Eighteen months disguised as a man

I think all of us have wondered what it would be like to be the opposite sex. Be it due to bewilderment, or just casual interest. Norah Vincent did exactly that for 18 months, and it made a truly fascinating story.

I could go on about how warmed I was to hear a woman understand our side of courtship. The devaluing properties of a casual unimpressed appraisal with the eyes, the “No” before you even get a chance to ask. An understanding for the pedestal that women force us to try and climb, one split down the middle, where we should be tall and strong and brave and in charge, but sensitive and understanding and submissive at the same time. An understanding for the power women have over us, we really would do anything to make the women we love happy, you can only imagine what power that can grant you. If you can’t get that power over your man, he’s either clever or not in love with you.

But I think this piece would be more interesting if I talked about what it taught me about women.

As a man, insecure as the next, wanting to be masculine, well-liked, loved, it is comforting that my woman likes me for who I am, that the way I look and walk, the way I dress, is really not as important in the long run of things as the way I behave. Not as important as who I am.

It is hard that I never know with my girlfriend how much time I should spend making her laugh, being honest with her, telling stories or listening to the way she feels. Telling her the way I feel. Am I being judged for not being the alpha male often enough? not taking more control of the relationship, not letting her have her way more often? These are questions I have perhaps never asked, but this article has made me ponder for the first time.

There have been times I’ve had the chance to prove my masculinity to Steph. From pushing wheel barrels full of earth, to taking the brunt of a verbal attack from a motorcyclist who our car almost hit, even though I was in the passenger seat of the car. But did I prove anything? Did I lose her respect somehow because I didn’t hit the guy, did I gain her respect because I kept the attention off her, and I didn’t react to his violent assault with violence in return? Did I lose her respect because afterwards I lost my temper, and she was its path?

We wear man-suits over our real selves. But how much should we let our man suit control us, and how much is it necessary to allow it control, so that we keep our women?

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 12th, 2006 at 17:11 and is filed under Life. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.