It is a strange time we live in.
I feel as though culturally I’m still expected to pay for meals on a date, and yet when I make the attempt I’m made out to be an asshole because it sets up the expectation of sex, because of course, I couldn’t just be a gentleman. They don’t exist anymore.
We are in desperate need of more male role models, but we can’t have them around our kids because they might do something bad with our kids. We’ve villified all our would-be heroes.
I can’t go near a playground, because of course I couldn’t just want to play. There is no innocence left for men. (Just look at our prisons, or our politics…)
I’m expected to “man-up” from the moment I’ve entered the world, until the day I die like a man for country and for honor, as though any man that ever died in any other way, was less of a man because of it.
There is no pain allowed any man from which we might cry out in agony. There are no tears made for men. There are no feelings.
What then am I? If I have both a prick and a heart?
What then am I? If I want to play and to love, truly, madly, deeply, wildly even?
I was attacked once for being a gentleman, and by that I mean a gentle man, and by that I must mean, not a man at all. For what is a man but not gentle.
So many words now, so many words, for feelings that never had any words before…
So many words…