A Letter to All Women… Sort Of.

OK, so I originally wanted to write about how the International Quarter in D.C. (where the World Bank Group, IMF and OAS operate) has suddenly found itself overrun all types of hobos, or how the duck I blogged about was mercilessly killed by a hawk two weeks ago (I WILL KILL YOU HAWK) with its ducklings fittingly saved by staff from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, but I find myself compelled to write this instead:

Dear Women of the World,

WTF.

I mean, seriously. Over the past six months or so, both in my life and in others, I have seen you make the weirdest, most illogical decisions.

Having been given what you’ve wanted, you eschew it because there might be something better out there. And of course you get yourselves hurt. And of course you come back, because we’re always there. And of course you hurt us again, because we’re never enough…

OK, you know what? Fuck this. Let’s start over.

Dear Women of the World,

You’re awesome. And I’m sorry.

Why the sudden turnaround? Because as I was writing those words I kept thinking about you, or at least those of you who are in my life one way or the other, and realized that despite the craziness and the outbursts, you actually make sense. I’m sorry because I sometimes don’t see it.

Of course, we’re not perfect. Far from it. We are just as illogical as you are. We might put up a great show, but in the end all we want is to come home and shmoop by the TV and cuddle with you just like you do. As for myself, I’ve committed collossal stupidities in the past. Yes, I have cheated on someone. I know that will automatically reduce the value of my words to nothing in the eyes of some of you, if not all, but it taught me the biggest lesson I’ve learned in my life: that every woman is unique, worthy of boundless love and should be treated as such, and that men who cheat are scumbags. I was a scumbag. I hope I’m not one anymore.

 Why are you awesome? Because you listen. Because you care. Case in point: a deep conversation about the intricacies of life can happen with ONE guy, but introduce a bunch of guys to the mix and the conversation quickly ends with “Shut up. She’s wrong. You’re the man. Have a beer.” Which…. OK, but it doesn’t really do anything to solve the issues on the table and certainly doesn’t give me any enlightenment.

Talking to you about something deep, however, is different. There are layers. There are tones of voice. If you’re not directly involved and are commenting as an outside observer, there might even be solutions to the problem on deck. And after that, we still have the beers. How awesome is that? My point is this: Any guy who says he needs a “mancation” is incredibly disturbed. You are the perfect partner and foil. Why wouldn’t you go with us?

True, there are guys who play games and are pretty much assholes, and thus there’s a need for filtering them out. True, there’s a lot of fun in the chase, the give-and-take, the dancing that is the extended courtship (before and beyond a relationship, romantic or not). And we struggle. Esquire Magazine’s latest issue includes The Man’s Guide To Women, which may be the most comprehensive map to beginning to understand your subtleties. Of course, it is most likely a crock of shit. But it gives me hope to know that I am not alone in trying to uncover your secrets.

BUT.

(Yes, there is a but.)

Sometimes there’s not a need for all that. When a guy finally gets his shit together, gets rid of all the vestigial machismo and actually, truly opens up to you, there’s no need to play games anymore. If you feel angry, say so. (No “he should know”, no. You’d expect him to tell you if he was upset, right?) If you’re keeping something to yourself because divulging it will probably hurt us, just say it; it will come out sooner or later and it will hurt regardless, but the deceit is the problem.

I mean, we don’t expect all games to end, nor do we want that. “Whether they give or refuse,” said Ovid, “it delights women just the same to have been asked.” And we like asking, too. But I will cite what Christina Hendricks said about men in the aforementioned issue of Esquire and say it back to you: “If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you.” This applies not only to bodies, but to everything. Not everything has to be a game.

On behalf of all sane, mature men (which I hope to include myself), let me say this: we love you, Women of the World. We love your quirks, your laughs, your friendship, your companionship, romantic or otherwise. We’ll meet you halfway, all the way, all the time.

So, we won’t play as many games as we would normally play (we’ll call the next day, PROMISE) if you don’t and vice versa, and we’ll all be happier for it. But even if you don’t agree, we’ll still love you forever.

Sound good?