Tag: Men

Humanity

Masculine and manly.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I don’t know if you know this about me, but one of my side gigs is that I write romance novels. Basically, once a month I crank out a page-turner. Well, maybe every other month at this point.

I wink, I nudge. I nod. Yes, I write them. Yes, you may have read them, if you read that sort of thing. I am a ghostwriter, so my name is not attached to the product anywhere and someone would be crushed if I gave you any identifying information, because they have built a career out of selling my words.

I’m mostly okay with that, my priority this year and last has been stable home-life available for kids. Well, lets make that the past five years. Their dad has really gotten his shit together and is more available for them now, so I can really and truly look around at what I’m doing and what I want to be doing.

One of the things in these books, that I have the most difficulty with, is the demand for men who are one-dimensional. Everytime I write something else, it gets kicked back to me.

Today’s example: My man gave and received too many hugs, and didn’t do a distanced enough, ‘thanks bro.’ because he actually just laughed, shook his head and appreciated it.

What is driving that, ladies? Why is this ‘Alpha Male’ thing still kicking around? We need a man who can protect us in a knife fight? Or throw their body down in front of a charging bull? Pay for all the dinners? Drive the nice car? Fuck us like rockstars? Make us feel like dainty princesses no matter how large marge we are? Make us feel safe despite all the evidence to the contrary?

Let’s look at the reality of our lives, shall we? The ACTUAL men who do that kind of shit? Can you talk with them? Laugh? (we must leave jason momoa out of this conversation, okay? that guy busts up my whole understanding of the universe.) I know lots of men who consider themselves Alpha, and honestly, a ‘REAL’ Alpha is absolutely not threatened by anyone, or any emotion, and is pretty confident in their own skin. (so says I.)

All this is to say, I’m crushed by the continuing need for characters that are not nuanced. WE are all SO COMPLICATED. There is nothing else. Even in a romance, isn’t a man who is complicated and charming and recognizes his feminine side and is unthreatened by challenge, isn’t THAT the guy?

Isn’t it?

Is it?

  • i don’t know, man.
  • i don’t know Man.

love love.

See what i did there?

Cracking up fondly,

kate

a funko pop toy of aquaman
YEs, the only free available image… Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

Humanity

Car dealership. Again.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

Last time I was here, they handed me the keys with the caveat, ‘if it doesn’t work the first time, just try it again.’

The dealership. The guys who are supposed to know every single thing about the make that they sell.

Sigh. They also suspected that I was turning it on wrong. The car I own, and have owned for almost ten years.

Its my boobs. My boobs are so damn distracting that men of all ages are fucking idiots and think I can’t turn on my damn car because I have breasts.

So. here I am again, same place, because you know, i need my car to turn on every time, and my mechanic insists that the keys have to be programmed by the dealer. he wouldn’t do me wrong, i’m pretty sure. he probably knows i have breasts but he might not have noticed. or, it didn’t matter that much. he certainly thinks i can start my own car.

person in grey shirt handing keys
‘ Good Luck Out There’. Photo by Negative Space on Pexels.com

I’m going to leave here today, hopefully, and buy myself some lottery tickets. One or more, and maybe some scratch tickets, because you know? You just can’t win if you don’t play the game.

also, the coffee machine here is out of order.

I SAY THAT IS OUT OF ORDER!!

love you.

(I’m working on my latest writing project in the waiting room here. only 20 K more to go. Did I tell you the whole place is under construction? It is. yes.)

really, its love, i swear.

  • kate
Humanity

These dreams are made of this.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I realized a few things today. And found a few tough to love qualities. in me, but mostly them.

  1. I have two teenaged boys living here. Two. I need to be more cognizant of what this means to them, and to me. One is deep into the ‘i’m the center of the universe’ place that teens go. He is truly lovely and caring and occasionally heart-breakingly sweet, but lives there in many of the interactions he has with his mother. (that would be me. he frequently feels attacked when i walk by. my face is very powerful, i suppose.)
  2. Many adult men that I have in my life are also myopically self-centered. It is very hard for me to handle, at this point. In some cases, they are old and too isolated. In others, they are just that way and always have been. they literally cannot have a conversation about a child without interjecting their own needs and life into it. literally. its astonishing. . . In another, they are just too high on the ADD, or ADHD, and can’t focus on a still object like myself. I get all of this. But it is deeply deeply unsatisfying. DEEPLY. It’s even hard to maintain a friendship like that. (i’m not talking about you, Indy, so stuff it.)
  3. I’m obsessed with this television show called ALONE. i just discovered it on hulu and i think its been around for awhile. It goes hand in hand with my need for a journey, and my need to understand men in some damn way. These men go out and try to survive in a wood for as long as possible. not together, each alone. they film themselves, there is no crew. they make it, or don’t. and i’m just obsessed. i know men are different, and yet i found myself in several of them, breaking out into O solo mio randomly in the alone. That’s me. right there. I’ve just seen the end of the first season, and i need to take a break and feel the deepness of the dark wood for a little bit.
  4. I love this song, it fills me with bliss. It is in Italian. I’ve been tryin to re-find it for several years. I used to be able to tell you what it all meant. but if you asked me to dance for six hours to this song on repeat, i probably could. I’m pretty sure I might be the only one, and I don’t care. O Mare Nero, by Lucia Battisti. It reminds me of a dance party I attended where we literally shook the floor of the cottage. love it or leave it. i’m good.

Four again. Stuff it. I just spent 15 minutes in my hammock outside and goddamnit, it was possibly the best fifteen of the week.

LOVE LOVE!

kate