Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Men: Am I doing it right?

Men: Am I doing it right?

I am old fashioned.  If you've ever seen me after a half dozen shots of Jameson you may disagree, so allow me to explain.  First, Slop Jones and Steph Jones, although bound by the same lanky body, are two different states of existence and this post is about the latter.  Second, I have been described as a strong woman, and strong women, as mandated by society, come carrying a whole load of predetermined characteristics  Self-aware. Determined. Proud. Honest. And then of course bitchy. Ball-busting. And bat shit crazy. Naturally, you would think that if these things were true of me that I would have no problem setting my sights and then taking what I want.  However, I am far more defenseless than that, and it is on these grounds I mean to claim myself as old-fashioned.  So when it comes to men I have little desire to be the she-wolf constantly stalking her prey, I would much prefer to be sniffed out by someone else, but lately that doesn't seem to be an option.

Let me rewind to several months ago. I reached my twenty-third birthday and realized that in the five years I had been going to bars not once had a complete stranger offered to buy me a drink.  If you'll remember I described myself as self-aware, so this revelation really wasn't startling.  Yet for a thin, smart, moderately attractive girl I am pretty far down the shitter when it comes to men.   After a brief stint on a dating website (another blog for another time), I turned to my older brother for insight on meeting men.

"hot guy at the gym. what's my move?"
"ask him if you're doing the exercise correctly"
"he's on a treadmill. 'excuse me, does this walk look right to you?'"
no thanks.

The next time I saw him I had enough balls to say hello, but having his headphones in, he walked right by.  Now for those of you that are screaming "get a clue!" at your computer, "he's not interested," you're probably correct.  Or he took a look at me, thought I was seventeen, and wasn't in the mood to get suspicious looks for engaging with a minor.  Regardless, what I'm attempting to illustrate is that of two (supposedly) interested parties, I was the one putting myself out there.  I am not afraid of rejection, if I were I wouldn't get out of the bed in the morning since even my dog refuses kisses anymore.  What I am afraid of is that the men of my generation are too lazy to put in the effort required for meeting people and maintaining relationships. Now this, I realize, is a  mass generalization, but how many "couples" out there are are based entirely on convenience?

I grew up in a household with parents who preached hard work, so although I don't want to be the girl shoving my business cards into guys' hands whilst attempting to flirt, I will continue to put forth an effort, since, frankly, I don't want my cats to eat me after I die.  I don't know who or what is to blame for the lack of work ethic in this world today, but the cloud of entitlement that hovers around 20-somethings is so thick that I don't see many other options when it comes to the pursuit of male interests.  While the laziness that I am describing here is manifested in so many different ways I could write a book, for the sake of today's blog I'm just going to stick with its relevance to my ability to get laid.  That being said, I am nostalgic for a time when hard work in one's life and profession also rubbed off onto romantic endeavors.  I am not sitting here asking for some white knight to sweep in and cook me dinner, hold doors open for me, or impress my family.  I'm not asking anything for myself.  In fact, if you are a guy reading this, DO NOT take it as an invitation to flood my inbox with creepy emoticons; if I were interested in you, you'd already know.  My intention is to simply call attention to the root of the problem. So ladies, stop letting men get away with such lethargic behavior.  And gentlemen, get off your fucking ass, grow a pair, and start taking a more active role in meeting women.  At the very least, just nod your head at the creepy girl smiling at you from the elliptical...







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