I’VE never liked men. I like guys.
Guys are often in between things like jobs and houses, which means they’re more likely to stay up with you all night, drinking wine and playing gin rummy. They’ll rub your belly. They’ll lick chocolate off it. They’ll like your cute little dog. A guy is never going to shoot Old Yeller in the woods.
Then again, guys don’t remember to tell you the doctor’s office called. They don’t check your tires before your big trip. They don’t say, “Call me when you get there.” They say, “Love you, have fun,” because they can’t imagine anything bad happening to you. Which is good, and somehow bad. Guys don’t tell you what to do. This also is both good and, oddly, bad.
Personally, I like men. I like someone who asks me to call when I get there, who will call me if I don’t remember, just in case. I like a man who won’t wallow in confusion, who knows what he wants, and who is reliable. Who is responsible, who knows about wine, who budgets and keeps savings accounts and things. But then the author’s definition of ‘man’ seems to include ‘takes revenge’ and ‘doesn’t talk about things’, and I don’t know that that’s all part of the package, either. My dad is a man, not a guy. Our next door neighbour is a guy, and he has a wife and child – it isn’t an age thing.
Anyway, I quite liked the article – thank you Martin for sending it to me – it amused me and whiled away some time I should have probably spent revising. I think there’s another category, though, for those who are neither, yet, are too young and confused and unsure of themselves to be ‘men’, but will be, one day, and should be. After all, we’re only twenty. I have a cousin my age whose last two relationships have been with men older than she is, because she’s got fed up of waiting for males our age to get it together – and I have to say by the sounds of it I think she’s on to something, she certainly seems very happy at the moment. Me, well, I’m just going to have to wait, I guess…!