copius quantities of alcohol, even begin to cut a rug. The reason for my inner Travolta is this, when it comes to making a woman laugh I've got it made. Witty reparte is my specialty. If that's step one to being the perfect man, I'm in like flint.
The other most common response was being sensitive, romantic, and nuturing. You know all of those words that Oprah and her henchman Dr. Phil use on a daily basis. "He watches Oprah?, Surely not!" You would be correct in that assumption, but I have a mother who does, and Oprah-speak weighs heavily in the conversations about why said son hasn't settled down with a nice girl. Oprah-speak aside, once again, I was relieved, for you see I have all of those qualities as well.
I was raised by women, the Oprah watching kind mind you, and therefore have been told on countless occasions that I have a better understanding of the female mind than most of my knuckle-dragging compatriots.
I'm the kind of guy, who has driven an hour and a half to hand-deliver a pint of ice cream and flowers in an attempt to ease a friends depression. I'm the supposedly elusive male creature who isn't afraid of commitment, who rembers birthdays and calls just to tell that special lady I'm thinking of her. I do not operate under the impression that when "Mr. Monthly" shows up that it implies "fellatio fest" for the next seven days. Hell I'll even buy the tampons without flinching! So it stands to reason that I should be able to find someone to share my time with. Yes, even the "naked time", for all you "real" men out there.
However, this is simply not the case. Much to my growing horror, I realized that while women say that they want these things in a man, and that they are more important than any other attribute, that it's all a family-sized pack of lies.
That's right, women lie about what they want. Lie to us, lie to Cosmo magazine, lie even to themselves. They don't want the quick witted, sensitive type at all. Unless it comes in a certain package, that is. We all know the package I'm talking about; rugged good looks, nice smile, muscles. To use one of my favorite movies, "Chasing Amy" as an example, who want's Kevin Smith, when they can have Ben Affleck? The words are Kevin's, Affleck's just an actor.
The tragedy is that women actually believe their own propoganda, they belive it's all about the personality, the heart and mind rather than the body. Believe me I've tried to point out the truth, only to be told I'm projecting my own viewpoint on to others. You can bet Oprah and Dr. Phil are responsible for that argument.
While we Neo-Neanderthals have the courage to ask a woman out because she has a nice ass and admit it without shame, the ladies get defensive. Face it folks we all take a good look at the cover of a book before deciding whether or not to to take it home.
Women seem to understand just how fake and shallow that is and hence begin brainwashing themselves, the media, and the vast majority of the estrogen-challenged that it's what's on the inside that counts to the enlightened female of the species.
My ass! If that were true, I wouldn't be sitting here writing this column. I'd be at Barnes and Noble reading the first chapter of a book in an attempt to find out if it was worth curling up with for the night, with my date for the evening, Ashley Judd!
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Smile if you're stupid,
laugh if you understand.
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In Love with a Married Woman: DogTalk
