A Real Man
“It’s nice to finally have a real man in the house”, I overheard her say. I have a very intimate relationship with my neighbor. Not because we’ve exchanged more than a few casual hellos. But because it’s summer in LA and everyone has their windows & doors open, which means I can hear every conversation between her and her boyfriend. It’s an interesting position to be in for someone who teaches about relationship. You would think that to overhear her words was sweet; only the comment wasn’t for her boyfriend, at least not directly. Though he was in the room, it was directed towards an older repairman who had come by to fix the stove. Naturally, I could feel the darts leaping off her words and towards her boyfriend’s heart, the clear insinuation that he wasn’t a real man to her. “Just joking”, she quickly added. But we all know what that means...
This weekend I watched as she ran around preparing for a gathering they were hosting. Making 10 appetizers, cleaning the living room, setting up at the picnic table on the terrace. He seemed to be watching tv. “Have you thanked my mum for the birthday card she sent you?,” she shouted out from the kitchen. “My birthday was 3 months ago” he responded. “Yeah, i know. Did you ever thank her?”. Silence…
You get the picture.
One of the most counterintuitive lessons for me in my erotic training was that men want to make women happy. I just didn’t believe it. I walked around the world with the sense that men mostly didn’t care. That the only way to be happy was to look after myself. Really that men had no clue how to make me happy. I soon discovered that last sentence was the only part that was true. And it wasn’t because of men. It was because of me.
I rarely gave men the opportunity to succeed with me, because I wouldn't ask for what I wanted. I believed that if someone wanted to give or do something for me, they would already be doing it. And me asking for something was only an imposition. If men wanted to make me happy, they would already be on it. So I stored up my desire until all I felt was resentment (and believe me, it doesn’t take long for unexpressed desire to turn resentful). We’ve all been in the field of a resentful woman before... Yikes.
It hadn’t occurred to me that wanting to make me happy, and knowing how to make me happy were two very different things for men. And that it was up to me to bridge the divide. And that what bridges the divide is my gracious expression of desire. How different the world looks with desire expressed. Not that it’s easy. As I’ve said before it’s still one of my most challenging practices. And my expression of desire doesn’t mean that I get everything I ask for (or that that is even the point). But understanding how desire works has changed my fundamental belief in men’s nature.
I have sat with enough men now to see how deeply willing and loving their hearts are, how much they want to please, and (often) how little information they have on how to do it. I have sat with women long enough to see how deeply we deprive men of the information they require. And instead how we resort to the 4 M’s of mothering, managing, manipulating and martyrdom to try and get what we want; in the process, stripping men of the opportunity to learn how to offer their best.
As I write this I overhear my neighbor telling her boyfriend “I just wiped that table down”. Clearly the crumbs presently dropping from his sandwich aren’t pleasing. I have to laugh. Girl, don’t I know it... It’s a painful lesson to get.