So…There’s this girl.

Rarely, do I indulge the notion of “love at first sight”–all men do at some point. The simple concept that any woman can ensnare our imagination based on simple physical features, is the cliche in the “mating game” or “rules of attractions”.(for you James Vanderbeek fans) Heaven forbid any man, too preoccupied with drowning in this sea of pointless pussy; finally meets his Cleopatra–his detached opposite, yet their union completes one another.

We I see an attractive female I immediately study her–really I just fan of women, in general. I collect all the “kiss the cook” merchandise, I listen to all their albums; wear the “I’m with stupid ” novelty apparel and keep all the sappy valentines day candy and cards until it is not longer cute, anymore.

I hate the feeling  of the “missed opportunity” moment when I’m stricken with the impression; there could have been something but the feeling passes like a Snapchat story. She meet someone, else. And the romanticized carnival ride of us together in Venice Beach: fades into the self-loathing highlight reel.

I recently met and she is like a female version of me. Witty, funny, not of trace of narcissistic tendency, neither a obsession with making her plumper by hovering one ass-cheek  over the bathroom sink, while taking a selfie. The fours words that best describe her: the girl next door. She makes me excited and afraid at the same time. Normally, people gravitate to me and I decide if they are cool enough to be on the V.I.P list; but, with her it’s different. Maybe, it is because I met anyone from such a rich ethnic background; maybe it’s because she has the same type of  humor; hell, maybe it’s because she from New York–the city I always spray paint my own insignia on subway train.

A vacuum in time and space opens up and sucks me in, closer and closer in her direction and I don’t even know if I’m just another random dude, friend, business association, colleague etc…

For the first time, I have someone to talk to without dumbing-down my lingo; and all I want to do is put my car in park and watch the stars. I know I don’t own her–never been my style, anyway. I just want remember what it is like to talk to a female that has more on the brain Mascara and Twitter followers.

What’s her name you ask?

See…there’s this Girl.

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The most dangerous animal

Man-made dogma

    Man is god and vice versa, at least that’s what we as men would like to believe. To be in control, to be all-knowing, to be omnipotent; to truly be the lord of all he surveys . See also The Male Disease. I talked about our obsession with male authority and being conditioned  to act like other men, is the catalyst of our inevitable downfall. But, that’s not the whole truth. The truth coincides with our incubated selective ignorance about ourselves and roles we play in the world. Men, try as we might, can’t escape the undeniable truth, of being in control without be controlling, shaping a reality without the necessity of physical violence; to navigate the sublime differences of the fairer sex without resorting to violating her body, both physical and sexually.

        A man’s true test lies not in the conquering new avenues in the business world, nor quenching the thirst of the male ego, nor the slaying  of the furriest and wettest of his female counterpart’s nether regions, in mass volume. No. The test is himself. Mastery of himself. However, mastery begins with alleviating self-deception.

 Gods of the new world.

              ” I mean, I’m just tired of being wrong all the time just because I’m a guy. I mean how many times can everybody tell you that you’re the oppressive, prejudiced enemy before you give up and become the enemy.

     I mean a male, chauvinist pig isn’t born, he’s made, and more and more of them are being made by women. After long enough you just rollover and accept the fact that you’re a sexist, bigoted, insensitive, crude, cretinist cretin. Women are right. You’re wrong. You get used to the idea. You lived down to expectations. Even if the shoe doesn’t fit, you’ll shrink to fill it. I mean, in a world without god aren’t mothers the new god? The last sacred unassailable position. Isn’t motherhood the last perfect magical miracle? But a miracle isn’t possible for men, and maybe men say they’re glad not to give birth, all the pain and blood, but really that’s so much sour grapes. For sure, men can’t do anything near as incredible. Upper body strength, abstract thought, phalluses-any advantage men appear to have are pretty token. You can’t hammer a nail with a phallus. Women are already born so far ahead ability-wise. The day a man can give birth, that’s when we can start talking about equal rights.”

                                                                             Chuck Palahniuk.  Choke

It’s so true, man is own worse enemy; we’re chasing a shadow: called woman. It’s no wonder the notoriety on the rise of rape culture awareness is at an all-time high, but it’s nothing new. The so-called early settlers ravaged the current United States, with war and disease, and they raped. They raped the women indigenous to this land, and the children, being reject from both cultures, were made either into slaves or glorified tour guides. Helping the barbarian settlers navigate the through the Louisiana Territory.

In the 18th Century, a madame had no choice but to become a prostitute, if she was defiled early during her courtship. Just like that, thrown out on the street because she wanted intimacy before the appropriate time. The typical calling card of a terrified man: Violated by one man, ridiculed and persecuted by stranger; abandoned by another man; abused/ murder by another. (i.e. Jack the Ripper).

Rape is supposed be about establishing power and dominance over women, and with I find really humorous, not the rape but the fact that the poor fuck is trying to regain something, he never had to begin with. At that’s what the crime shows broadcast. All the truly horrific sex crimes are almost always perpetrated by men. Men, whom have been emasculated by mother or an old girlfriend. Men, whom don’t possess the social iquity to decipher between “playing hard to get” and “just saying no”. Men, whom mind has been poisoned into thinking that his must find into egocentric archetype, in order to be considered important.

     The veil of Macheesmo.

Women are god’s gift to the world: elegant, radiant; excelling in every avenue they put their minds–last but not least, child birth. A feat that men can never out due, not matter, how many points he scores, yachts he owns, novels he has written; trophies he has won, women he sleeps with; men he is in charge of and records he has a broken. All these accolades, pales in comparison, to bringing another life into this world. Thus, man must excel in all his endeavors in order to match the worth of a woman; Rockstars in theory; patronized man-child in reality.

“Masculinity is not about being the biggest, the fastest, the strongest, the one who sleeps with the most girls, and the one who has the most money. The one who has the most accomplishments is not the most masculine. In fact, it is often the men who covet these things most who are covering and compensating for the greatest insecurities. Let us revere the one who loves others deeply, loves himself deeply, and has a dream that he is inspired to live with and by and through. He is a man.

He does not stand unmoved or untouched in the face of truly moving experiences.

He does not judge the totality of his life or anyone else’s life by the totals on the scoreboard as the clock ticks down to zero.

He does not use money as a proxy for emotional connection nor material possessions as the measure of his self-worth.

He does not define his manhood by the number of women he has conquered.

He does not always fight fire with fire; sometimes he doesn’t need to fight at all.

He does not meet seriousness with silliness when it is seriousness that is required.

He does not take risks for risks’ sake, because he does not hide from his frailty, his mortality, or his humanity.

He does not pretend to know everything about anything, nor is he afraid to admit when he knows nothing about something.

And perhaps most important of all, he does not walk around thinking he’s The Man.

No, the masculine man goes through a journey, a process of self-discovery, and figures out what he needs to do to acquire the tools, knowledge, wisdom, grace, love, passion, and joy to pursue his destiny. His destiny is his dreams. Those may evolve over time, but in their pursuit, he is not breaking down anyone else or hurting anyone else. He is not at war with other people, conquering them. He is the one joining forces, searching for the win-win. He is the one who is lifting others up, inspiring others through his journey and his own process (in which he is finding ways to create value along the way). He is the hero of his own journey. And in so being, he is looking for every way to have the best relationships possible with his family, friends, his romantic partner, his colleagues, or his customers. He’s finding ways to be the best possible version of himself.

Masculinity is about discovering yourself and owning what you find. It’s about being kind to others, and pursuing your dreams with all the passion and energy you can muster. It’s about doing something that is meaningful to you that brings value to others. That’s how you build a legacy.”
― Lewis Howes, TheMask of Masculinity. 

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