Now, I’m not going to get into my patent-pending “Scale-o’- Gayness” here or where I identify myself on it, but for the ease of telling this particular narrative, I’m going to choose the simple moniker of “hetero”, as that most closely matches me for the one of only two (very myopic) choices by which mainstream society chooses to classify people.
That first lamentation out of the way, the main one I wish to address is the one that so often smacks me in the face as a western man. More importantly, it is the “burr in my saddle” as a genius writer – someone capable not only of imagining rich, engaging characters, but also able to comprehend the drought of them in reality. And what is my chief complaint?
There are no perfect women.
Don’t get me wrongly – there are no perfect men, either (Though we come closer – I mean, we have Ryan Reynolds, Bradley Cooper, Gerard Butler, Jason Statham, and Ryan Gosling on our team! Who do you women have? Kim Kardashian? Give me a break.). But this is a man’s blog, so go write your own complaint post. 😛
Honestly, I’m not just talking about looks. But let’s be real here – you women that think “BBW” is a cute label for being hideously obese aren’t exactly helping the problem. And the ones of you with chests like 12-year-old boys aren’t helping your cause by vilifying those others of you with brains enough to get that lack of womanly curves fixed! Also, I’d never ever talk smack about a chick with a nice bubble-ass… but some of you seriously need to learn the difference between an ass being juicy and just disgustingly lumpy. (If I ever address womanly looks, I’ll provide pictures – trust me, this is just a snippet of the “looks” conversation.)
More to the actual point, I’m talking about the women that they just plain don’t make anymore on the inside. I’m talking about women that used to be 100% about their man: women who paid so much attention to their men that a man would feel downright selfish if he spent even one percent of his interest on himself! Chris Rock had the right idea about whose fault Monica Lewinsky was… it was Hillary’s fault! (The good part is about 3 minutes in.)
And women (not the ladies – you ladies know this instinctively), if you “have” a man, then goddamn it – act like it! If he’s yours, you don’t expect to ignore him all the time and have him act any more loving to you than the strangers you ignore on the street every day, do you? Hell, even a loving dog will stop greeting you at the door with a wagging tail if you ignore it long enough! (And don’t kid yourself, bitches – we’re way more intelligent and sensible than dogs.)
Of course, this doesn’t apply to a woman without a man. If you don’t have a man in your life, then that means you haven’t found anyone that you’d like to treat that way. And if you’re the type of woman who balks at treating a man like the center of your universe so that he may have the freedom to do the same for you… then guess what? You don’t deserve a man in your life! You’re selfish, and any man worth his salt (and not just out to sleep with you) would tell you the same thing!
The problem really is that I can write contrition, obedience, love, adoration, energy, passion, beauty, intelligence, wittiness, style, a great sense of humor, and common interests into a female character in a book… but that’s all it is – fiction. Even if they got an excellent actress like Kate Winslet, Christina Hendricks, or Helen Mirren to play her when the book got adapted to film, it would still be just a fantasy, because that version of those wonderful actresses would only exist on those few frames of celluloid.
The coldest, hardest truth of the matter is that I know – by any rational, scientific evaluation – that I would never be a match for that woman (at least in my current state) if she were to exist. It’s a depressing thought… and perhaps the biggest deterrent to working out that my mind has ever concocted. I mean, what’s the point of vying for supremacy if there’s no prize to be won? It kind of puts the whole race in a rather bleak, realistic perspective.
The most I can hope to do is translate my love for beautiful ladies (not any bitches that are reading) into fictitious prose, so that perhaps some later generation can latch onto the love I truly feel for nature’s most beautiful of creatures… and attempt to emulate what I’ve described and bring beauty back to the barren, gray future world that I see on the near horizon.