The Wife just posted about her Man-Hating ways, and when I first read it, I thought, “hmm. Good thing she found such a great guy.” And moved on with my life.
I had a thought.
“Hey! I’m a man-hater too!”
TOTAL Man Hater is more like it.
Mikeal and I have a joke.
It goes like this.
Him: “Hey, what did you think of that guy we just hung out with? Oh, yeah, he’s a guy. You hate him.”
One of my earliest memories is of me in my Gramma’s house with a whole bunch of people sitting around talking. I remember looking at a bunch of knees, that’s how short I was. I made my way over to what I thought was a familiar set of knees, and put my hands on them, to get their owner’s attention. It was then that I looked up into the face of the scariest thing I had ever seen: a strange MAN with curly red hair. I freaked out and was eventually consoled by the person who owned the knees I was seeking: my Mom’s.
It’s not that there weren’t good male role models in my life. My Dad, for one. Always kind to me. He wasn’t exactly THERE so much though. He worked a lot of nights, Mom didn’t give him much opportunity to parent, and he wasn’t really into affection. Three strikes.
Grampa was great. Big, loving, fun, but always went out to putter in the yard when the women-folk got together.
Big brother, well, he did his thing too. Scared the pants off of me at every opportunity, or was doing something completely gross to me, or something hateful to my dolls. He still intimidates me. Big.
I would go to play at a friends house, but as soon as The Dad came home, I was out. Especially the loud, boisterous Dads. No way.
It didn’t help that as I grew up that the only boys who were nice to me eventually became mean, or wanted to kiss me. This is a trend that has pretty much followed me throughout life. Jr. High was horrendous. Can’t play team sports to this day because the boys were so mean to me when I didn’t play right, which was always.
I developed a following of boys that each took their turn “liking” me. Eventually in High School, I became really good friends with them, and we spent a lot of time together. I always used the fact that they thought I was pretty amazing to propel my self confidence. When they all began to move on from the Mandi Fan Club, I was devastated. I became manipulative to try to get back their attention. I think this is when I began to play the games.
Guys became playthings to me. I knew that the only thing they really wanted was exactly the thing that I wasn’t going to give them. So, in order to get what I wanted, (attention, free dinner,) I would play along just enough until one of us got tired and moved on. Most of the time, it worked.
Then I met Mikeal.
I knew he was interested in me, but he wouldn’t respond to any of my game playing. I was so confused. I didn’t realize that I was playing games, I was just engaging in a relationship the only way I knew how. Give and take, tease and run.
I would run, but he wouldn’t follow. But instead of him turning and walking away like the rest of them had, he stood where I left him- ready to take me when I was done with the charade.
I tried to act nonchalant. I tried to pout. I tried to bat my eyelashes.
The only thing that worked was me being myself. (and my short skirts. if there is a single straight trait in him, it is his appreciation of a good set of legs.)
Little did I know that he was the man who would capture my heart. It frustrated me to no end that I couldn’t manipulate the relationship to suit my needs, but pretty soon, to my utter astonishment, I was completely in love. “Endearing” is the word I used to describe Mikeal to others. There is just this genuine GOODness about him, that makes one want to get cozy and chat. I don’t know that it is the gay that causes him to be this way, but I think it must have some sort of influence. Women love him. I don’t blame them.
To this day, many men (the straight ones) have sufficiently confirmed every one of my suspicions that they are not trustworthy. It is shockingly sad to have grown men stare at my boobs. (yes, I’ve got a nice rack, but COME ON!)
Which brings me to the crowd that reads this blog: the gay guys.
Even though many men have been mean, overly sexual, or flat out creepy, I still find myself very comfortable in their presence. I like to have conversations with guys. I like to hang out with guys. I get along well with guys. So take a guy, remove the creepy sexual predator, and you have the perfect friend! However, it is really impossible to work a crowd of gay guys. There is that element of awe that is missing, which puts me at a distinct disadvantage. (case in point: scott & sarah’s moho party last month that I attended. I had to completely change my game. “party” me was NOT happening!!! )
So? What do I do? I mistrust men, but I love them.
Do I really need to do anything? Or is this observation sufficient?
I feel like there is more that needs to be explored, but my eyes are glazing over, and 5:45am will be upon me shortly.
I’m off to my rather large bed, with the new headboard and bedding that my fabulously gay husband picked out. (yes, I had input, but he’s got ALL of the taste.)