I have to write this from the dude POV, because, well...I'm a dude, and that is somewhat critical to the premise of this post. So there's that.
Anyway...
The TV was on the other morning, because the Wee Lass was here. I was listening to it while doing a little web-based chore minding, and a commercial came on for a car insurance company. At the end of the commercial the perky (and if I'm being honest, cute) spokeswoman says to the dancing guy dressed up as dollar signs, "Really, go, honey, it's your break!".
Something about the word "honey" in her mouth made me sit up and take notice. I felt a twinge of light-headedness and realized that, for all my facades of dude-ness, I like it when a woman calls me "Honey".
Or "Sugar". Or "Sweetie". (sigh) I'm such a violin.
I know in the current climate of Political Correctness and Gender Distinction Awareness and Avoidance of (possibly) Patronizing Forms of Address Awareness, it can be a slippery slope to use terms of endearment in a public venue and addressed to someone we barely know or do not know at all. That's why I don't do it with women I do not know, and rarely if ever in a public setting with women I do not know well or only in a professional* sense. It's best for everyone, that way. Especially if you ask the legal folks in human resources.
But when I hear it applied to me in a more informal setting (the office is not such a place) like a restaurant or in a store...I usually get that puppy-dog sensation in my gut and I immediately relax a little. I think its because I grew up in a different climate of male-female relations, one that was further along than most of the neanderthal-ish antics I remember hearing about from my elders (and which have not completely disappeared today), but certainly a little more traditional than today. That was a time when it was much more common in my experience to hear those terms bandied back and forth and no one, male or female, thought much of it.
As I have evolved, and as things have changed, I realize that we all have to be much more careful about how casual we treat others, especially when affection can too easily be misconstrued for disrespect. I certainly don't advocate calling colleagues "darlin'" or "honey" (male or female) in business meetings or in places where focus and respect are key to getting things done.
But sometimes? I don't mind being called "Hon" or "Sugar", especially when I can tell someone is being nice because nice is the normal way to be.
And when it comes from the lips of someone you love? Well, that's just the cat's meow.
*Note: By 'professional' I mean in a career or workplace-based setting, not in the informal slang of a (ahem) prostitute. Get your heads out of the gutter.
Showing posts with label nice guys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nice guys. Show all posts
29 August 2011
15 February 2009
Nice Guy Facing The Truth
Heart stood at the edge of the dock, bent over at the waist with elbows resting on the railing. He was massaging his temples while staring into the murky jade-colored water lapping the bulkhead at his feet. The surface rippled and bulged slightly, green metal sheet flecked with leaves and drifting puffs of goose down. His face bellied and warped as looking into a funhouse mirror. Every so often, his face would assume the proportion and outline like one in that painting by Edvard Munch. What was it, he strained to recall. Oh, The Scream. Heart smiled to think of the title. A scream, indeed, borne of the overload of thoughts in his head. He looked up and across the lake. On the far bank, amidst the low brush, Brother Heron appeared, head tilted down in an attitude of concentration as he searched for fish. Heart raised a hand in greeting. Heron didn’t move, and Heart wasn’t sure the bird had seen him. Heart put his head down.
A few breaths later, there was a swiisssh, and a splash over by the rock jetty just across from where Heart stood at the dock. He had one guess as to whom it was, and sure enough, Brother Heron stood there, wings folding up as one bright eye peered out from under the slight crest of feathers on his head. The wily bird took a moment to adjust a feather before speaking.
“Heart, nice day, yeah?”
Heart stood silent, blinking slowly at the bird. Heron spoke again.
“Uh, oh, looks like someone has a case of the Mondays!” and then he croaked the equivalent of a smart aleck laugh, rusty hinges on a gate.
Heart stared at the bird for the space of five heartbeats, and then slowly raised his right hand out in front of himself, middle finger upraised. The heron croaked again, and Heart broke into a helpless grin, laughing quietly. “Sorry, Brother, I’m a bit tired.”
“You getting enough sleep?” Heron asked.
“If you count thrashing around as sleep, yes. Otherwise, no, I’m exhausted.”
“Exercise?”
Heart laughed weakly, sweeping his hands down his sides in a “ta-da” gesture. “Does this sack of potatoes look buff to you?”
Brother Heron cocked his head from side to side for a moment, and then allowed as sacks of potatoes went, no, this one did not look buff. He gave the avian equivalent of a sigh.
“Well, it is nice day, even for a mope like you”, said Heron.
“Yeah, it is, even with that cool breeze. I am so fed up with winter, this seemed like an early opportunity to escape the cabin. Feeling wrung out.”
“I understand, bro. Gets that way out here sometimes, especially when there’s ice. Makes it hard to get the fish, you know? Plus, that icy water makes for chilly feet. Speaking of fish…”
Heron tilted his head and slowly lowered it to the water. Heart could see the faint outline of something just below the surface. Heron lanced forward like a swift-thrown spear and came up with a small fish in his beak. He quickly swallowed it and turned back to Heart.
“Nice catch!” said Heart.
“Thanks. So, what’s on your mind, O Eeyore?”
“Valentine’s Day was yesterday. And it always makes me wonder.”
“About…?”
“Love. Romance. Old girlfriends or lack thereof. And if being a nice guy really pays off.”
Heron considered this for a moment. “I don’t know if I can help you with that.”
Heart asked “Why’s that? You aren’t a nice guy?”
The bird clacked his beak. “Let’s just say my notions of romance are a little different. Being a bird, well, being romantic and nice and stuff don’t usually enter into it.”
Heart chewed on a thumbnail for a bit, and then said “Yeah, I get it. What I don’t get is how some people can put up with being treated like a second-class citizen by a partner, and not seem to realize who really respects them and, well, loves them.”
“I sense a raw nerve, am I right?” said Brother Heron.
Heart smiled. “Yeah, you could say that. For some reason I got to thinking about someone I used to know, someone I fell in love with a long time ago…” his voice trailed off as he stared blankly at the lake. Heron made a gesture in front of his beak, rubbing the tips of his wings together, and croaking his laugh.
Heart shook his head, asked “What was that for, Brother H?”
“World’s smallest violin, playin’ just for you…” he answered.
“Very funny, you schmuck. Now cut that out. I’m seriously ruminatin’ here.”
“Sorry, do carry on.” Heart swore he could see a grin on the bird’s face.
Out on the lake there was a sudden flurry of activity among the geese. There was some sort of fracas going on, involving three geese attempting to beat the stuffing out of each other. Water was spraying everywhere as the geese furiously chased one another in circles, their raspy honking sounding like bagpipes locked in a musical death match. Eventually, one of the geese, being the apparent loser, flapped away trying to look dignified. Its tormentors remained behind, honking angrily.
“What was that all about?” Heart asked Heron, looking bemused.
“Ah, those knuckleheads have been doing that all morning.”
“What were they saying? Any idea?”
“No” Heron replied, “I don’t know the Canadian dialect, beyond ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please come back later’ and ‘fuck off!’”
Heart laughed out loud. “Good to know, I suppose.”
Heron grew serious again. “So about this someone…?”
Heart rubbed his temples again, squinting against the breeze. “We were really good friends, spent a lot of time together. Sometimes on the weekends we were together more than she was with her boyfriend. We could talk about anything, we made each other laugh, and more than once I was the go-to shoulder when her boyfriend treated her like crap or ignored her. Which was often enough to be disturbing. And I fell in love with her.” Heart fell silent. “I never understood why she kept with him, kept going back to him even after horrible fights.”
“Did you say anything to her about that?” asked Heron. Heart considered this a moment.
“I did, on numerous occasions. And she kept telling me she loved him. The damndest thing, and I still don’t get it.”
“And when I told her I thought it was unfair, and I didn’t understand it, I couldn’t stop myself. I told her that I was in love with her. At which point she told me that she really liked me but she only thought of me as a friend.” Heart sighed heavily. Heron stood silent for a moment.
“Heart, why didn’t you just start acting like a dick?” the blue-green bird asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I just couldn’t. I mean, I tried it later, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, I ended up being a dick and I was alone. It never seemed right, and I always felt like a fraud. To really make it work, you have to not be aware of your…dickness…I guess. Most of the guys I saw acting that way always seemed to have girlfriends but they never seemed to acknowledge they were being assholes. Weird, and unsettling, to believe the only way I was going to get kissed, much less get laid, was to be an asshole.”
“I always had the feeling I was betraying myself when I acted that way.”
Heron asked, “So do you still want to be an asshole, now, just to get the women? Probably not, I’m thinking. Why would you want to be with someone who wanted to be with an asshole?”
Heart laughed. “No, and I don’t. For a bird, you are pretty wise, sometimes.”
Heron fluffed his wings in anticipation of takeoff. “Yeah, that’s what all the lady birds say.” He winked, sort of. He paused, crouching. “And you, my friend, can say that you stayed true. That’s worth something, whether you believe it or not,” he said and took off. Heart watched the bird grow small with distance. Truth, he muttered, truth is worth something.
It’s gotta be, said the man to the boy.
A few breaths later, there was a swiisssh, and a splash over by the rock jetty just across from where Heart stood at the dock. He had one guess as to whom it was, and sure enough, Brother Heron stood there, wings folding up as one bright eye peered out from under the slight crest of feathers on his head. The wily bird took a moment to adjust a feather before speaking.
“Heart, nice day, yeah?”
Heart stood silent, blinking slowly at the bird. Heron spoke again.
“Uh, oh, looks like someone has a case of the Mondays!” and then he croaked the equivalent of a smart aleck laugh, rusty hinges on a gate.
Heart stared at the bird for the space of five heartbeats, and then slowly raised his right hand out in front of himself, middle finger upraised. The heron croaked again, and Heart broke into a helpless grin, laughing quietly. “Sorry, Brother, I’m a bit tired.”
“You getting enough sleep?” Heron asked.
“If you count thrashing around as sleep, yes. Otherwise, no, I’m exhausted.”
“Exercise?”
Heart laughed weakly, sweeping his hands down his sides in a “ta-da” gesture. “Does this sack of potatoes look buff to you?”
Brother Heron cocked his head from side to side for a moment, and then allowed as sacks of potatoes went, no, this one did not look buff. He gave the avian equivalent of a sigh.
“Well, it is nice day, even for a mope like you”, said Heron.
“Yeah, it is, even with that cool breeze. I am so fed up with winter, this seemed like an early opportunity to escape the cabin. Feeling wrung out.”
“I understand, bro. Gets that way out here sometimes, especially when there’s ice. Makes it hard to get the fish, you know? Plus, that icy water makes for chilly feet. Speaking of fish…”
Heron tilted his head and slowly lowered it to the water. Heart could see the faint outline of something just below the surface. Heron lanced forward like a swift-thrown spear and came up with a small fish in his beak. He quickly swallowed it and turned back to Heart.
“Nice catch!” said Heart.
“Thanks. So, what’s on your mind, O Eeyore?”
“Valentine’s Day was yesterday. And it always makes me wonder.”
“About…?”
“Love. Romance. Old girlfriends or lack thereof. And if being a nice guy really pays off.”
Heron considered this for a moment. “I don’t know if I can help you with that.”
Heart asked “Why’s that? You aren’t a nice guy?”
The bird clacked his beak. “Let’s just say my notions of romance are a little different. Being a bird, well, being romantic and nice and stuff don’t usually enter into it.”
Heart chewed on a thumbnail for a bit, and then said “Yeah, I get it. What I don’t get is how some people can put up with being treated like a second-class citizen by a partner, and not seem to realize who really respects them and, well, loves them.”
“I sense a raw nerve, am I right?” said Brother Heron.
Heart smiled. “Yeah, you could say that. For some reason I got to thinking about someone I used to know, someone I fell in love with a long time ago…” his voice trailed off as he stared blankly at the lake. Heron made a gesture in front of his beak, rubbing the tips of his wings together, and croaking his laugh.
Heart shook his head, asked “What was that for, Brother H?”
“World’s smallest violin, playin’ just for you…” he answered.
“Very funny, you schmuck. Now cut that out. I’m seriously ruminatin’ here.”
“Sorry, do carry on.” Heart swore he could see a grin on the bird’s face.
Out on the lake there was a sudden flurry of activity among the geese. There was some sort of fracas going on, involving three geese attempting to beat the stuffing out of each other. Water was spraying everywhere as the geese furiously chased one another in circles, their raspy honking sounding like bagpipes locked in a musical death match. Eventually, one of the geese, being the apparent loser, flapped away trying to look dignified. Its tormentors remained behind, honking angrily.
“What was that all about?” Heart asked Heron, looking bemused.
“Ah, those knuckleheads have been doing that all morning.”
“What were they saying? Any idea?”
“No” Heron replied, “I don’t know the Canadian dialect, beyond ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please come back later’ and ‘fuck off!’”
Heart laughed out loud. “Good to know, I suppose.”
Heron grew serious again. “So about this someone…?”
Heart rubbed his temples again, squinting against the breeze. “We were really good friends, spent a lot of time together. Sometimes on the weekends we were together more than she was with her boyfriend. We could talk about anything, we made each other laugh, and more than once I was the go-to shoulder when her boyfriend treated her like crap or ignored her. Which was often enough to be disturbing. And I fell in love with her.” Heart fell silent. “I never understood why she kept with him, kept going back to him even after horrible fights.”
“Did you say anything to her about that?” asked Heron. Heart considered this a moment.
“I did, on numerous occasions. And she kept telling me she loved him. The damndest thing, and I still don’t get it.”
“And when I told her I thought it was unfair, and I didn’t understand it, I couldn’t stop myself. I told her that I was in love with her. At which point she told me that she really liked me but she only thought of me as a friend.” Heart sighed heavily. Heron stood silent for a moment.
“Heart, why didn’t you just start acting like a dick?” the blue-green bird asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I just couldn’t. I mean, I tried it later, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, I ended up being a dick and I was alone. It never seemed right, and I always felt like a fraud. To really make it work, you have to not be aware of your…dickness…I guess. Most of the guys I saw acting that way always seemed to have girlfriends but they never seemed to acknowledge they were being assholes. Weird, and unsettling, to believe the only way I was going to get kissed, much less get laid, was to be an asshole.”
“I always had the feeling I was betraying myself when I acted that way.”
Heron asked, “So do you still want to be an asshole, now, just to get the women? Probably not, I’m thinking. Why would you want to be with someone who wanted to be with an asshole?”
Heart laughed. “No, and I don’t. For a bird, you are pretty wise, sometimes.”
Heron fluffed his wings in anticipation of takeoff. “Yeah, that’s what all the lady birds say.” He winked, sort of. He paused, crouching. “And you, my friend, can say that you stayed true. That’s worth something, whether you believe it or not,” he said and took off. Heart watched the bird grow small with distance. Truth, he muttered, truth is worth something.
It’s gotta be, said the man to the boy.
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