OhYe Men of Corinth!
I recently lay watching TV in the company of a gentleman with whom I have an ongoing flirtation. I enjoy his company. He's handsome, funny, actually likes to have good conversation and is even brave enough to let me pick the wine. During our evening, it struck me that perhaps the disconnect between men and boys is that they simply don't know they are men. In truth, if a man does not know he has become a man, versus the boy version of himself, how can he truly be a man?
The word "guy" bothers me. It has all the appeal and polish of Betty Rizzo or Frenchy from Grease calling their paramours "fellas." Well any male can act the part of a guy or a fella. But a real man...who can find him?
As I reclined with this gentleman, I remarked that I enjoyed his company because, though I knew a lot of guys, it was nice to be in the company of a man for a change. Bemused, he mulled the thought over in his head. When I asked him about his quizzical countenance, he remarked that he looked the way he did because, in truth he'd didn't know if anyone had ever referred to him as a man before. It was rather precious, I must say, in one respect. His comportment looked a little like a young boy with a superman cape on in front of a mirror, posturing to admire his new-found manly stature. But on the other hand, it was disconcerting in the extreme to believe that a twenty-eight year old man could not recollect ever having been called a MAN before that moment.
When do we become adults anyway....??? I suppose that in practice we become adults when we move out of mummy and dadums' nest, get a job, buy a car, pay taxes...all that rot. But to be honest, I have friends and acquaintances in their forties doing all that who act like teenagers, are unmarried, and some, sadly, still live with mum and dad.
I suppose because my generation has been made to pack so much "have-to" responsibility into 23 years or less, we just assume we're doing what all the other kids on the block are doing and we lose track of time altogether. Meanwhile, we get to my age...late twenties...and suddenly we want to have some fun. We've earned degrees, won and lost at love and work, moved out and in and out of different place. It's all so "normal." We're young people, young adults. But men? Women?
Anne Shirley, a character I quote often, arrived at her first big job far from home, better than prepared professionally to succeed. But upon meeting her mentor Miss Stacey at the train station she confessed that had Miss Stacey not been there she'd have sat right down and cried because she felt completely green, provincial and only ten-years-old. Now, Anne's character was only 17 at the time, but in the 1910's, 17 was an age by which time a lady was already a career woman or married and keeping house. Certainly I'm not suggesting I'd rather have married my high school sweetheart and been saddled with a half dozen offspring by now, but I think that the heart of the matter is that people in that time were compelled to be adults, women and men, at a much earlier age and given much less leeway to meander about aimlessly under the guise of "finding themselves."
As a Christian woman, there are a lot of expectations that I and my cultural niche have of me. As such, there are certain expectations I have of any potentially serious beau. Chatting with my former roommate Francie of late, I confessed I was all for being the traditional Proverbs 31 and Titus 2 woman, as per what the Bible says a good, godly-wife and woman should be. The problem I have with our present society is that, if it mandates, in my case, for we females to be women who live up to lofty and good ideals such as what is in Proverbs and the book of Titus, then, for the love of GOD (literally) we're gonna need some 1 Corinthians men.
Men need to know they are men. We want you rugged, reserved, wild at heart, your eyes on God, and fully aware that you are MEN MEN MEN not guys, fellas and heaven forbid, boys. We want you to know that we women are not here to "tie you down," burden you, nag you or strangle your dreams. As I said to my Aunt Maria only yesterday, "Heck if he wants to run around the world ten times a year, I'll run with him!"
I suppose our culture has painted the portrait of monogamy, marriage and relationships as that which suffocates dreams. And as such, it must be difficult to, as a male, see yourself as a man versus a young man, fella or guy. I say this for two reasons. The first it that, at times, it is no picnic being someones spouse unless you are a committed, go-getter, goal-orientated person with a marathon mind frame. This reality just smacks of a necessary level of maturity. Second, the Bible says it is not good for a MAN to be alone. If a man doesn't know he is a man, how can he know he ought to have a wife?
My man, should I find him, should know he is a wild stallion I'm in no way trying to tame. My spirit is as adventurous as anyone else's. But he has to know I need him to be strong enough to lead me, not be lead by the nose. No woman, who wants to be with a man for the right reasons, wants a pet or a surrogate child.
It's an awesome thing, to see a real man. As a woman I have to be honest. And yes, I have my green and provincial moments even-still, but for the man who would be there to be just that and protect me, not coddle me, wow is that attractive, alluring and desirable. Go be men, gentlemen. Trust and believe that no amount of toys, awards, bragging, notches in your belt or other status measurement will make up for the lack of it in your own heart.
How could I, a woman, possibly know that? The young man whom I called a man, presumably for the first remember-able time in his life just last week, we'll use his example. I've heard him talk about his work in architecture, his car, his women of yore, and his recent totally braggable business trip to London. None of those stories have ever carried the kind of countenance, posture and aura that my calling him a man in that fleeting moment did so richly deliver.
Don't leave us gals wondering where the men like our fathers have gone. As we women are beseeched by you men to embrace our qualities, our feminine wiles if you will, we ask the same in reverse. Not so much the "Me Tarzan, you Jane, " archetype, rather a real man. Simply a real man who knows he is a man, and seeks to use all the best parts of what he learned in his life as a boy, young man, fellow, and guy to be the best version of himself. Words don't do justice how magnificent it is to see and be in the company of men such as these.
The word "guy" bothers me. It has all the appeal and polish of Betty Rizzo or Frenchy from Grease calling their paramours "fellas." Well any male can act the part of a guy or a fella. But a real man...who can find him?
As I reclined with this gentleman, I remarked that I enjoyed his company because, though I knew a lot of guys, it was nice to be in the company of a man for a change. Bemused, he mulled the thought over in his head. When I asked him about his quizzical countenance, he remarked that he looked the way he did because, in truth he'd didn't know if anyone had ever referred to him as a man before. It was rather precious, I must say, in one respect. His comportment looked a little like a young boy with a superman cape on in front of a mirror, posturing to admire his new-found manly stature. But on the other hand, it was disconcerting in the extreme to believe that a twenty-eight year old man could not recollect ever having been called a MAN before that moment.
When do we become adults anyway....??? I suppose that in practice we become adults when we move out of mummy and dadums' nest, get a job, buy a car, pay taxes...all that rot. But to be honest, I have friends and acquaintances in their forties doing all that who act like teenagers, are unmarried, and some, sadly, still live with mum and dad.
I suppose because my generation has been made to pack so much "have-to" responsibility into 23 years or less, we just assume we're doing what all the other kids on the block are doing and we lose track of time altogether. Meanwhile, we get to my age...late twenties...and suddenly we want to have some fun. We've earned degrees, won and lost at love and work, moved out and in and out of different place. It's all so "normal." We're young people, young adults. But men? Women?
Anne Shirley, a character I quote often, arrived at her first big job far from home, better than prepared professionally to succeed. But upon meeting her mentor Miss Stacey at the train station she confessed that had Miss Stacey not been there she'd have sat right down and cried because she felt completely green, provincial and only ten-years-old. Now, Anne's character was only 17 at the time, but in the 1910's, 17 was an age by which time a lady was already a career woman or married and keeping house. Certainly I'm not suggesting I'd rather have married my high school sweetheart and been saddled with a half dozen offspring by now, but I think that the heart of the matter is that people in that time were compelled to be adults, women and men, at a much earlier age and given much less leeway to meander about aimlessly under the guise of "finding themselves."
As a Christian woman, there are a lot of expectations that I and my cultural niche have of me. As such, there are certain expectations I have of any potentially serious beau. Chatting with my former roommate Francie of late, I confessed I was all for being the traditional Proverbs 31 and Titus 2 woman, as per what the Bible says a good, godly-wife and woman should be. The problem I have with our present society is that, if it mandates, in my case, for we females to be women who live up to lofty and good ideals such as what is in Proverbs and the book of Titus, then, for the love of GOD (literally) we're gonna need some 1 Corinthians men.
Men need to know they are men. We want you rugged, reserved, wild at heart, your eyes on God, and fully aware that you are MEN MEN MEN not guys, fellas and heaven forbid, boys. We want you to know that we women are not here to "tie you down," burden you, nag you or strangle your dreams. As I said to my Aunt Maria only yesterday, "Heck if he wants to run around the world ten times a year, I'll run with him!"
I suppose our culture has painted the portrait of monogamy, marriage and relationships as that which suffocates dreams. And as such, it must be difficult to, as a male, see yourself as a man versus a young man, fella or guy. I say this for two reasons. The first it that, at times, it is no picnic being someones spouse unless you are a committed, go-getter, goal-orientated person with a marathon mind frame. This reality just smacks of a necessary level of maturity. Second, the Bible says it is not good for a MAN to be alone. If a man doesn't know he is a man, how can he know he ought to have a wife?
My man, should I find him, should know he is a wild stallion I'm in no way trying to tame. My spirit is as adventurous as anyone else's. But he has to know I need him to be strong enough to lead me, not be lead by the nose. No woman, who wants to be with a man for the right reasons, wants a pet or a surrogate child.
It's an awesome thing, to see a real man. As a woman I have to be honest. And yes, I have my green and provincial moments even-still, but for the man who would be there to be just that and protect me, not coddle me, wow is that attractive, alluring and desirable. Go be men, gentlemen. Trust and believe that no amount of toys, awards, bragging, notches in your belt or other status measurement will make up for the lack of it in your own heart.
How could I, a woman, possibly know that? The young man whom I called a man, presumably for the first remember-able time in his life just last week, we'll use his example. I've heard him talk about his work in architecture, his car, his women of yore, and his recent totally braggable business trip to London. None of those stories have ever carried the kind of countenance, posture and aura that my calling him a man in that fleeting moment did so richly deliver.
Don't leave us gals wondering where the men like our fathers have gone. As we women are beseeched by you men to embrace our qualities, our feminine wiles if you will, we ask the same in reverse. Not so much the "Me Tarzan, you Jane, " archetype, rather a real man. Simply a real man who knows he is a man, and seeks to use all the best parts of what he learned in his life as a boy, young man, fellow, and guy to be the best version of himself. Words don't do justice how magnificent it is to see and be in the company of men such as these.
posted by Odessa78 | 6:35 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home