Tag Archives: men

Doctor Zhivago, Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, and Little Dorrit


What a list of men this is! At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

With great shame, I will admit that ,while I own every book that these literary men originate from, I’ve yet to completely read any of their fictional biographs. I know the stories, sure, or at least those of Jekyll, Hyde, and Frank, but I was only required to read bits and pieces of their stories in high school, and while I pride myself on being a book whore, it is with great sorrow and guilt that I acknowledge my utter lack of knowledge about these stories. Let me explain why these are the men I have chosen to be my literary fodder for the next months.

Doctor Zhivago is known only as my Auntie’s most favorite movie of all time. Perhaps it is the storyline, or Omar Sharif’s delicious accent, I am not certain, as Netflix has decided to remove said film from their Now Streaming lists at the very time that I finally decided to watch it. All that remains now is a reissued version starring Kiera Knightly, who I greatly despise. Luckily, I acquired a worn copy of this book in an antique shop awhile ago, and so I will make an effort to see just exactly what it is that thrills my Auntie so.

Now Frankenstein, I have seen. And while Kenneth Branaugh is as low on my celebrity totem pole as Kiera Knightly, I must say that Robert DeNiro’s presence as Frank’s monster made me forgive Ken’s performance. Too, my best friend Delightful, who is much smarter than I, had to read and write a 20 page paper for school last year on the book, and so I must read it, so we have a great many literary things to speak of. (Other than all the other literary things we speak of already.)

Jekyll and Hyde are a pair that I am slightly more familiar with. I actually am not certain if I have read their entire story or no, because it was included in a high school lit book, and seemed much shorter than the actual copy I now own. This I will say- I do believe there are a Jekyll and Hyde in each of us. I am just accustomed to letting my hide out a little more often than the rest of you. (Heehee, did you see the play on words I did there? Brilliant, I say.)

Little Dorrit is a complete mystery to me, as I know not who he is, what he does for a living, or what it is that makes him so little. This title was one I came across on a more than regular basis when I worked at the Bookstore That Must Not Be Named, and as I greatly adore Charles Dickens and his writings, I picked up a copy, with the intent on reading it sometime in my lifetime. I believe that Dorrit may be the first in my Journey of Literary Men, as I am insanely curious to see why he is little.

I’m sure there are a great many fabled men I’ve yet to read about, but as I do not wish to be called a fiction skank, I’ll start with this little cultural gang bang. If anyone has any suggestions for future scholarly forays, let me know.

 

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“Real” Men- The Miniseries: Men and Money


It has come to my attention as of late that htere are many different perceptions as to what constitutes a “real” man.

When the term comes to mind, I immediately wonder, “Why is there so much pressure on the weaker sex? On certainly doesn’t hear the term “real woman” as frequently as “real man.” But then again, men need to be pressured once in awhile.

The purpose of my miniseries is to bring up the generic qualities associated with “Real Men” and either hurrah or poo-poo them.

Part One: “Real Men” pay for the date.

I am on the fence about this one. While I understand the concept, I, as a “Real Woman” have a hard time saying, “Pay for my french fries , Dude.” My firm belief that I should pay for my own taters resulted in divorce, when on my first date ever, I blatantly refused to have a man pay for my food- that man became my husband and then ex, when he became much too comfortable with me paying for things.

On the upside, I ended up with my Rockstar, who is of the opinion that he should pay for my fries. (and other assorted restaurant fare.) While this is a nice change, he is also of the opinion that if he lacks fundage for French fries, we mayn’t dine out- when this happens, I have no problem offering to pay, since any chance to pass up cooking immmediately thrills me.

Going deeper into this, I would like to state that I at no time expect any man to pay my bills. The only exception would be if one were to knock me up with 5 or 7 children (it is hoped not simultaneously) and I were to stay home and care for them in order to safe money on daycare. If this were to happen, my household would be immaculately clean and wondrous multi-cultural meals would be served nightly when my man arrived home from work. However, I would probably end up finishing my book, and proceed to make millions, therefore contributing to our monthly dollar accumulation.

I despise women who expect the man to pay for everything, because, I’m sorry- it is not the 17th century.

And so, as far as this subject is concerned, I would have to say a “Real Man” is one who expects to pay for the date, but is humble enough to allow the woman to buy her own damn French fries if she wants, or if the funds are needed.

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Women Is Bitches.


Today I shall ask the question that confuses me greatly. Why are there so many men who are completely pussy-whipped? Don’t get me wrong; I believe pussy is a perfectly valid incentive for men to do what they do, but to elaborate,  why are men completely pussy-whipped by bitches?

I will admit,  I am very selfish and think I should have my way essentially always, but having my way does not generally in any way hinder my man from having his way, except for the occasions when he wants to take naps. (I understand as one get older, a person may need a nap, but at 40?) What I am talking about is when women try to change a man in such a way that only benefits themselves, and NOT the man. And why do men put up with that?

For example, my ex-hubby has a friend who is in this situation. Perhaps a year after he was married, this friend, (who we will call “Bob”) came over to drink with us at my ex-brother-in-law’s. I was carrying on and having a lively old time when my hubby came over to me and told me I should go give “Bob” a hug because he was crying in his beer. (literally) So I went on over to “Bob” and gave him a big ol’ Sparklebumps hug, and he proceeded to bitch about his wife for the next little while. He carried on about how she yelled at him all the time, and how she never wanted him to have any fun unless she was there, and how he was going to be in trouble tomorrow because he was out drinking tonight without her. In my drunken state, I nodded and gave my honest opinion, “Yes, well, you have to realize that not every girl is as fun as me.” This seemed to make him feel better, (because he was drunken and of course it made sense) and the next day, he went home to his wife and told her we did It. (which was not true and most definitely NOT my point) Anyhoo, that story is for another time. The point is that instead of divorcing her nagging, controlling ass, he moved on to have 3 more kids with her. Maybe he likes her better now, or he just realizes that if he was to leave the child support payments would be killer, but what possessed him to stay in the first place?

Another example is my friend, whom I love dearly, but after listening to her bitch about her boyfriends for the past 12 years, I would never consider wanting to marry her. She is a great girl- she’s pretty, indepedent, and has a great job, but every single boyfriend she’s ever had she has tried to change and control, (which is why I believe she is not yet married). Perhaps they were just not “The One”, who knows.

A few years ago, she was “dating” (fucking) a man who was from a different country, and who had stated in the very beginning he would never consider marrying her because his family wouldn’t approve. Yes, he was a momma’s boy, but if a man told you that would you stick around and try to change his mind? The entire relationship was spent in a cloud of argumentative bliss, she trying to convince him to be a better boyfriend, and then reprimanding him passionately when he refused. She broke up with him, he broke up with her, they got back together… you know. The point is, why would any man in their right mind put up with that? She has since found a new man, but bugs him constantly about buying her a ridiculously uneconomical engagement ring.

A final example is my ex-hubby. No, I am not referring to his time with me, as I have already proved that I won’t stay around if someone doesn’t want to change for me. (And anyway, I’m awesome) I am speaking of his current relationship. I occasionally get texts from him, in which he informs me of the latest going-ons, and he has stated to me that she runs a tight ship and he’s not sure he wants to marry her because she is that way. WHY WOULD HE STAY WITH HER?!

There are just as many a-hole men out there too. (Just to prove that I’m not being sexist.) But seriously, what makes a man want to deal with a bitch?I believe that men (and women) should indeed compromise and change for their partner in ways that are beneficial to both parties. I don’t think one should ever “be the boss” of the other, as that seemed to spark resentment, and anyway, if you wanted to spend your life being bossed around, why wouldn’t you just work? I don’t think a man should ever have to say, “She won’t LET me.” XOXO

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The Skin Man and Other Assorted Creepers


It is my belief that the most rejected and disconsolate men have made appearances at my bookstore. I will tell you now why I believe this. While, I admit I can be utterly adorable at times, I would never in any way describe myself as sexy or overly proficient in the the Bewitching of Men department. Nontheless, this seems to not matter one iota where the creepers of my store are concerned. Here is a short overview of just a few of them:

The Skin Man: I should point out- this one wasn’t a customer until AFTER he met me. In the times when I was employed with two jobs, my schedules were such that every day I worked I had 3 hours in between jobs. This wouldn’t have been much of an issue, except for the fact that I lived 45 minutes away from the town my jobs are in. So I got to figure out ingenious ways in which to spend my extra time. Luckily, there is a giant Caribou Coffee in the parking lot of my mall, so that is where I wasted time the majority of the winter months. I would bring a book and order a large Turtle Mocha, with milk chocolate, extra hot, with no Snickers. (I don’t like chunks in my beverages.) One afternoon, I was reading a book which was ,in hindsight, basically an adult version of How To Train Your Dragon, when an older man sat in the easy chair next to me. I realize that most people that venture into a coffee stable and stay are usually of the Yuppie variety, with their bluetooths, (blueteeth?) and laptops, but this man was just a man in his early 60’s with no digital devices to occupy him.

At first, I paid him no mind, as I was exerting myself trying to get into my dragon book, but then he asked what I was reading, so I began to converse with him. Now. my mother always taught me never to talk to strangers, but having worked in customer service since I’ve been old enough to have a job has kinda eroded  that thinking out of my brain.  The man introduced himself and started began telling me about climbing mountains or something equally interesting, so I deemed him as a man with stories to tell. As he rambled on, I was distracted by his tale when I noticed he kept looking at my arm, which made ME look at my arm, thinking a bug had alighted upon it or fuzzies had gotten stuck on it from my coat. The man then halted in the middle of his sentence and said, “You have really nice skin.”  Warning bells went off in my head immediately, as I recalled a much quoted line from a blockbuster movie, (“It rubs the lotion on it’s skin; It does this whenever It’s told”) and I judged myself to be having coffee face-to-face with a Buffalo Bill type. His observation,(while somewhat flattering in a skeezy way) was so odd I didn’t know how to respond so I just said, “Thank you, oh my, I must depart to work now.” I skedaddled outta there faster than a farmer with a case of the hershey squirts.

A few hours later, I was in the safety of my very public bookstore, when the Skin Man made an appearance. I thought back to our conversation and realized I had mentioned working in a used bookstore, and since we are the only one in town, I suppose he wouldn’t have had to be overly brilliant to figure out where I was. He smoothly looked around for a few minutes and asked me book-related questions, then said it again, “You really do have the most beautiful skin.” While I was imagining how I would escape from the deep well he was sure to put me in, he placed a $10 bill on my counter and said, “That’s for you, because you have entertained me.” And he left before I ever got a chance to say, “You can’t pay me for my skin! It holds my muscles in and I need it!” I never saw him again. Now tell me that wasn’t  weird.

Next, Married Guy:  a very attractive tall man with curly hair who would come into my bookstore quite frequently and actually ask about books. Being the friendly Book Lady that I am, when pretty men who read books come in, I feel it is my duty to help them find what they are looking for. Unfortuneately, after he realized I wear high heels, he was no longer looking for books. He would, after that, come in to see what shoes I was wearing under the guise of looking for Dragonlance books. Yes, of course I love it when people notice my shoes- I am, after all, an attention whore. It wasn’t creepy until I was walking back from the park one day, whena car zoomed up next to me and stopped. It was Married Guy. Without a shirt. Now, forgive for this observation, but when a man is driving a mini-van that has toys from his kids dangling from the rear-view mirror, and his cell phone is ringing with a call from his wife, no ab muscles are going to make me say, “Hey, come on over to my place.” When I mentioned the absence of a shirt, he said, “Well, I saw you walking so I took it off.” To which I replied, “Because you thought I could use it as a parasol?”  He then informed me that he was married with kids (which I already knew) and that he would never do anything to jeopardize that. I still don’t get why he felt the need to inform me so, as I never once gave the impression that I needed his half-nude body crushed against me. Anyhoo, I said, “Good, go home to them and put your shirt back on.” and bid him goodbye. I crossed the street and went into my apartment building.

A week later, Married Guy showed up at my store again, flirty as always. He informed me that he had been to my apartment building looking for me and spoken with some of my neighbors. WTF?! This is by far the most stalkerish behavior I have encountered. I told him he’d best not come to my building anymore, as he was married and I had my Rockstar. And furthermore, if he wanted to continue coming to my store, he was going to have to buy a book. He bought a book. For the next few months he would show up occassionally stating how hot I was and how he wanted to “rip my panties off and do me.” Perhaps I should have called the Policia, but he was never physically threatening, except for the few times he showed up buzzing my apartment, to which I responded by pretending I wasn’t home. He finally got the point.

Cabinet Maker Guy: This was the first man to approach me after I started working at the bookstore. I was working evenings, and he would come in and just LOOK at books for hours at a time.(which alot of people do.) On one of these occassions, I asked him if there was anything I could help him find, and he began conversing with me, much the same way as the Skin Man did. He told me he was a cabinet maker and bla bla bla. When it was getting close to closing time, I told him if he wanted to buy anything he better cuz I was closing up. He then asked if he could give me his number. This was when I was yet married, and I let him know that my hubby woudn’t be very happy if I had the phone number of a strange man. The man said, “But I thought we just had a very good conversation, and I just want to talk, so I’m going to just leave my number for you.” As I was protesting, he wrote his number down and left. I threw it away.

A few weeks later, I was closing on a Saturday night, bending down to shelve a book on the bottom shelf, when I turned around and had the shit startled outta me by this man standing mere inches away from me. He said, “Hi, I was at a bachelor party and decided to walk over here and see if you were here.” My response? “So you left a bachelor party where you were having a good time to walk over to see if the married girl at the bookstore was working?” Yeah, the creepiest part is that it was closing time and he wouldn’t leave. I had a nightmare about him that night.

This post has carried on much too long now, and I am only beginning to get started. I am aware that my friendly, flirtatious nature may be what gets me into these situations, but I have always been clear that I have (before) a husband or a boyfriend, which does NOT deter these men. The only thing good that has come out of any of this is that I got paid $10 for having “really nice skin.”

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