Men. I miss men. Like, real men, not the sissy boy, metrosexual pansies that are being produced today! They knew how to fix things, they’d drop everything to help you open a jar. They didn’t want to cuddle or talk about their feelings, they didn’t whine about their mothers or their lousy childhoods. They took you camping and wore flannel, they smelled like Brut cologne and the outdoors. They didn’t get manicures or nose jobs, they never asked for directions and they wouldn’t dare condescend to use MapQuest . . . they collected power tools, they built stuff. They mowed their own freaking lawns.
We loved men like this, they made us feel protected and feminine. What happened?
Now if I want to see a guy like this, I have to watch reruns of MacGyver!
Fellas. Come on. The past hundred years have been amazing for women, we’ve become so damn accomplished and independent! We got the vote, we screamed, “WE CAN DO IT!” with Rosie the Riveter! We got out of the kitchen and into the workplace! We stopped making your goddamn dinner and Rosa Parks caused a ruckus when she refused to move for a man! We caused a riot or two and burned a bra, caused a sexual revolution and now we’re suddenly welcome in a world that used to belong to men! We made Supreme Court, we went to space! And you?
Your dumb ass cried at The Notebook.
You actually *watched* The Notebook.
Come on. The Notebook, man . . . the freaking Notebook. No woman thinks it’s sexy you cried at that! Now we may say we want a man who’s in touch with his feelings and is not afraid of his emotions, but dude. We’re women. We’re bitching just to bitch. I’m sorry, but if you look deeply into my eyes and start telling me about your miserable youth and your innermost feelings, I shall laugh in your face and hand you a tampon at once!
I’m taking this very seriously; gentlemen, I blame your mothers. Your stupid effing mothers who taught you to freaking TALK about your feelings. And your emotions. And yada, yada, yada . . . shutup and fix the goddamn disposal like God intended. I swear, with every generation that passes, guys get wimpier and wimpier; I myself believe it starts in early childhood. MY generation had GI Joe and toy guns were still available. Purple dinosaurs weren’t teaching MY generation to be “friends” and “love” everybody. Guys were not urged to talk about their feelings.
If my generation STILL produced a bunch of saps, think about what the future will bring. Barney . . . are you serious? Really? Because that’s not the gayest thing in the world! The Gameboy generation who didn’t go out to play because their mothers knew they’d get in less trouble playing Tetris than riding bikes. Yeah. I’m gonna love dating them. Perhaps the only silver lining is that I don’t like younger guys and I’m still part of the NINTENDO generation! We had badass playground equipment!
Playground equipment these days! Just look at playground equipment, everything’s safe and soft plastic w/ rounded edges! If you fall, you fall on foam and IT WON’T HURT AT ALL! There is nothing that will pinch you or poke you or give you splinters! No way.
At least when *I* was a kid, you had to be brave! You *had* to be, we had REAL playground equipment! There was no plastic covering over the chains on swings! You pinched your fingers! You went down the slide on a summer day, you burned your butt! You fell off the monkey bars (which were jagged and metal and sharp) you didn’t land on any stupid foam, you fell on the hard ground in the mulch and rocks! But it’s a risk you were willing to take! You didn’t have a choice!
But what do you think guys who grow up w/ all the soft plastic foam will turn out like? I shudder.
In conclusion, *grill* me something. And wear flannel.