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Posts Tagged ‘Men’

If you haven’t seen the Dove Real Beauty Sketches video, above, watch it — it’s fascinating.

The video — which has sparked some controversy — suggests that women are unfairly self-critical about their appearance.  They tend to describe themselves in a way that is much less flattering than others would describe them.  Why?  Could it be that women view themselves as being compared to some ludicrous standard of female perfection, and never quite measuring up . . . and therefore they downplay their own, true attractiveness?

Men don’t seem to have this problem.  Most men don’t seem to think that they should look like the models seen in Abercrombie & Fitch ads.  Why not?

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Yesterday’s wedding reception for Joe and Laura featured a DJ, a disco ball, and a spacious dance floor.  As a result, we were exposed to one of the worst recent wedding reception developments:  the Impenetrable Female Dancing Circle.

If you’ve been to a wedding in the last five years, you’ve probably seen an IFDC.  It forms when high-spirited young women forsake the need for a partner and rush the dance floor, forming a circle.  They bounce up and down and clap and do some secret dance unknown to anyone over age 30 while one circle member after another moves into the center to cut a rug.  The participation in the circle is 99% female; rare, indeed, is the Y-chromosomed human who has the confidence in his dancing ability to break into the circle.  And so the IFDC goes on and on, unbroken, a living thing, throbbing and shrieking as each new favorite song comes on.

So, what’s the problem?  Why should even a cranky and grizzled veteran of countless weddings care if young women want to band together, empower themselves, and proudly display their dancing chops?

The problem is this:  if you are a crappy dancer — and let’s face it, that description applies to the spastic dancing attempts of the vast majority of American males — you don’t want to try to break into an IFDC or, even worse, dance with your partner on the empty side of the floor, where your fitful and pathetic moves will be exposed for all chuckling wedding guests to see.  The great thing about a crowded dance floor is that it is crowded.  You and your partner can move into the center of the floor and meld into the mass of pulsing humanity so that your lame attempts to get down aren’t the subject of mass derision.

If you’re feeling in a celebratory mood at a wedding reception, therefore, the IFDC might just prevent you from fully expressing your joy with your patented shimmy and shake.  So c’mon, ladies — after you’ve formed that IFDC for a dance or two, break up, fill the floor, and let the rest of us find the dancing anonymity that we so desperately need!

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Our nephew is getting married early next year.  Today the women of the family are having a big bridal shower for his lovely fiancee.

http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/debstheleo/debstheleo0805/debstheleo080500075/3040337-pink-butterfly-place-setting-for-the-bride.jpgPredictably, no male — except perhaps an unlucky waiter — will be present for the affair.  In fact, if they have any say in the matter, neither the groom nor any man in the family will be anywhere in the vicinity during the shower or for a reasonable interval before and after.  Their Bridal Shower Avoidance Syndrome has kicked in with full, testosterone-laden force.

Why is this so?  Is the urge to avoid any event that features a pink color scheme or “finger sandwiches” linked to the Y chromosome?  Did the evolutionary processes that produced successful male hunter-gatherers also produce an instinctive aversion to squealing and tiny hand claps as a way of expressing glee?  Or, do men simply learn, through bitter experience from the earliest days of boyhood, that they really don’t the slightest idea what is “cute,” or what might be even “cuter” — and, in fact, they really don’t care one way or the other?

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It’s a story as old as the human race:  a powerful older married man has an affair with a younger woman, his indiscretions are discovered, and his career comes crashing down.

The latest example, of course, is former CIA director and four-star general David Petraeus, who resigned after his affair with his biographer, Paula Broadwell, was discovered.  Petraeus, 60, apparently began his affair with Broadwell, 40, shortly after he resigned from the Army, and the affair continued during his service as CIA director until it ended four months ago.  The affair became public when the FBI began investigating whether Broadwell had violated federal cyber-harassment laws by sending threatening anonymous e-mails to another woman.  During the investigation, the FBI traced the e-mails to Broadwell’s computer, where they found explicit and salacious e-mails between Petraeus and Broadwell that evidenced their affair.

Petraeus, who has been married to his wife Holly for 38 years, regrets his indiscretions and says he showed “extremely poor judgment” in having the affair.  No kidding!  He not only betrayed his vows to his long-time wife, he also could have jeopardized classified information given his critical role at the CIA and his access to top-secret information.  Fortunately for Petraeus and everyone else, there is no sign that his tryst with Broadwell compromised national security.

Why do some powerful older men act so stupidly and recklessly?  Is it vanity, or a belief that they are beyond reproach, or is it just that they aren’t thinking at all — at least, not with the right body parts?  After the public disclosure, and the ritual actions of apology and contrition by the disgraced individual are played out, it’s tough to ferret out what really motivates such actions.

It’s a lesson for the rest of us, too.  Behind the carefully controlled and cultivated public image of powerful people, a silly, embarrassing inner adolescent may be lurking and ready to burst forth at any time.  We should all keep that possibility in mind the next time we think a public figure may be perfect and we are told to implicitly trust their judgment on important matters.

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If you’re a guy and you’re losing your hair, you’ve got a choice:  you can accept it and live with it, or you can take extreme measures, like expensive toupees, hair implants, or Rogaine or other hair growth treatments, to try to deal with the issue.  What to do?

For generations, men have bemoaned baldness.  They think women find bald men unattractive, and third parties think chrome domers are pathetic.  Now experiments conducted by a University of Pennsylvania researcher suggest these concerns are unfounded.  In fact, his experiments indicated that guys with shaved scalps are viewed as more manly, more dominant, and taller, stronger, and having more leadership potential.  According to the experiments, baldies still aren’t considered as physically attractive as men with full heads of hair, but a shaved head still beats the thinning hair and comb-over looks every time.  (Although the linked story doesn’t say so, incidentally, I’m assuming the depilated dudes didn’t have unsightly ridges, bumps, or scars on their heads.)

Why is this so?  I think it’s because people who accept their condition and deal with it are always going to be viewed as stronger and more decisive than people who try to mask the condition or reverse it.  Trying to hide something always seems weak — and trying to hide something as obvious as thinning hair, or wearing a bad toupee, just makes the individual seem ridiculous, too.

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Here’s a scientific bulletin for all of you gentlemen out there:  it hurts like the devil when you get hit in the groin.

Every guy knows this, whether they’ve had the brutal misfortune of receiving a shot to this extremely tender area or have only witnessed it happen to some unfortunate wretch standing nearby.  Why is this so?  Science explains that this part of the anatomy is full of nerves, is not well shielded by muscle, bone, or cartilage due to temperature regulation needs, and of course is heavily invested with some male emotional interests, too.  I think the psychological component can’t be overlooked.  Just reading a description of the biological structure, even one using scientific phrases like cremasteric muscle, is enough to make a fellow a bit squeamish.

We didn’t need science to explain that it’s absurdly painful to take a shot to the groin.  Men have known that since well before the first footage of an unwitting Dad tossing a wiffle ball to a wildly swinging toddler aired on America’s Funniest Home Videos. There’s a reason why medieval armorers invented the codpiece.

Why doesn’t science try to explain something that really needs explaining?  Like why, for example, virtually everyone finds it hilarious to watch some poor unsuspecting guy endure a bolt to the crotch?

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Why is it that, whenever you see a photo of German Chancellor Angela Merkel at a meeting with other world leaders, she’s always being kissed on the cheek or even on the lips?

It’s interesting that, even as they talk about gender equality, our world leaders still cling to old-fashioned, sex-specific forms of greetings.  Angela Merkel leads an economic powerhouse that props up countries like Greece and is supposed to figure out a way to bring fiscal sanity to the Eurozone, yet every time she goes to a summit meeting she’s got to put up with getting smacked on the cheek by every head of state in attendance, like she’s their favorite granddaughter.

Merkel’s got to be a tough individual to steel herself to the constant kissing, and she must not be a germaphobe.  Nevertheless, I’ll bet she dreads going to the really big gatherings, like the start of the UN General Assembly, and coming away with chapped cheeks from all of the slobbery pecks she gets.  For every suave kisser on the world stage there have got to be some third-world potentates whose smooching technique closely resembles a dog lick.  Imagine how she feels when she sees Hugo Chavez advancing, with that glint in his eye and his lips pursed for a big smackeroo.

I think it’s high time that the women leaders of the world get a firm handshake, like everybody else.  Let’s give their lips and cheeks a break.

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What separates a “first world” country from a second or third world country?  Free and sanitary public toilets would be high on the list of distinguishing features.

In Mumbai, India, a campaign is underway to try to shame public authorities into establishing free public toilets for women.  Currently, women have to pay for the privilege of using a public toilet, while men can do so for free.  Moreover, there is a huge shortage of toilets, both public and private, in India.  Indeed, a recent survey showed that half — half! — of Indian homes do not have toilets.  As a result, it is commonplace for people to relieve themselves in public.  In a nation as crowded as India, that reality has obvious public health consequences, to say nothing of its negative effect on the sights and smells of everyday existence.

Americans take the existence of (relatively) clean and accessible public facilities for granted.  It’s hard to imagine what life would be like if they weren’t available — but in many parts of India that is the way of the world.  As India continues to surge forward to solidify its position as a global economic and military powerhouse, it also should focus on basic decencies like public toilets for its people.  You’re far more likely to be happy, productive, and full of self-respect if the call of nature doesn’t require you to squat, embarrassed, by the side of the road.

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A Favorite Commercial

This is my favorite current commercial.  It’s hilarious, mostly because the male actor perfectly captures that sorry excuses that most American men are when it comes to romance.  About 99.9% of the guys I know could be sitting in the sports fan’s chair.

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If you are a married man, you’ve probably experienced this scenario.  You and your wife are friends with a couple.  You innocently mention to your lovely bride that you are going to have lunch, or a beer, or play golf with the male member of the couple.  When you return home afterward, your spouse bombards you with questions.  How is Mike’s mother adjusting to the new iron lung?  Has little Elroy accepted the riflery scholarship to Duke?  How is the family dealing with the mysterious, apparently voodoo-related death of the family cat?

You sheepishly admit that you didn’t talk about any of that stuff — or anything else of significance, besides.  And your wife, arms crossed, fixes you with a withering glare of disbelief — causing you to shrivel inwardly with intense embarrassment, realize for the first time the full and tragic extent of your brutish insensitivity, and vow that you will finally become a decent, nurturing member of human society.

Well, we all know the last part doesn’t really happen.  After your wife gives you her amazed reaction, you actually think:  why would I want to talk about any of that stuff that when I’m playing golf?  Still, the encounter with your wife was somewhat unpleasant, and it would be best to avoid similar occasions in the future.  But how?

Here’s a suggestion.  The next time, spend the first five minutes exchanging high-level family information with your friend.  Nessie has been named citizen of the week at the juvenile detention facility!  Sally’s aunt has developed a powerful rash of unknown origin!  The Jones family had a grand time at their bullfighting camp!  Seize on those drab nuggets of personal information and lock them away in the recesses of your brain, because they will be your lifeline when you get home.  Then, turn to more interesting conversational areas — like sports and which episode of Seinfeld was definitive.

At home that night, when your wife asks the inevitable questions, you can retrieve and the casually throw out the stored personal information, perhaps with a little embellishment.  Sure, your wife will have countless detailed follow-up questions that you can’t possibly answer.  Don’t even try.  Just shrug and say that Ken said he didn’t know — and then add, with a hint of sadness, that you sensed that he really didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t want to intrude into what might be an area of intense personal concern for him.  Who knows?  Your wife might actually conclude that you are making progress as a human being and now possess more sensitivity than a gnat.

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Hey, ladies!  Do you ever wonder why . . . well, why men seem so stupid?  Why men seem to crave taking dumb risks?  Why men go sky-diving, and bungee jumping, and engage in X Games sports when they could be curled up in cozy pajamas, drinking warm cocoa with marshmallows in it and having long deeply meaningful conversations with you about their innermost feelings?

Get serious, ladies!  The real answer is — they’re men!

But there is a deeper answer.  Any guy who grew up in America probably has been forever influenced by Jonny QuestJonny Quest was a ’60s cartoon, shown in reruns forever, that featured the teenaged hero, his mystical, turban-topped friend Hadji, his father Dr. Benton Quest, Race Bannon, a combination bodyguard and tutor, and the irritating dog Bandit.  Every week they had amazing adventures and barely avoided certain death.  They rode in hovercrafts.  They made it into sleek planes just before spears thrown by Zulu warriors clinked harmlessly against closed hatches.  They escaped pterodactyls and swamp creatures.  The YouTube video below of the show’s opening and closing gives you a sense of what the show was like.

The red-blooded American boys who watched that show thought:  boy, that is so cool!  And a lust for adventure, impossible to resist, was implanted deep in our simple male souls.

Every middle-aged guy will face a point where they will decide whether to do something risky that they’ve never done before, and they will feel that inner Jonny Quest saying:  do it!  I had my moment years ago when some experienced snowmobilers invited me to join them.  It was about 15 below zero in western Wyoming and I’d never been snowmobiling before — but I said “sure!”  An hour later I was struggling to keep up with them as they zipped along at about 50 mph across the frozen landscape, the snow they kicked up icing over my face shield.  When we passed over a bridge and I saw that another novice snowmobiler had somehow driven off the bridge and was in the creek below, apparently injured, I thought:  “What the hell am I doing here?”  I was grateful when I made it back safely, and I haven’t been snowmobiling since.

We’d all be better off if Jonny had taken a spear to the shoulder now and then.

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Here’s something else that makes me proud of my alma mater — researchers at The Ohio State University have studied how often male and female college students think about sex.  Thank God that our scarce scientific resources have finally been directed at that crucial, too-often-ignored topic!

In any case, the study debunks the canard that men think about sex every seven seconds, which would mean that men think about sex 8,000 times in a 16-hour day.  Instead, the study found that the male subjects reported thinking about sex between 1 and 388 times each day, and the female subjects admitted to thinking about sex between 1 and 140 times per day.

On average, the men thought about sex 19 times a day, and the women thought about sex 10 times a day.  By way of comparison, men thought about food an average of 18 times a day and sleeping an average of 11 times a day, and women thought about food an average of 15 times a day and sleeping 8.5 times a day.

So, according to the study, men aren’t thinking about sex every waking second, and women aren’t either.  In fact, sex, food, and sleep account for only 48 of the thousands of the daily thoughts that college men presumably have.  But that just begs the question:  what in the world were these male college students thinking about the rest of the time?  Here’s my guess on some of the likely results:  (1) sports (200 thoughts per day); (2) beer (200 “thoughts” per day); (3) “This class sucks” (50 thoughts per day); (4) “Whoa, this room is trashed!” (40 times per day); (5) “When you think about it, Captain Picard was actually a better starship captain than Captain Kirk” (25 times a day).

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What really distinguishes a fake smile from the genuine article?  And why do people give fake smiles, anyway?  Science offers some answers.

We’ve all seen fake smiles — in school pictures, on the faces of clerks taking orders at Starbucks, from politicians, and in countless other scenarios.  It turns out that people are better at detecting fake smiles in photos than in real life, because we tend to study photos more closely.  And the key indicator of fakiness is not the position of the grinning mouth and bared teeth, but the eyes.  A muscle around the eye called obicularis occuli contracts when a real smile flashes across the face, giving the eyes that crinkle that separates the real deal smile from the pretenders.  Most people who aren’t actors, con men, or psychopaths just can’t control that muscle.

Studies also indicate that women smile more than men.  The theory is that girls are encouraged from an early age to be more expressive emotionally than boys.  Girls also learn faster than boys that a good fake smile can be an appropriate, polite, social response under certain circumstances — like when Gramma gives you a lame gift for your birthday.  In view of that, it also should not be surprising that women tend to be more adept than clueless male brutes at detecting fake smiles in others and accurately determining what a person’s smile really means.

It follows that if people learn to give fake smiles, and then realize that people often can’t tell the difference, they may decide to wear a fake smile as a matter of course.  When you walk down a Midwestern street and see people with smiles on their faces, how many of them are fake?  No way to tell for sure, of course — but studies also show that people smile much more infrequently when they are alone.

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In England, there is concern about “manorexia” — that is, males dealing with anorexia and bulimia and other eating disorders.  Apparently statistics show a 66 percent increase in the number of hospital admissions for males with eating disorders in the last decade, and it is now thought that one in five people experiencing eating disorders may be male.  The experts believe that males are feeling increased pressure to look like male models and work out for hours every day to acquire “six-pack” abdomens.

In America — where I don’t know anyone who pays any attention to male models, much less wants to look like one — we don’t seem to have this concern.  In fact, from the examples of manatomy I’ve seen walking around lately, I’d say we are dealing with the mantethesis of the problem.  Sure, you see sweaty, shirtless guys running at lunch hour trying to showing off their ripped physiques, but for every one of those there are ten or twenty seriously overweight dudes huffing and puffing as they walk by.  We could use more attention to diet and exercise, not less.

Nevertheless, if “manorexia” is a problem, I will do my part to fight this scourge.  I will stoutly resist any impulse to look like a pale and underfed pencil-necked geek.  I will work to maintain a beefy, florid-faced appearance.  I pledge to forgo that leafy plate of greens in favor of a loaded meat and cheese pizza from Joe’s Place.  I will sacrifice a gut-crunching two-hour daily workout in favor of more time in front of the home computer screen and TV set.  I promise to drink beer and eat Frosted Flakes and cheeseburgers and fries in order to do my part.

Is anyone with me?

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In the eternal debate between men and women about which gender is required by convention to wear the most ludicrous and uncomfortable business attire, one point should be beyond dispute — in a windstorm, the men’s necktie takes the prize for the most annoying article of clothing.

Venture outside on a hot, blustery day, and the tie that formerly hung placidly from your neck suddenly turns into a unpredictable, writhing irritant.  One wind gust might cause it to unexpectedly flap up into your face, then another might wrap it around your neck like the scarf worn by a continental swell.  In the meantime, your carefully assembled business outfit has been thrown into utter disarray, and the buttons on your shirt and your expanding midsection have been hideously exposed to an appalled world.

What’s more, there is no good way to deal with the necktie in the windstorm phenomenon.  If you try to hold the end of your tie with your hand, you look stupid.  If you tuck the end of the tie into the shirt pocket, you look like a nerd.  If you try to ignore the flapping, you look comical.  And if you remove the tie altogether, you raise the ultimate question:  why are men expected to wear these ridiculous, non-functional things in the first place?

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