You gotta love the male ego sometimes, so fragile yet so often full of itself. I am, at this very moment, sitting in the park, trying to show appreciation for my dear friend summer in hopes she will not allow sister autumn to send her packing too soon. It’s a luscious scene: frothy waterfalls, a canopy of green trees, and beds of beautifully landscaped pink and white peonies. They even pipe jazz through the speakers to amplify the relaxation quotient. It’s my favorite place in the city to write: just me, my laptop, my smooth tunes, and my little slice of Eden.
Being here makes me giddy and hence, even friendlier than I already am, so when I looked up to take in the prettiness enveloping me, I smiled at the dude who has parked his keister at the table next to mine. He adds zero value to the splendor around us, but hey, neither do I.
As I flashed him a grin of acknowledgment and said a courteous “hi,” he quickly averted eye contact and threw enough shade to make me believe, if I didn’t know any better, that we’ve skipped fall and gone straight to winter.
This isn’t the first time little discourtesies like this have happened. Actually, it’s not even the third or fourth or fifth. So allow me this moment to relieve the guys here in the fabulous metropolitan District of Columbia of what appears to be the presence of constant worry: there might be lots of hype about a man shortage in our community and there is a rank and file of chicks who are on the prowl for husbands, but that does not mean that every woman who acknowledges you wants your sadiddy tail. It doesn’t even mean that we find all of you particularly attractive.
Sometimes, believe it or not, we’re just being nice for the sake of being nice. Take it at face value and nothing more. As if.
We spend a lot of time fluffing and propping and building our boys up to believe they’re the best thing since the frosted cupcake, but there are dudes aplenty who are free and clear to breathe easy that I will never, ever try to kick off a pick-up line or pelt them with attempts to holler. I mean, I wouldn’t do it anyway—I’m just not that girl, no matter how many Cosmo articles I read—but I definitely wouldn't when it comes to:
1. The guy who doesn’t smile and acknowledge a gal’s innocent greeting on a perfectly lovely late summer afternoon.
2. The guy who’s more groomed and coiffed than I am.
3. The guy who doesn’t hold doors or offer seats to ladies in a waiting room or on public transportation.
4. The guy who wears those little manties when he’s out jogging or working out in public (scratch that—even owning them in general is a problem).
5. The guy who litters.
6. The guy who doesn’t like to admit he’s wrong and gets all in his feelings when he’s presented with information that proves he’s off-base and still refuses to concede.
7. The guy who doesn’t think a woman could possibly know more football or basketball trivia than he does (I’ve seen whole arguments break out over this one).
8. The guy who treats waitstaff like brown stuff on the bottom of his shoe.
9. The guy who has to think too long about the dates of his kids’ birthdays or how old the children even are. Deadbeat alert.
10. The guy who still thinks grabbing a woman’s arm and hitting her with a corny come-on is the adult way to make a love connection.
And again, the guy who doesn’t smile and acknowledge a gal’s innocent greeting on a perfectly lovely late summer afternoon. Yeah, he’s safe.
What kind of man would you never, ever, never, ever, ever give the time of day?
Image via NMR Photo/Flickr