I’m 32, independent, accomplished, in shape, and considered pretty. I’d love to find a boyfriend, but I don’t NEED a boyfriend. A friend set me up with this guy -- brilliant, sexy, successful, and athletic (a former Big Ten college quarterback). We had a really fun, romantic date, and he said he'd call, but never did. Months later, he spotted me at a restaurant and sat down. We again had an amazing time, and obvious chemistry, and he again promised he’d call. Nope, just more accidental lunch dates! Worrying it was turning irreversibly platonic, I e-mailed him, “Why don't you ask me on a real date, and we can kiss at the end?” He replied that I had “courage” to say that, but he couldn’t get involved because he was afraid of getting hurt after his last relationship, and “who knows, maybe [he’s] gay.” “Maybe I’m gay” as a substitute for calling?! What gives?
--Led Balloon
Just when you least expect it, a man’s man turns out to be a bunny’s bunny. It’s like watching Clint Eastwood, all “Go ahead, make my day,” suddenly holster his piece, pull out a ball of yarn, plop down cross-legged, and start crocheting a potholder.
You don’t sound like the kind of girl who sits by the unrung phone speculating whether the guy’s in a coma, or…maybe, instead of raining cats and dogs, it rained farm implements, and a large scythe fell from the sky, severing his fingers and rendering him incapable of dialing. Assuming you aren’t reading “fun,” “romantic,” and “obvious chemistry” into a failure by your date to chisel out of the men’s room to freedom, it’s understandable you expected him to call. Understandable, but unwise.
Should you ever believe it when some date says he’ll call? Sure -- just wait until the phone rings and he’s on the other end. Until then, consider “I’ll call you” spoken-word parsley: conversational garnish meant to be discarded along with the fingertip you find in your mashed potatoes. Remember, it’s a lot easier to say than “You know, I’m kind of a toxic fellow, who really should blow you off after date one. But, chances are, I’ll lead you on for six months, giving you the impression I’m a viable candidate for a relationship, and, in the process, tear your ego into small pieces and feed it to the pigeons.”
Guys like this are to strong women what Attila and the Huns were to Western Europe. They don’t have what it takes to put out emotionally, but they camouflage it the best they can -- stringing you along and pulling away at the same time. Dalma Heyn writes about them in Drama Kings: The Men Who Drive Strong Women Crazy. What makes a “Drama King” seem attractive, Heyn says, is also what makes him poison: “…[H]is boyish charm is really arrested development…his refreshing laid-backness a lack of feeling and an inability to connect,” and his manly man front an “impenetrable wall.” And you’ll never guess who’s been cast as Humpty Dumpty.
The next time you come up against some quarterback who can’t make a pass, avoid any temptation to pull your girlfriends out of the workplace for long, teary afternoons of man-analysis. Not only is it a waste of time, if enough women do this, it could lead to a downturn in the GNP. Why a guy didn’t call isn’t the point. It’s recognizing that he didn’t. Repeatedly. Heartlessly. And reminding yourself that a woman who isn’t desperate for “You complete me” isn’t doing herself any favors chasing after “You deplete me” on all fours.
June 21, 2006My 43-year-old boyfriend is sweet, caring, and somebody I believe I can trust. During our year together, he's mentioned his boss' 22-year-old daughter from time to time. Granted, he’s a "talker," sometimes telling me more than I want to know, but he remarked on shoes she wore one day, and acknowledged he knows her birthday. Now she's asked him to take her for a ride on his motorcycle sometime. He told her he would, and I'm a little leery about this, and let him know. Do you think I'm being overly possessive and jealous?
--Backseat Driver
Jealousy is nature's car alarm. Sometimes car alarms go off for a good reason; sometimes it's just a really big crow pooping on your hood.
Whether this girl is only teasing or trying to jack your man, it's okay to be uncomfortable with a 22-year-old with cute shoes clinging for dear life to your boyfriend and squealing girlishly as they take the curves. While your boyfriend may have the best of intentions (plus, maybe, an impaired ability to say no), surely he'd have an easier time winding his way there if the rideshare request came from Sloppy Bob from shipping. There's nothing the average straight guy lives for like the opportunity to say, "Yo, Bob, just grab me around the waist, press that paunch of yours into the small of my back, and we're off!"
It is possible a motorcyle ride could lead to something -- decapitation, for example. How you deal with the motorcycle ride could also lead to something. There are two kinds of women in the relationship world: "The Girlfriend" and "The Enemy." The quickest way to go from G to E is to cajole the truth out of a guy, then grab it in your hands like a club and beat him senseless. In other words, it’s a bad idea to punish your boyfriend just because some girl asked for a ride, he said yes, and was honest about it -- "honest" perhaps being a euphemism for "less in need of truth serum than shut-up serum."
Yes doesn't always mean yes, but along with "Sure thing!" "Certainly!" and "Bend over how far?" it's an answer commonly given when the boss' daughter asks for a favor. Your boyfriend may have no intention of following through -- if he's even given it a second thought. So, why risk giving you the impression he's being chased by a 22-year-old with remarkable shoes? Maybe he's clueless as to how to handle this, and is asking for input the manly-man way -- or maybe he's just bragging.
People say you can't change men. They're wrong. The minute you realize you're dating a dud, you can change men immediately. But, once you hit the one-year mark, you've got what you've got. Either your boyfriend's trustworthy or he isn't. Avoid any temptation to tell him he'd better not have any freshly-minted breasts pressed up against the back of his motorcycle jacket. The worst way to get anything from a man is to demand it. Assuming he's a good guy, just let him know he makes you happy -- in general, and whenever he does something right. Then, on the rare occasion he makes you not-so-happy, you can probably just hint, say, that the lunchtime Lolita rides aren't the highlight of your bliss, and trust him to do the right thing. You still might spot him taking her for a spin around the block on the old Harley. You're just unlikely to see it parked afterward at a pay-by-the-hour motel.
Is it really bad for straight men to wear thongs? If women don’t like men in thongs, why do they go see them at strip clubs? I’m not “metrosexual”; I just like wearing a thong because it doesn’t bind around my thighs, bag up, or get all stretched out at the waist. Women wear men's boxers, what's the deal?
--Average Joe
If you really want to know discomfort, bend over on a first date and let a woman see a thong peeking out the back of your Levis. She’ll be out of there faster than you can say “my boyfriend Sven.”
Life is not one big equality fest. If a man flashes a woman, she’ll probably call the police. If a woman flashes a man, he’ll probably call Tom Leykis -- the syndicated radio jock who rallies young hotties to hike their shirts for male drivers with their headlights on. There are countless nudie magazines for men, and even a nudie home, the Playboy Mansion. While there is Playgirl magazine for women, there’s no Playgirl Mansion; not even a Playgirl guest house to entertain loyal subscribers -- girls with names like Dirk, Buck, and “The Hairy Pirate.”
Women, for the most part, don’t go to strip clubs to see men in thongs, they go to strip clubs to laugh at men in thongs. Flipping the bird at convention is part of it, but sociologist Beth Montemurro, who watched women watching men strip, said women’s motivation is mostly about “having a shared experience” with their friends; you know, like yesterday’s Tupperware party -- except the headliner isn’t a lady in an apron but a ripped gay guy in a gladiator skirt.
No, women aren’t repressed, just different from men. Men have a more visually based sexuality, so they can get physically aroused from pictures alone -- or just from watching a girl wearing three bandaids and a firehat sliding down a greased pole. Most women, on the other hand, need touch, emotional connection, and bit of back-story. They get turned on looking into the eyes of a fully clothed firefighter -- and grossed out by men in tight pants or Speedos, or those who wrap their package in anything silk, satin, leopard, or thong.
Regarding your comfort complaints, keep in mind that underpants, unlike luggage, do not come with a lifetime guarantee. Toss those that have been with you since junior high. Go to a high-end department store, and ask a salesperson to point you toward full-coverage that fits. You just might do a little better than if you’re grabbing them three-to-a-pack at Rite-Aid.
Sure, there are a few girls who don’t mind or even prefer a man in a thong. Very, very few. Of the 50 or so women I polled this weekend, most said stuff like this:
Nancy: “There is one scenario where this would be okay: He's just had, at the same time, a testicular operation that requires they be strapped tight at all times AND treatment for third-degree burns on his behind, meaning, it cannot be covered in fabric. But, he’d better have some salve and gauze back there!”
Kate: “EUWWWWWWW. I can't even go there on how creepy this is. Commando, fine. Boxers, sure. Tighty-whities, if you must. Pouches, thongs, dance belts, G-strings -- not in my lifetime!”
The consensus was best summed up by my friend Leah: “Any guy who can tolerate a strand of elastic between his buttocks for long periods of time is not straight. However, he can head straight…to West Hollywood. Don't forget the chaps!”
I’ve been friends with a woman for five years. She had a boyfriend when we met, but they split two years ago. Due to a lack of confidence, I never formally asked her out, but I wanted to. Recently, another friend of hers made moves on her, and I realized I’d blown it. They’ve stopped dating, but it seems I’m not an option because she no longer returns my calls. Now, I lack the confidence even to try and contact her. Is there anything I can do?
--Waiting On A Friend
Oh, the trials and tribulations of the imaginary romance. You’ve spent five years of your life with this woman -- but only in your head. Of course you lack the confidence to contact her now. What are you going to say, that during imaginary sex with her, it’s possible you gave her an imaginary STD?
When you’re 5, imaginary friends keep you from being lonely. When you’re 25, they keep you from having a life. At the moment, you’re well on your way to becoming that 50-something guy on my boyfriend’s block who’s always sputtering that he'll never be one of those chumps who pays for everything on a date. No, he won’t, because he’s unlikely to ever have one, since he’s too socially constipated to speak to any woman who isn’t a clerk at 7-11 selling him beer. Of course, there’s always that chance a lost hooker will get a flat on his street, see the light in his parents’ garage where he lives, and offer him a freebie in exchange for putting on her spare.
Like this guy, you probably work hard to avoid acknowledging the existence of the weenie within; perhaps by clinging to helpful, action-stopping mantras like “good things come to those who wait.” Sure, they do -- if your idea of a “good thing” is the bus. No, women don’t make it easy for men. Just decades back, they’d flirt to signal to men that they could ask them out without being rejected or maced. These days, women often make it a complete mystery, or seem to be signaling at everybody at all times -- stopping just short of making lingering eye contact with a fire hydrant.
How can you know for sure that a woman wants you? You can’t. If you want a woman, ask her out. If she says no, gather up the remains of your ego, glue them back together, and ask somebody else. Had you done this when this woman came back on the market, you’d either be dating her or you’d have moved on to become a real friend. Instead, you were the friend version of the “funny uncle,” pretending you had platonic intentions while secretly festering with lust.
Think about what fun this must have been for her, always being on guard against those hugs that go on a little too long. What a surprise that she isn’t scampering back for more. In the future, categorize women when you meet them: “potential sex partner,” “probable friend,” or “not a chance.” Should a “potential sex partner” have a boyfriend, flirt subtly to tell her you’d be into her (if she’d just ditch the bum). In the meantime, avoid getting too chummy, listening to her boyfriend problems, or otherwise being “like a brother” to her, as it’s unlikely to catapult you into a relationship or her bed. Of course, it should leave you ample time to ponder important public health issues; say, whether having imaginary sex with somebody means you’re really having imaginary sex with everybody they’ve ever had sex with, real or imagined.