EMASCULATING MY MEN BY ACCIDENT

I read a magazine article recently that stated “men are the new women”. How confusing! This insinuates that women are the new men…so does this make my boyfriend my girlfriend?

This epiphany came when I was dating someone recently. I really pursued this guy – he was gorgeous, soft-spoken, and intelligent (at least I think he was intelligent – he was very quiet). He never took initiative – I had to call and ask him to go out, I had to plan where we would go, I had to seduce him. We took a weekend in Connecticut, and it was me renting the car and driving along foreign highways, not really knowing where I was going but heading North. After three days, I was tired of calling the shots. Just once I wanted him to make a decision. Just once I wanted him to be the boy. When I told him I was having doubts about us, he was again completely passive and said ‘All right, if that’s how you feel.’ Wait a minute – wasn’t my ‘knight in shining armor’ supposed to fight for me, I wondered? At least a little bit?

I am confused. My friends are confused. The tables have certainly turned in the past 40-odd years since the feminist movement began and roles started to blur. Nowadays, we demand equal opportunity in the boardroom, but does this mean we no longer deserve a gentleman to hold the door open and pay for dinner? Does this mean we have to be the aggressors?

Today’s men complain about being displaced. They plead for emotional intimacy from their career-driven, non-committal girlfriends who need so much personal space that they won’t even stay overnight. Men are confused about what’s expected of them now that women make their own money and buy their own right-handed diamond rings that state: "I am my own wife!"

I must admit that I unintentionally emasculate my boyfriends. They start off strong and emotionally stable, and then descend into a vague madness that turns them into a weeping, pleading mess. (Then again, I do gravitate towards the sensitive artist types.) I’ve had high-maintenance girly-boyfriends who have plaintively cried, “You don’t love me,” on a daily basis. If only I had a dollar for every time I heard, “You send my laundry out, but you don’t embrace me enough, A...”

Personally, I have always tried to mold myself into the type of girlfriend that I thought guys really wanted: a woman requiring very little emotional maintenance. I learned at an early age to take care of my own needs (unless of course, there is a sizable crawling insect in the apartment). I refuse to nag for even half a second. I would rather end it than ask him to change his core personality. I don't really like to cuddle. It’s true that I am guilty of squirming out of the death-grip, mumbling, "Please get off me." Public displays of affection are FORBIDDEN – I find it gross.

But I do fuss over my men to make sure they are eating properly and getting enough sleep, and I am good with home remedies if anyone has a stomachache. I have been known to make a late night pot of tea, and very soon they can’t live without my advice and soothing touch. I write a lot of love poems that immortalize my relationships and I’ve found that every guy secretly wants someone to write about him…the way girls date musicians so they’ll write songs about them.

I always thought I must be a pretty good girlfriend because no one has ever broken up with me. I’m always the one who leaves. But then I realized that I might have a slight problem with commitment that sabotages things. By playing out the more masculine role, I may be creating an imbalance that ultimately causes the relationship to end because at heart I am a woman who wants to have the door held open for me and to be taken care of in an old-fashioned way.

Are we sending mixed signals? We say, “Darling, please carry this for me, it’s too heavy…” and then haul the 30” television up the stairs ourselves if he takes too long to do it.

Our mothers fought so hard for equal rights that they almost took it too far, and though we are embarrassed by the stigma they left of burning bras and angry demonstrations, we took on their beliefs. We were raised equal to our brothers, we wore pants and climbed trees and prepared for college. We took the low-hormone birth control pill and learned to be in control of our sexual power. We watched our parents divorce, and swore never to be a victim, to never get hurt like that. And then, of course, we fell in love and had our first heartbreak, and we did get hurt like that. Then we vowed to never be so vulnerable again.

Underneath it all, I want a man to sweep me off my feet with his dashing manner and also be able to fix my computer. To leave me alone when I need quiet, and not berate me when I come in very late. To open my car door first, so I can then reach over and unlock his before we drive off into the sunset. I don’t mind being the boy, but I also want to be the girl sometimes. I guess they call that having my cake and eating it too.