Boy

One pet peeve of mine is women who refer to men as "boys." I hate when they do that. Like "I saw this boy the other day" or "I'm going out with a boy tonight." or "Are there any cute boys there?" My experience of women who call men boys is that they don't like men very much, and appear to have a problem with them (and with themselves). They'll deny it, of course, but in their daily lives, I think it's borne out.

I've seen it enough times to wonder if there's a correlation, even if this is utterly unscientific. The women I've seen use that term aren't able to form stable, lasting, healthy relationships, are perennially unhappy, are neurotic as hell, and are generally threatened by men -- it comes out in things they say and do. I think there's a perhaps half-conscious put-down inherent in calling men "boys," or seeing them as boys -- or, maybe there's a level of immaturity in these women themselves that makes them feel threatened by the term "man" and prefer the pert "boy" term, instead. A kind of projection of their own immaturity onto guys.

Grown women can be girly -- that's nice, sure. But grown women aren't girls; they're WOMEN. And, by the same turn, grown men aren't boys. Sure, a man can be boyish, and a man can be childish (just as a woman can be childish, too) -- I've known old people who are immature, crazily enough.

But give "boy" a rest, why don't you? Seriously, the ones I've seen use that term are emotional basket cases. It's just odd to me, because I've seen it used by a whole generation of women (or are they girls?) It's endemic in the generations after mine. Somewhere down the line, "man" was blackballed in the culture, and there's a generation of guys out there who feel compelled to apologize for being men -- maybe those are the "boys" those "girls" are wanting.

To me, it's just so off-putting. I immediately think badly of a woman who uses that term for guys. It's instinctive, but it's there, all the same. I respect a woman who is confident enough in herself to want a man, and not a boy, and who can see a man as a man, and appreciate him as one.

It's one thing for women to call themselves girls, or men to call themselves boys; they're allowed to. But when it crosses the aisle, it rankles. It just feels off for a guy to say "Are there any nice girls there?" It's an affectation, it's insulting, it's lame.

So, guys, if a woman sees you as a "boy," look out. That one's trouble, and it's not going to go well for you.

Self-Love

Someone said that you should never love somebody else more than you love yourself, and that sounded like wisdom to me, until I thought about it more. On one hand, sure, I get it: If you love somebody more than they love you, you're toast, because that person'll rake you over the coals, will take advantage of your love, and you'll be hurt, possibly badly. That above caveat is like the creed of a gunslinger -- the "kill or be killed" School of Love.

In my own case, I loved someone I couldn't possibly love more than she loved herself. And I really, really tried to make her happy, not realizing for years that you can't really make somebody happy; either they're happy with themselves (and happy with you) or they're not. But I made it work as best as I was able, and because of that asymmetrical relationship, I found myself getting progressively unhappier over time (magnified when kids were factored into the mix), without (at first) understanding why.

It took real soul-searching (so to speak) to realize that, yes, I had my own happiness to factor into the equation, that making her happy couldn't be my only mission in life without being a dead end, and me ending up a husk of humanity -- there had to be reciprocity in the mix, which simply wasn't there: she was happy to take all that I could give, and gave next to nothing in return. And when I'd try to bring that up, I'd catch heat for it, like it was somehow illegitimate of me to expect reciprocity in a relationship.

So, yeah, I understand that axiom above -- you can definitely get into trouble if you love someone more than you love yourself. But that's how I would view it: more of a caution sign than a road map, because if you start out with that in your head, you're going to miss out on a good or even great thing. It's like explaining a painting to someone instead of just looking at it with them; it's all head, no heart -- or the heart is protected behind concentric walls of emotional fortification in a labyrinthine construct: love gets lost in such a place.

You've got Cupid as an accountant on your shoulder, ensuring that, lovewise, you're always in the black. But red is the color of love, not black! To find love, true and worthy love, you have to risk going into the red, emotionally. You have to find somebody who appreciates you, makes you happy, makes you feel good, and be willing to love and appreciate them in return. Yes, you have to be cognizant of the nature of the person, so you don't end up with somebody who'll hurt you -- but you also have to be willing/able to understand how precious love is to be willing to risk it.

Love can't be safe; if you hold back, if you hold yourself in reserve, if emotional safety is your primary consideration, you're going to hobble what love you find, what love you can even feel. You'll end up with a person who might fit the checklist your brain has come up with for an acceptable love, but without the passion and romance and trust and joy that comes from a true and powerful love.

Just as there's a risk in being burned, so is there a positive feedback loop in reciprocity -- if you find someone who appreciates you-as-you, who loves you and makes you happy (and wants to make you happy), that's a treasure -- enjoy the ride.

But if you pause while basking in the glow and think "Huh. Am I loving this person too much? Should I hold myself in reserve, for fear of losing myself in this wonderfulness?" If you get cold feet, you're lost. There is a transcendent joy in losing oneself in love -- in my experience, the more neurotic a person is, the more self-obsessed they are, the less capable they are of feeling joy -- and joy is a key component of love. And, big shock: those folks have a perilous and fleeting relationship with love (and joy, for that matter), and are unhappy people because of it.

To bring an Epicurean slant to this, it's like having this glorious feast on the table before you, and you're fretting about eating too much, or how many calories are in the roast beast, or whether you should use the salad fork first, or whether that's gluten-free bread, and who'll be stuck doing the dishes later -- from my vantage point, there's a feast in front of you? Dig in! Enjoy! Feel the love! Savor it. Treasure it.

The "Are We There Yet?" School of Love spoils the whole trip. You're in love? Enjoy the ride, take in the scenery. Have fun. Don't fret the mileage, the road conditions, the traffic. Just enjoy. That's how a Romantic does it, anyway. Life can be a dirge or a dance. Which one's more fun, hmm?