The Male Mystique.

17 Oct

I don’t get them. Males. Guys. Men. Boys. I admit this openly and plainly.

Scenario #3,056: A guy laughs at your silly jokes. He actually listens to you. He marvels at all the things you have in common. He accompanies you to a movie or two. He visibly enjoys being in your company. He generally makes you feel like the Prime Ministress of Awesome. Your spidey sense pulls at you. You wonder if something is afoot. You get that weird, tingly feeling around him (which is not impending cardiac arrest, apparently). You realize that you look forward to being around him all the time. Quite naturally, then (and it is natural, because this is how women are: you notice something and you want to talk about it), you take a deep breath and decide to approach him about what you’ve noticed, a bit excited about it, hopeful, not ignorant of the signs.

And he shatters it all. 

Hey, I’m sorry if you thought this was something more. We’re just friends. I’m not ready for that. 

Scenario #5,000,001: A guy laughs at your silly jokes. He actually listens to you. He marvels at all the things you have in common. He accompanies you to a movie or two. He visibly enjoys being in your company. He generally makes you feel like the Prime Ministress of Awesome. Your spidey sense pulls at you. You wonder if something is afoot. You get that weird, tingly feeling around him (which is not impending cardiac arrest, apparently). You realize that you look forward to being around him all the time. Quite naturally, then (and it is natural, because this is how women are: you notice something and you want to talk about it), you take a deep breath and decide to approach him about what you’ve noticed, a bit excited about it, hopeful, not ignorant of the signs. However, you decide against approaching him, not wanting to somehow disturb the force, not wanting to ruin whatever this is. You rather hope that as it goes on, he will take the initiative and come to you to discuss what he’s noticed.

And he shatters it all.

Hey, I would love for you to meet my fiance. Are you free this evening?  

Friendly Advice #718: You shouldn’t have said anything. You should have waited for him to come to you.

Friendly Advice #3: You should have said something. You shouldn’t have waited for him to come to you.

Do you see? Isn’t it obvious why I live in utter confusion? How does one muddle through the whole Math class feel of the menfolk and relationships and the whole silliness of platonic and whether to accept that I don’t even have this level of communication or constancy with my closest friend, but I do with you, but we’re just pals, and that makes no sense, and oh, but you do have feelings for me, but how would I have known because you didn’t say anything and oh, ok, you were waiting for the right time, which was a year later, when I’ve grown cobwebs and bitten my entire nail bed from the anxiety of it all, and…and…

When I was in college, I waited until the last minute to fulfill my Math prerequisite. Not for a lack of trying, but none of the classes were working for me and the beauty of college was walking out of class whenever I wanted, which I certainly took advantage of when it came to Math. Nevertheless, if I wanted to graduate, I needed that credit. I went to my advisor, who highly recommended a professor with a long record of helping students like me. I went to his class, convinced that it wouldn’t work, not for someone who had struggled and fought with Math for so long. I had no expectations of passing or getting it. Oh, but it did work. And I did pass. And I did get it. Even better, it was one of the best classes I ever took. Why? I understood what he was teaching, solely because he made sure that his students knew how to get to the answer. Patiently. And that’s how I learn. Everything fell into the place, once I knew how to get there. I passed with an A, by the way, in case you wondered why pigs were flying in 2000.

My point in relating that Mathy blast from the past can be summed up by something a friend once told me: “[Girley], when you find that right person, it won’t be confusing. You won’t have to guess. Everything will fall into place.”

Contingency Plan #1 and Only: until we reach Everything Falling Into Place, I’m intent on taking everything at face value. Whatever it is, it is. (Or will be, will be.) I will ask no questions. I will do no guesswork. I won’t ask random strangers if that twinkle in his eye was meant for me. No phone call, no hanging out, no nothin’, will mean anything until whoever he is tells me exactly how he feels. (That’s right, folks, he has to tell me. May be old-fashioned, but that’s me, unapologetically.) If it’s right, it’s right, and things will fall into place. 

Until then, I can’t allow the Male/Relationship Mystique to make me crazy (well, crazier). I refuse to continue to pull out my hair over these affairs of the heart.

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3 Responses to “The Male Mystique.”

  1. Emma November 18, 2011 at 9:33 pm #

    LOL! Oh I love it! Girl, you really do have a way w/words! lol…

    I can SOOOOO relate to this. 🙂

    ~Em

    • tym2ryt November 21, 2011 at 4:59 pm #

      Haha, thanks! Glad you enjoyed it! I think it pretty much encapsulates how we feel about the matter, don’t you?

  2. Emma November 28, 2011 at 8:03 pm #

    Yep, definitely. You worded it in such a way that pretty much sums up my experience as of late. I couldn’t have said it better myself!

    I like the humor with it too. 🙂

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