I love men. I love making them laugh. I love whispering provocative and challenging things in their ears. I love the timbre of their voice when massaging their backs after a sweaty round between the sheets. I love when they dare me to reach higher, even if it’s done in an unkind way. I’m embarrassed to admit that I still love wearing high heels and tight jeans, just to make that one odd geezer in a night club smile. I love planning and making a man’s favorite meal, sometimes catching myself singing along happily while doing so. When I was younger, I loved the older men who taught me how to make them quiver, as they answered a million-jillion little questions that my father should’ve stuck around to do. Now I love and adore the men my age who are either my friends, work mates or lover - who admit that they don’t have all the answers for my more complex and darker questions, shyly giving up, “I don’t know, let’s just figure it out together.” Finally, I’ve learned to love wholeheartedly, more completely, due to putting my own personal satisfaction and career hopes on hold at times - in order to navigate the raising of two young men to the best of my ability.
All that being said, the heinous acts that have taken lives or have come to light in the past two weeks - and the fact that when you break down the numbers, 1 out of every 9 males in our country is or becomes a violent offender, compared to 1 out of every 56 females…So I say f*ck regulating and registering guns, we need to start registering and regulating men.
That was my first silly thought of the morning as I let the dog out and started gathering the ingredients to make M&M pancakes for my two dudes, who were still slumbering in bunk beds in the middle of a messy room. I chewed on how I was going to frame our morning conversation. I decide that I’ll open with highlighting my wish that they never pick up a firearm, or rely on the fairy tales of an ancient society that has nothing to do in today’s world. I’ll close our talk with the idea that a real man doesn’t raise his hand to strike at what makes him uncomfortable - instead he reaches down and offers it up, so that everyone can climb aboard and enjoy the view.
Sketch of men by Pencil-Swinger
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