Beware the Man-Boys (unfinished draft, 2016)

I work with a handful of male creatures I've nicknamed 'Man-Boys'. I only just today realized that I know at least three Man-Boys, and realized I was onto something when I connected the commonalities in their behaviors. I'm still working out this theory so bear with me.

The Man-Boy is a late 30s/40-something adult man who still retains the interests he had as a 12-year old boy. These interests may include, but are not limited to, superheroes, sports, comic books, drinking liquor, music, boobies, and video games. Now there is nothing wrong with maintaining interests in any of these things; the tip-off is the perennial wide-eyed excitement they get when talking about their interests, paired with an utter lack of interest in so-called 'grown-up' things like politics or current events. But it's great to stay young at heart, you say, so why is this a bad thing? The problem with Man-Boys isn't their interests; those are merely indicators that help you identify the Man-Boy. The problem is that the Man-Boy also retains a boyish sense of right and wrong, mistaking their solipsistic world for the real one the rest of us live in. Theirs is a world where jokes and innuendos soften the edges of reality, and allow them to live in a cushioned bachelor-pad like space that they create for themselves. It is a space without consequences, where only their desires matter, and where other people and their judgments cease to exist.

The Man-Boys I know are typified by what I term their 'perverted' sense of humor. They are the men who make sexual innuendos at every turn, and who everyone sees as 'harmless' and 'endearing' because they're so jocular and witty. Women secretly like to be flattered, so when the Man-Boy makes a sexual innuendo in their direction, they love it, even though ostensibly nothing will come of it. Man-Boys are usually fun to be around, and attract friends (male and female but mostly female) quite easily. They may even be considered the life of the party in the office, the fun guy who always has the clever quip, and a clever view of the world to go with it.

Man-Boys are harmless, you say, they are fun-loving dudes who like boobies and comic books--big deal, you say. I think that with all Man-Boys there is a destructive potentiality in them that goes unrecognized, and that's when they can become dangerous. I think Man-Boys joke about sex and make innuendos because they are fishing. Even if they aren't conscious of it, it is fishing nonetheless. Fishing for anything that feeds their ego: confidence, acceptance by their peers, laughter of women, and possibly, sexual intrigue with female coworkers. If taken to task for a sexual innuendo, they can just insist they are joking, make you feel like a prude, and it is easily brushed off. Man-Boys may not even be conscious that they are seeking validation in this way; they may be even less conscious that they are overtly fishing for sex. But if sex is presented as an option, the ever-hopeful Man-Boy would absolutely jump at the opportunity. Man-Boys likely think that life is like a spy movie, or should be.

The Man-Boys I know all have complicated relationships with the significant others in their lives, and would likely make better bachelors than life partners. Nevertheless, some are (unhappily) married, and others are permanent cohabitators with their SO, since they view marriage as unnecessary (it's 'just a piece of paper' they say). Most don't have children, though I know of at least one exception.

Because Man-Boys usually have a dismissive attitude towards the world generally, and see themselves as Deep Thinkers who are therefore Exceptions to the Rules, as such they usually have pretty loose moral standards. They get away with saying pretty perverted things, or making stupid jokes that give off the (false) impression that they have deeper knowledge and are sexual dynamos. In my experience, this behavior usually indicates that they are lacking in some aspect of their sexuality--maybe they aren't getting any at home, hate their contentious spouse, or they just have small dicks--and make up for this lack by being overtly sexual at every turn.

Some Man-Boys that I know have the self-awareness to see that their behavior is disgusting, but they do it anyway. It's like a compulsion. This one Man-Boy I know said some pretty gruesome, aggressively sexual things about other female coworkers in my hearing. But generally, I think most Man-Boys think their behavior is blameless, and even winning. All of them are capable of being very professional, speaking with intelligence and clarity, thus earning the respect of their peers even while making disgusting sex jokes.

There are plenty of Men out there who do not behave the way Man-Boys behave, which is why the Man-Boy classification is so distinct. They don't drop sexual innuendos in the presence of female coworkers, they don't have an obsession with boyish things or topics; they respect women and view their wives and girlfriends as partners and friends. They enjoy sex, but they aren't constantly trying to validate something in themselves by seeking sexual attention; and their interests usually evolve over time to include more mature matters than the boyish obsession with superheroes and female body parts.

Living in limbo.

So I've done something potentially life-changing: I applied for a job down south. The interview was two weeks ago tomorrow. A series of personal connections landed me the interview, and the interview itself went really well. But for the last two weeks I've been living in a weird sort of limbo, where I can't make any definite plans for the summer or the immediate future because I simply must refrain from doing so until I have more information on what is going to happen.

They said they would let me know about the job either way, but that I would likely hear in early June or late May. It's really hard not to get my hopes up, because I'm sick of my job (it's just time for a change), and I'm sick of the weather here, sick of our neighborhood, sick of my daughter's private school. I know I'm setting myself up for extreme disappointment by daydreaming about leaving here this summer, but I can't stop. If nothing else, I'm learning that I'm more ready to leave here than I originally thought! 

They say you can't go home again (well, specifically, Thomas Wolfe said it). In many ways, I think that's unfortunately true. There will be many uncomfortable family-related things that I will need to confront and/or deal with. I've lived away from them for 15 years now, and I'm not used to regular contact, and there are a lot of uncomfortable conversations about politics and religion that I manage to avoid in my visits home. But the advantages of moving back outweigh any personal strife I will have initially with my family. 

Unless you've lived away from family for an extended period of time, you can't appreciate how fast things change when you're not there. One visit home, my sister is pregnant; the next, she has a baby; by the next planned visit, that baby will be crawling. Their lives have flown by for me, and my family and I have lived separate lives thousands of miles apart, and they're becoming like strangers because of the distance. Phone calls and video chat help, but it's no replacement for regular in-person contact. For many years I believed that I needed space to live my own life, because my mom's needs would have swallowed me up. Well I've had that space and then some. I no longer shrink from the fact that my family looks to me for guidance, as the voice of reason amidst the insanity; I welcome the challenge to feel that needed.

I'm ready for the next phase of my life. I turned 40 this year, so I think I've turned a corner in terms of life experience. I've been at the same job nearly 12 years now, and it's time to prove myself elsewhere and get paid a more realistic wage for the work I do. After 15 years I still don't feel personally connected to upstate New York; it's just not home, and I miss my family. I lost my grandfather this year; my grandma has dementia. I want to connect with and spend time with the rest of my family before we all get too old and/or it's too late. Love 'em or hate 'em, they're still your family at the end of the day. 

Whether I get this particular job or not, I know now that I'm ready to move, impatient even. It's hard to continue in the same situation once you've come to the conclusion, not just that you're ready to move on, but that you need to move on. You have to embrace the unknown and the uncomfortable because suddenly it's preferable to continuing to live in the prison of current reality. One step at a time and I'll get us home.

There is too much TV now.

There, I've said it. Gone are the days when there were only a few channels and everyone grew up watching the same dozen or so shows. Those shared collective entertainment experiences of the early TV generations helped to make the super-referential pop culture we all enjoy now. Back in the day, we all knew who shot JR, but now we can't answer the question, did Glenn just die on the Walking Dead? No, because I haven't seen it yet, and SPOILERS! Glenn, who's Glenn? What show again? No I'm not caught up, I stopped watching it in season four, I don't watch TWD, I don't like scary shows, I watch OITNB instead. Sigh.

Because there were so few channels and shows back then, you could go into work or school the next day and bank on the fact that everyone had watched the latest episode, because there were no repeats! There was no catching it again tomorrow night on Hulu, or saving it to your DVR, or whatever. In the 80s you might have 'taped' your show but that was cumbersome. If you missed it, that episode was GONE until maybe it possibly popped up again in reruns over the summer. So we all planned our schedules around our favorite shows and watched faithfully week to week.

You would think in this era with so much repeat access to a set of episodes, that you can still bet that your coworkers will be as caught up as you, even if it takes them a week or so to get there. Not so. Like the microwave, on-demand tv technology didn't free up our time, it just created more time for us to do other things with, like watch more tv. So, we're too busy to watch live tv, and because there is too much tv, we can't possibly have time to watch it all. And because there is too much good tv, any random set of 10 people will likely all be watching different tv shows. You can watch and re-watch selected episodes of the Wire, Rick and Morty, or binge-watch whole seasons of shows from the 90s. What's current to you isn't necessarily current to others in your peer group. Just think, future generations will have grown up watching whatever they want whenever they want with no reference to a calendar or sequence of events. There will be fewer shows that become shows that EVERYONE watches, and therefore fewer puns and shared references that unite us in pop culture and friendship.

Sometimes in order to bolster work relationships I confess I've tuned into a show that my peers were watching just to be part of the conversation and see what all the fuss was about. We all use tv as a social currency, something to fall back on in conversation when we've run out of small talk. When it works, it works great; many conversations can be had about tv before you realize you've really spent an hour talking about nothing with an acquaintance. But when you can't find a show in common with someone it is the worst. There is literally nothing left to talk about!

Vegas for the 6th Time

Last month I was in Vegas for work, again, and I wrote down these thoughts near the end of my trip. I think it about sums it up.

People everywhere all the time, with children! Babies! Multiples!  Less porn card flicking on the streets than I remember. I wonder if these two things are connected. Less dinging noises overall when in the casinos—from the slot machines that is. Am I imagining that or is it a fact? Vegas needs to recycle, but I’m sure people don’t want to be bothered with real-world problems like that when in the MOST UNNATURAL PLACE ON EARTH. You only need to eat twice a day: breakfast and dinner. And eating eventually begets ennui. Flip-flops are not the best for walking. Everything is farther away than it seems. Even white women can get ashy. Eye drops are a necessity. Water is a precious resource; hey let’s waste it in a fountain that shoots off daily every half hour! Some people really don’t care what they look like in public. How do these street hawkers end up in those jobs? More people in character costumes on the streets, working for photos and tips. Spotted: Wolverine, Minion, Olaf everywhere, Elsa, showgirls, Captain America, Iron Man, scary Chewbacca. Endless flow of people means endless flow of money. The service workers look tired. Roulette is an easy game you can play for an hour. Even the old, thick cocktail waitresses have to wear boob- and ass-bearing costumes. They blatantly stick ‘le’ in front of words just so they sound French to the average person. I’m ready to go home.

Something has got to change

 I think I'm in the middle of some kind of life crisis. I just turned 39, I've been in the same job for 10 1/2 years, I hate where I live, don't want to move back to where I came from. In a word, I'm stuck. I have the sort of job that is difficult to explain to people outside the industry--and I've never worked anywhere else professionally. And every day lately I dread going to work, because it never stops. It's like if you opened a fire hydrant and had to stand there and let the water blast you full-force in the face. Everyday. And I'm tired. So tired. 

What is my next move? So many options of things to change, but I'm stymied by choice, and the chain of events those choices will start. Yet I've got to move myself forward out of this downward spiral, somehow. Gone are the days when I could just quit a job and move. And fuck expectation--the only people I want to consider in my choices are my husband and my child; no one else matters. I have fewer friends these days, I watch as everyone around me gets older and FUCK it means I'm getting older too, much too fast. The weekdays slowly drift by and I drink wine and watch TV at night, because the weekends are over before they start and I can't ever relax, I just want to be in a cocoon sometimes. I just don't want to go back to work! I can't take a day off, much less a real vacation; it's very much expected that you are tied to your job, and I fight that as much as possible, but it's not always possible. I'm tired of the problems and bullshit, tired of feeling like everyone's dog. Tired, tired, tired.

Man it's horrible to keep living the same life once you've decided you're done with it. But baby steps and I'll get there...

Do you know what it means? Watching Treme, the Final Season

Just finished watching the final season of Treme. Man, that show gets so much right. The power of the entire thing kinda snuck up on me during these last five episodes, and I was literally in tears during the last episode over the tragic beauty of it all. (Ok maybe I'd also had too much wine during Episode 5.)

It's that tension between having an authentic culture, and having that culture also be a tourist attraction, and needing that culture to be who you are and for your livelihood. That tension between wanting to live your life in a city, and having happy moments torn open by random violence at a parade. Between trying to do good work in a place infested with corruption; being a part of a culture that is simultaneously enveloping and familial, yet dismissed as niche and quaint from a national perspective.

David Simon may be a commercial failure in terms of his ability to attract viewership, but IMO he is a fucking genius. The Wire is a work of art, and Treme is amazing for many of the same reasons. He has this ability to see the nuances at play when these kinds of tensions are acting upon us, infecting our culture, our cities, our families, our identities. Maybe Treme is more relate-able for me because I spent my formative years in New Orleans; maybe the references are too 'in', the struggles too specific, the music too loose for the show to have mass appeal. But therein lies the genius of Treme. David Simon was never going to create a show about New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina that was going to be popular, y'all.

I was going to post a video but it came in upside down, so I'll end with a direct quote from DJ Davis:

"Do you know how sometimes you hear a song that you've heard a million times before, and maybe you're even tired of hearing it, but this time, maybe because of something you've been through, or maybe because of something you now understand, you hear that song again. Maybe it's a new version; maybe not. But you realize there's a fresh world in there to be heard? Yeah, me too."

Thank you, David Simon, for the love letter you wrote for New Orleans, that city I used to love to hate, and now I hate to love.

Is Cinderella going to eat my daughter? If so, when?

I've been reading the book, Cinderella Ate My Daughter, off and on during my work travels. My daughter recently turned 2.5, and at the moment, she seems very far away from identifying with the girlie/pink/princess phenomenon that seems to claim everyone's daughters (more or less) by the time they turn three. In fact, she's inordinately obsessed with PURPLE. So, I await the coming transformation with trepidation. I am eternally grateful that this book exists, because like the author (Peggy Orenstein), I wasn't raised on Pretty Pink Princess bullshit because it didn't exist until the 1990s. My sister, who is nearly 10 years my junior, came into being during the height of the PPP bullshit, however, so I feel like I lived through it, even if it wasn't my childhood. I remember watching The Little Mermaid with her until we both had the lines memorized; ditto Beauty and the Beast. But even back then, you didn't walk into a store and have all of the 'girl' stuff so readily segregated by color.

I reject and resent the pink fascism that pervades today, but because I don't want my daughter to become obsessed with it because of my rejection, I try to be neutral about the whole thing. At the local yogurt shop, they have a choice--green or pink spoons--and our little girl has picked the GREEN SPOON countless times, which I am secretly proud of. She even carries it around with her like some sort of totemic object, and rejects the pink spoons out of hand. GREEN SPOON is in the fist on the way to daycare, with her all day long, and then in the bath and bed with her at night. The pink spoons? They live a largely cloistered life inside of her PINK kitchen set (a gift from my PPP mother).

Do little girls really prefer pink or is it now stuffed down their throats? I'm afraid all evidence points to the latter, my friends. Pink as a color was originally more identified with infant boys because of its close link to red, a dominant color. However even in our modern, open-minded times, the color-coded messages and behaviors associated to your gender are ever-restrictive in the aisles of Target: blue is for boys, pink is for girls. End of discussion.

By accident of birth and circumstance, my angelic daughter has found herself the only girl in her daycare classroom. I read in the book that girls and boys self-segregate around this time, and even when they would play together, teachers don't recognize/promote this behavior, and so it doesn't really develop. But my daughter is the only girl in a class of 4 boys; does this phase her? No. She immediately starts racing cars with the boys in the morning, or running races back and forth across the classroom; or instructing them on how to use the potty ("Up?" she said as a fellow playmate stepped up to the potty, referring to the lid).

Will being the only girl in a class of boys stave off the PPP phenomenon for a time? Probably. I think a lot of that shit is actually started by girls' parents, who want their daughters to participate in it. And then other girls pick it up from their PPP classmates...and the cycle continues. I'm not saying my daughter is immune to the PPP, and it may even be good for her to go through a girly phase...but if and when that does occur, it's going to be hard for me to stomach. I just want her to explore whatever she likes, and I don't want her imagination to be quashed by being submitted to too many pre-determined playbooks via stories, movies, etc. I want her to invent her own!

The bigger thing to fear in this day and age, perhaps, is the INTERNET and the social media within and around it. I've been a member of Facebook for many years now, but I was raised and came to adulthood in an environment before Facebook existed. I worry that the artificial construct of the psyche that Facebook creates in all of us is going to be the downfall of polite society, period. Or, if handled properly, maybe the future will be full of savvy internet types who are able to communicate their hopes and dreams more eloquently than mine ever could...maybe. Here is one quote that stood out for me from the aforementioned book:

"The self...becomes a brand, something to be marketed to others rather than developed from within. Instead of intimates with whom you interact for the sake of the exchange, friends become your consumers, an audience for whom you perform."

Yeah, that shit's scary, and it's happening now, to all of us. Just imagine how it will affect our babies and toddlers in the coming years.