Old fashioned, traditionally bred males who wear T-shirt and jeans, have (sometimes) messy hair and know how to shoot, drive a truck and change a flat are manly men. Males who sport the latest Prada specs, drive Smart Cars, wear embroidered blouses or occupy Wall Street, are not.

A bit of a blanket statement? Yes, it is. But before I met my husband, I dated a lot, I’m speaking from experience.
I lived in D.C. during the Clinton years. This was before environmentally chic men descended on the nations capital, but even back then, there was scarcely a manly man to be found and I was forced to date liberal men and foreign men for five years. Men with salon (not barbershop) hair, skinny jeans, an Italian shoe collection and of course, the latest Prada specs.
Even if the glazed hair hadn’t given them away, these men were easily identifiable because within the first hour of conversation, they would divulge their support for women’s rights. I’m not sure why I needed to hear this from near strangers…Maybe liberal gals want to know that stuff upfront so progressive males make a point to mention their pro-choice stance. Either that or these guys were just shamelessly wookin’ pa nub and confessing their admiration for the morning after pill ahead of time.
There was a very gentlemanly liberal guy that I spent some time with as an undergrad. But he was absolutely on fire for gay rights. When we were playing tennis he was talking about gay rights. Eating and talking about gay rights…Watching Schindler’s List on the couch and talking about gay rights. Weird. Anyone who can talk about gay rights during Schindler’s list has issues. Perhaps he was trying to convert me, but I was just getting irritated. Although, on a positive note, he did introduce me to the Dave Matthews Band and I was able to go to his first sold out concert in Virginia.
I’m not saying that all progressive men are slightly feminine. I’m simply stating that from my own experience that conservative males make for better partners. As someone who’s been chased to her front door by a drunk stranger after midnight, I’m telling you that being married to a lifetime NRA member definitely has it’s advantages.
As for the foreign males…I was at a club in Athens with my brother in 2006. The place was packed. Even standing room was hard to find and there was a line out the door. But, I was the only natural blonde in the city, so the bouncer motioned us in. Nice.
We got a drink and went over to the dance floor to people watch. We found ourselves talking to the two Spaniards standing next to us. They had puzzled looks on their faces as they surveyed the dance floor. "This place is very strange" one Spaniard said to me and my brother. "Why do the men not ask the women to dance???"
We looked over to find that all the Greek men were dancing with each other instead of the women. Now, this was not a gay bar yet the men were on one side dancing very close together, while the women were all standing nearby, watching, hopeful looks on their olive complexions. Strange indeed.
Several years prior, the Turkish fella I was dating was in my car with me. He liked it when I would drive him around. I should have known then that he wasn’t for me. I hadn’t realized my folly until a head on collision happened right in front of us.
I was pulling out of my apartment complex and a little red Honda civic was hit by another larger car. The tiny Asian girl driver was thrown from her civic. I slammed on the breaks, put my car in park, told the Turk to dial 911, and headed for the girl. I covered her with my coat and held her head while waiting for the paramedics. It was nearly fifteen minutes. The poor thing was crying, dying in my palms, and I couldn’t do anything but hold her still and reassure her that she was going to be fine as bodily fluids exited her mouth and tears wet her hair in my hands.
Finally, the EMT arrived. I watched them carefully load the young woman into the Ambulance and drive away. I didn’t know her name or even where they were taking her, or if she could have possibly made it.
I went back to my car to find the Turk. Sulking. Shouting something about being forced to see all of that and being upset about it. It seemed that young girl ruined his day and he was angry. I couldn’t believe that I was dating such a self-consumed spoiled brat. She probably died, all he could think about was his own distress.
In April, I went to Thailand to see a friend. She studied in the U.S. from prepschool on and we had been roommates. The first thing I wanted to do when I arrived was to go to a nice grocery store. I love to cook, and being overseas allows one to buy unique spices and items that aren’t imported to the U.S. I stock piled Tom Yum soup mix, Thail green chili curry spices, and everything I’d need to make great Pad Thai at home. While we were at the store, my buddy wanted to show me all of the funny popular male beauty enhancers that are commonplace in Thailand.
She handed me a bottle of "Mansome" a collagen drink for men to look beautiful. Too bad nobody bothered to investigate the fact that collagen does nothing if ingested, so basically, the collagen juice that cost $5 is worthless. But it’s popular there. Thai men like to be pretty.
After a week of touring Bangkok and meeting more European unmales in Phuket (too many Italians in Speedos), I couldn’t wait to get home to my own caveman.
Perhaps there are females who’d quickly dismiss a male that sprays himself with doe urine in order to bring a buck home for dinner. But the fact is that I’ll probably never go hungry. We’re having goose for Thanksgiving next week, and there are two kegs of beer downstairs that my man brewed himself.
Liberal women can have their progressive guys who consider themselves enlightened. They can keep their electric cars, Remington-free and low carbon footprint homes, couples mani-pedi’s and share unisex cologne. I’d rather have a tough guy.
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