« Mad Lib Results | Main | Love Language Lessons »
February 07, 2003
Girl Meets Guy
Another in the ongoing series of Ryan trying to heal society's ills—continuing with the Valentine's Day theme....
Why do men bother being nice to women?
I?ve been giving this a lot of thought. I am not advocating outward malice and hatred towards the 'kinder sex', but I'm left at certain points wondering why I work so hard at not being the inherent jackass I can be when the rest of the male population seems to be working their damndest at making women feel like crap on a seeming daily basis.
(The Commander doesn't count. Tim's rules of engagement would make a male character from a Jane Austin novel say, "Hell, I just suck at this chivalry thing, don't I"?)
Since I can remember, I haven’t been what you’d call a ladies man by any stretch of your most vivid imagination. I still wake up some days, look at Jenny, and go, ‘Now, you’re sure you didn’t make some mistake, right’’ Just hard to believe. I have, however, always had a bevy of female friends. This is both a boon and a curse. On one hand, yes, I should feel happy that women find me safe enough to be friends with and trust me enough to spill their guts. On the other hands, it’s the social equivalent of a strip club---you’re basically getting blue-balled on a daily basis. At least in the real world I didn’t need to drop $20 for every time a girl came bawling to me. I’d be in even more dire financial straits than I currently am.
I was the shoulder to cry on, not the lap to sit on. That’s the best way to put it.
Over the years, I’ve had approximately 3,476 conversations that go something like this:
Me: What’s wrong?
Her: (weepy eyed) Oh, it’s Ted/Mark/Jim/Oswana/Friedlich again.
Me: Oh, what did he do this time’
Her: Well, I invited him to my parents’ house for dinner, he got really drunk, and took a dump on the mashed potatoes.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry baby. Oh, and just take this sweatshirt I'm wearing, I’m not sure the snot stains are going to come out.
Her: What should I dooooooooo, Ryan’
Me: Is this the same guy who you caught broadcasting your sexcapades on the Internet through a hidden camera’
She: Uh huh.
Me: And keeps uttering the phrase, ‘Shame about your rack’’
She: Yup.
Me: Well, this might be a stretch, but you should think about maybe breaking up with him.
She: But’but I can’t do that. He’s really a nice guy underneath it all.
Me: He calls you ‘Countess Skankula’ behind your back.
She: I know.
Me: And to your face. I was there. So was the hockey team.
She: But, but…you shouldn't say such mean things about him. He’s really a lot nicer than I make him out to be.
The rule I have now is this---I listen about three or four times, and then, at the start of the fifth iteration, I cut them off. I don’t mean to be cruel, but it’s like communism: if they’re set in their beliefs, ain’t no free-trade arguments gonna work.
So now, I listen, but I no longer get emotionally immersed in the situation. Just not worth my time. I can’t tell you the number of times I have lost friendships with girls because they came crying to me, I told them what a jerk their boyfriends were, and 2 weeks later, when the two of them patched things up, I was in the doghouse.
Again, the shoulder to cry on, not the lap to sit on.
Around Senior Year of college, I got fed up with it, and, since I was already on a doozy of a mental breakdown, decided to simply become that which I loathed---the ‘GUY’. Not a man, mind you, because very few guys are men. Important distinction. So what happened’ I had to set up one of those deli line counters outside of my room. Completely insane. Didn’t call the girl the next day’ I got three emails and two phone calls. Got caught on another date’ Just meant the next night I was with someone else. I was living the high life.
And utterly miserable.
Just wasn’t me. Didn’t have the heart. The lap was of course willing. ‘C’mon, McGee, don’t wimp out on us now, we’ve been waiting years for this!’ But Saturday night euphoria was replaced by Sunday morning nausea.
So here I am, seven years or so later, and the patterns still continue. You’d think age would cure either men’s cruelty/stupidity or women’s naiveté/stupidity, but no, life has a weird way of freezing right around junior high, adding only Prada bags, facial hair, and 401(k)s to the equation.
I mean, look at the legions of Spike followers. Spike is a vampire on ‘Buffy’ who not only has killed hundreds of people, but has repeatedly tried to kill Buffy, even tried to rape her last year, and yet women (including Buffy herself) get all tingly every time they see him. Yes, he’s a fictional character, but so is Michael Jackson for all intents and purposes, so why does Spike get a ‘Get Out of Jail, You Hot Sexy Beast’ card and Whacko Jacko doesn’t? OK, don’t answer that. Point is, Spike is a good example of the type of guy, the kind who will hurt and hurt a girl to the point that any shred of basic common human decency is elevated to epic goodness, by their sheer inability to do it on a regular basis. These women are so used to being treated like dirt that when a guy offers to take her out to dinner, she’s so stunned that she deludes herself, putting the rest of his actions in the ‘unfortunate but fixable’ category when they should go in the ‘inexcusable and damnit I’m gonna shove his ass to the sidewalk’ category.
Point being, whether at 15, 25, 35, the ‘bad boy who needs the rehabilitation of a sweet caring girl like me’ will always be a social phenomenon. There’s no fighting it. There’s certainly no arguing with it. God knows I’ve tried. Ranting and railing has done neither myself nor society a lick of good. It doesn’t mean I am unsympathetic towards women being hurt by men like this anymore, but it does mean I need to save a little bit of mental and emotional energy for myself and my consistent attempts to make sure I treat Jenny as little like this as possible.
Posted by Ryan McGee at February 7, 2003 10:17 AM
Comments
which she appreciates, i have to say. but seriously, the problem is that women are socialized to accept that men treat us like shit and we're meant to take it, and it's pretty hard to undo centuries of that socialization. for an analysis of post WWII socialization to accept being shat-upon "pink think" by lynn peril is a really great book. i highly recommend it.
Posted by: jenny at February 7, 2003 10:37 AM
I've given up trying to figure this out. It's the Bobby Brown syndrome -- sure, Whitney now weighs 75 lbs, is the laughing stock of the country, has no career, seems to have no self esteem and is hepped up on so many goofballs that she's starting to sound like Carl Everett writes her material. But you can't even suggest that maybe Bobby's not such the good influence on her.
Frankly, it just makes me depressed (not Whitney in specific, but the situation in general.)
Posted by: Commander Foley at February 7, 2003 10:56 AM
The bad boys may get laid more, but the good boys are the one who end up with happier lives. I really and truly believe this. So what if you were miserable as an adolescent? Everybody was miserable as an adolescent, even the guys who were getting laid, you were just blind to it because you were so envious. A Jenny in the hand is worth more than a senior-yearful of girls in the bush. (ooh. I'm afraid I just pictured that.)
Posted by: Gili at February 7, 2003 11:48 AM
If the whole phenomenon stopped once you hit 20, this wouldn't be so much of an issue. And yes, once you're IN a relationship, the nice guy stuff benefits you, I'd like to think.
However, 1) this crap doesn't stop after high school, and 2) there are many times where being lazy and mean and not working at a relationship still yields you, as the lazy guy, the same rewards as the nice guys.
Girls either generally don't make us work hard enough for our just rewards or are so inured to being treated like crap that they put up with it anyways.
Posted by: ryan at February 7, 2003 11:53 AM
I know way too many girls with crappy self-esteem. What's the deal with that? I wish they'd realize they deserve to be treated better.
Nice guys do win, sometimes, Ryan. I'm with a very nice guy. I love him to death. He treats me with respect. He's caring, funny, sweet, loving. Everyone seems to love him. We work on our relationship together (most of the time - we all have our off days). We have a terrific time together, too.
Here's the question: Why are we the exception instead of the norm?
It's crazy. Why do so many people get stuck in adolescence?
Becky
Posted by: Cyberangel at February 7, 2003 05:14 PM
Becky, I'm with you on the self esteem thing. My self image was completely trashed by some guys I dated in college (and it was awful to begin with). When this odd guy started persuing me and opening doors and filling my gas tank up with gas (whithout me asking) and buying me flowers and telling me I was pretty and whatnot, I actually tried to BREAK UP with him because I was so used to being treated like crap. It felt so foreign to be treated with respect, it actually felt WRONG.
Well, I finally wised up and married the nice guy. I'm glad he stuck it out.
Aw, I ought to go hug him or something, huh?
Posted by: Ellie at February 7, 2003 08:42 PM
umm... What are the Commander's rules of engagement? did I miss that somewhere?
Also, women are often taught to be nuturers. It's (supposedly) romantic, being that one person who can heal/save/reform that misunderstood lost soul.
Posted by: sachie at February 7, 2003 08:59 PM
Never been treated like "crap" and never intend to be treated that way. If there isn't basic human respect instilled in a person it is pretty obvious right from the start - though "charming like a snake" jumps into my mind for some reason.
I agree that Self-esteem is at issue here - nothing kills it better than knowing that we made a wrong choice - and this leads to loss of self-confidence in the choices we make in all aspects of life, not just with men. If we can't pick a boyfriend, how can we trust ourselves to pick a career, friend, car, home?? A great big ever growing snowball has formed. And the next time we choose a man wrongly... wow - look out below!! And it usually isn't even our fault that things don't work out... we can't be responsible for someone else's expectations. And the fact that the other someone can't take responsibility for his/her own behaviour is not in any way our responsibility... The men need to figure out that the grass isn't always greener in the next yard...If you've chosen someone to be with - you have to stop looking at each woman who walks past as a potential mate...
And last but most certainly not least... "If we place pornography and the tyranny of slenderness alongside one another we have the two most significant obsessions of our culture, and both of them focused upon a woman's body." -Kim Chernin
Self-esteem is greatly enmeshed in body image these days. What is presented by the omniscient (ha!) media tends to overpower the intellect of most men (and women). Women who had meat on their bones used to be attractive (think Marilyn Monroe - who was a fabulous size 14). Then along came Twiggy - who was used as a model simply because a hanger couldn't walk down a runway. Believe it - if designers could use hangers they would - they show better "lines". About face! Unhealthy and unnaturally thin became the rule of thumb. Now men want a combination of the two... Twiggy hips with Marilyn breasts... Can we say "not natural" for about 90% of the female population? Healthy lifestyle, which includes healthy eating habits, exercise, reasonably satisfying work, socialisation, and the admiration of friends and loved ones... This should be the pattern of our lives - is it really that much of a fantasy? Unobtainable? It shouldn't be...
Nurturers - not really the case here - more the "need to be needed" - which men and women possess in equal amounts. Or should we call this "better the devil you know"?
As to the Spike issue - in what way can you possibly compare him and Michael Jackson? Are you looking at the fact that one is fictional and the other has fictionalised himself to the point where he can't tell the plastic on his face from the flesh? And names his children the same name (I mean come on! Prince Michael 1 and 2? Having visions of George Foreman here!) All I can say to his defence is - Spike has an amazing British accent - don't you get a little bit of a thrill from hearing the foreign in the voice of sayyy... Elisabeth Hurley? There is no defence of whacko Jacko...
Posted by: trish at February 8, 2003 03:54 AM
Ryan-dude: you've hit the nail on the head with this one.
As you know from reading my currently-being-dismantled-and-shifted-elsewhere blog, I just got out--three months ago, but still a fresh wound--of a relationship that did a lot of damage to my self-esteem.
It is, I think, a variation of what you've discussed.
Now, I am going to really work on my self-esteem and my self-worth before giving it another go in another relationship because I had allowed myself to be emotionally abused in my last two long relationships which also means that I feel terminally ill-equipped to tell the genuine nice guys from the fake ones.
I'm going to break that pattern. It'll just take a little while, a lot of work and supportive friends.
My godmother has the easiest solution though: don't date or marry. Period.
Heh... I should add: not when you're not ready and not when you're not the type to do so.
Posted by: glovefox at February 8, 2003 04:15 AM
Being a nice guy is great, if you don't mind sloppy seconds. By the time you get to her we'll all have had her. And in ways you never will.
Posted by: wntr at February 8, 2003 09:16 AM
wntr, i'm gonna chalk that up to sarcasm.
Trish, I'd say the tiggy-with-tits isn't really want a lot of men want. May be aesthetically pleasing, but it's on a piece of paper, or a runway---it's no more real than a cartoon. Least to me.
The best (worst) are guys with big guts making their GFs eat salad. That always kills me.
Posted by: ryan at February 8, 2003 10:52 AM
Oh my goodness YES Ryan!!! Guy I dated a couple of times tried to order for me...
"I'll have the ribs with a side of onion rings, gravy and finish with the pie... She'll have the small spinach salad with oil and vinegar on the side... no wait - forget the oil and vinegar...you girls don't need the extra fat do you honey? Hardy Har Har!" After a recovery moment, I just said - "Thanks, but on second thought - forget the salad!" And ordered the chateau briand with truffle sauce, lobster bisque to start, and the cesar salad! Oh, and a strawberry marguarita...
And of course there were the three "light" beers he ordered! Ha Ha Ha!
Mind he didn't have a big gut back then, but you could see that shadow behind him... you know - like in the movie "shallow hal"??
Posted by: trish at February 8, 2003 08:41 PM