Men

It never ceases to amaze me when grown men start the exploration of the female species in search of a relationship.

It's rather endearing to watch you change your tone of voice, your inflections in speech, watch how you dress differently and mind your mannerisms.  Sometimes, it's in such vast contrast that it becomes shocking and alluring all at the same time.

Now here's where you really get interesting.  It's when you want to have a "conversation".  Most men I know have little conversation.  It's not that they don't talk, they just don't talk THAT MUCH.  But, it's ok-- because it's all part of the exploration.  You're appealing to a woman's ears, which connect to her heart.  I can appreciate that.

Four hours later, after maybe a plate of this or that, a cocktail or two-- the conversation ends.  

"Shall we do this again?"- you ask... which must mean you have some level of interest, otherwise why keep talking right?

The next meeting is more for show.  You have deciphered the female, you now know what it is you want to show her.  You go into "Peacock Mode"- and even bring out the heavy artillery.  Cigars.  Twelve-Year Old Whiskey. Old stories or photos that show how you once were. Your Perfectly Pressed Dress Shirt-- all in the name of showing her that you listened all along and here you were in the flesh.

Here's the problem.

She liked you anyway.  All of that never really mattered.  And in the next four hours that commence, you begin to wonder if you made a mistake.  She is far deeper than you imagined, and even all the cigar smoke, whiskey, pictures and starch can't quite cut it.

This time as the conversation gets deeper, you may begin to understand what she is really saying. If you didn't, here's some help.

All the accessories weren't required.  If she invested the time, you're worth it.  

You didn't need to smoke that cigar, or drink the whiskey.  

You're investment of the first four hours were plenty.  

She liked you when you were having all that conversation, when you were your true self and appreciated her the same.

You finish the night and part ways.  "We will see each other very soon...", you say.

Even after all that, the ball is in your court. 

She is still waiting for you to call, and even when you don't call then-- she might still be waiting after all those years.

Trust your "Hunter Mode" fellas... You had her at hello.

The Faceless Man

For the past couple of weeks, I have been having these incessant dreams about a man (I know, rough dreams, right?) whose face I cannot see.

Now, if the dream was racy enough- would it really matter (joking, just joking), but the part that peaks my interest really lies in the traits of this man and what I am discovering about myself.

For a very long time, I prided myself in being a young, professional, independent woman.  My mother was severely co-dependent on men in her life who took care of her, and it became increasingly difficult as her circumstances change later in life.

Well, I was going to show her, or them- or me... I was going to show someone that I didn't need a man to take care of me, or do anything for me.  I was going to do it all myself.

The plan worked out splendidly for a bit.  I moved away from the small town that was too familiar to me.  I worked hard, networked, talked, canoodled, and shoved  my way into jobs and social circles that allowed me to continue my climb towards self sufficiency.  My mother even apologized to me at one point for not believing in my ability to get it done.  What?  It proved that I was on the right path, right?

Yet in 2004, after my Grandfather died on Valentine's Day, I looked around and wondered who was there for me.

Now, I wasn't on the prowl.  I wasn't seeking anything in particular.  In fact, the guy I had been seeing (I say "seeing" because I wasn't into making a committment, or rather I was afraid of it...) and I had this long conversation about being there for each other, but I didn't want him.  I guess I just wanted the idea of him or to know that someone was around.  Maybe I should have adopted a pet instead, because I was really looking for a companion.

Now, in my climb to the top (my "top", not the TOP) there were plenty of casualties along the way.  People who wanted to take care of me or be nice to me, yet I was too focused to merely acknowledge the basic beauty of what that all was about.  I came to a point where the companionship became more important than the companion.

Enter the Toxic Relationship.

So, for the sake of this entry, I wont go into the long drawn out explanation of that relationship because it needs an entry to itself.  But know this, it was not by any means the relationship I needed or wanted.

It was what society wanted.  It was what my mother wanted.  It was what he wanted- but never what I wanted.

As the Faceless Man enters my dreams more frequently.  He continues to show me again and again what I forgot about what was important to me.  His qualities, his worldliness- the overall  ambitiousness of his nature is more of a turn on than just his looks.

That is the most interesting part right? I guess it's not what he looks like.  It's what has finally become acceptable to me.  It's who I really needed all along.