It took me a long time to realize that my life isn’t a sitcom. My problems definitely don’t get solved in a half-hour and telling the truth isn't a panacea. I don’t meet girls in the subway or at the ATM machine. I don’t buy French bread every time I go shopping. I rarely have exact change for the cabbie and if I drive, I circle around for 45 minutes looking for a parking spot. My apartment is small and expensive. But the most important differentiator is this: I can’t remember the last time I met a girl 36-24-36.

So you can imagine my surprise when I was at the supermarket and this chick walked in looking like she jumped off the cover of Cosmo. Well, in all fairness, she was more beautiful than hot. There is a difference, you know? This chick was more of the girl-next-door type of hot, kind of a Jennifer Love Hewitt. Normally, I retreat from these types of confrontations. There’s something about a beautiful woman that can make you sound stupid. I’m not necessarily worried about saying the wrong thing; I’m worried about having nothing to say at all.

But, here we were. I’ve got my cart full of milk, eggs and produce and I’m heading towards the cereal aisle. I’m walking towards the entrance of the store, preparing to bang a right to get my Cocoa Puffs. She walks in pushing a cart, catches my stare and says, “You’re going the wrong way.”

“Huh?” is all I could say. I coughed out a nervous laugh.

“You’re going the wrong way,” she didn’t smile, she kind of pursed her lips.

“How do you know where I’m going?” I asked with a suspicious grin. I took a subtle deep breath and composed myself, trying to locate an appropriate attitude. I was after all, caught a little off guard.

She laughed, “You’re doing it backwards. You have to get all your other stuff first and then get your milk and stuff, otherwise it’ll go bad.”

Suddenly, I did feel really stupid. I tried to play it off but I don’t think she bought it. I mumbled a little bit and then I just resigned myself.

“OK, you’re right, I’ve never really done this before and I’m not really sure what I’m doing. Are you happy now? You’ve humiliated me at the Stop & Shop and I haven’t even gotten my coffee yet.”

She laughed hard, a little too hard. I pouted until she grabbed my wrist and said “Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Sounds good, huh? Well it isn’t. Why was I doing it wrong? Why can’t I shop the way I shop? Do women think that men are so stupid that we are incapable of performing a simple task like grocery shopping? I believe they do, albeit through no fault of their own. I believe they have become conditioned to think men are idiots.

That little incident got me thinking and I don’t mean to sound patronizing so please forgive me if it comes off that way. I studied advertising in college and I was berated with the notion that using beautiful women in advertising is bad because it perpetuates an unattainable stereotype, an ideal to strive for but for most women, completely unrealistic. I didn’t buy into it then, but I’m starting to see the feminist point of view. Quick, someone call my ex.

Let’s assume for a moment that this notion is true, that advertising gorgeous models in regular people clothes leaves women more susceptible to self-confidence problems and eating disorders. Conceptually, can the same be said for men? Is the portrayal of men in certain regard detrimental to how people look at him? I believe it is and here’s why: No one is going to convince me that the role of men in popular culture hasn’t changed over the years. And likewise, no one is going to convince me that the perception of men, both by men and women, hasn’t changed over the years either.

For example, my hero growing up was James Bond. I preferred Roger Moore because he starred in the era in which I began watching movies. How smooth was this guy? There was nothing he couldn’t do, and to bang a chick named Pussy Galore takes some big ass balls, I don’t care what you've got swinging between your knees. The point is that Bond was the ideal man. He was suave, powerful, smart and confident; all the building blocks a young boy needs to someday become an effective adult male.

God willing, I will someday procreate and if He chooses to bless me even further, he will bestow upon me a son. And when that son begins reading and watching movies and looking beyond my influence for guidance on how to conduct himself, who is he going to turn to?

Today’s media personalities are different. They are guys like Eminem, Jerry Springer, and Regis. Because life imitates art, growing up with these guys gives women decidedly different opinions as to what to expect from a guy. In turn, it confuses the images a boy has of what a man should be. Me? I’ll take James Dean over Bob Saget any day.

Now, let me wax nostalgic a little. When I was doing time at UMass, there was a seduction tactic we used to employ. We called it “last man standing” and it worked on the simple notion that the last guy to leave a party or bar always got laid. It worked on the premise that there was always a girl just looking to hook up but she also wanted to party. If you were patient enough, she’d be yours. She may not be the prettiest of women, but at least you wouldn’t sleep alone.

I bring it up because it doesn’t apply anymore. It’s antiquated the Beta-Vision of the twentysomethinger. Sure, Beta-Vision still works, but you’ll never find anything good for it. It’s like the guys who drove the Camaros in high school who got all the girls. They were cool back then - no doubt about it - but today they’re the same guys who got pinched on a DUI and now ride the bus to get around. We reminisce about those days, but we’re forced to accept the fact that times are different. If you decide to use the “last man standing” tactic today, chances are good you’ll be stuck with your buddy’s bar tab, a lonely cab ride home and not much else.

The problem is that the perceptions have changed. Some say it’s a coming of age thing but I don’t really agree. Women used to think it was heroic when a guy got into a fight on her behalf, now they think he’s treating her like an object. Women used to admire a guy who did his own laundry, now they whisper behind his back, “He doesn’t even separate the whites.” And women used to respect a guy who took charge in a situation where no one else would step up, now they think he’s a control freak.

A few more examples, ten years ago:

A guy was expected to pay for dates. Now, he’s seen as infringing on the independence of women if he does (actually, I don’t mind this change all that much).

A guy could get into a fight and not worry about legal ramifications.

A guy was expected to be able to drink and drive, after all, we’ve got to get home.

A guy who didn’t call the next day was seen as mysterious and strong, now he’s viewed as a player.

A non-athlete was a geek, today’s geeks are cool and athletes are superficial.

I’m talking about a total restructuring of a value system that has turned gender relations on its head. The real problem is that no one told us about it and we’re the ones who are on the front lines of the gender war everyday. I don’t have a girlfriend. I have to fight tooth and nail against a hundred guys who look just like me for the only girl at the bar who even resembles someone worth taking home. And now I’m handicapped by the fact that women view me as an immature, manipulative slob who can’t go to the grocery store correctly.

The truth of the matter is that the ideal of the “man” as we know it is dead. He has been replaced by an asexual, cat-loving, politically correct chameleon who portrays more sensitivity than bravado. There’s nothing wrong with that per say... Sadly, for those who can remember, the ideal I grew up wanting to emulate is six feet under.

By the way, the girl in the grocery store turned out to be really sweet. We dated for a while, had a lot of fun and then she dumped me for a financial advisor who drove a Lexus. I met him once, by accident. He began talking down his nose at me so I broke it (he later decided not to press charges but made me pay for the suit I ruined. Too bad for me it was an Armani). I’m not proud of it but he deserved it. She, needless to say, was not impressed with my conversational skills and openly questioned what she had ever seen in me. Feeling fairly empowered after I laid her boyfriend out in one punch, I thought quietly, “In me, you saw a man.”

I smiled as I was escorted out of the bar by two bouncers.

At least I didn’t have to pay my tab.

courtesy of 3 A.M. MAGAZINE
written by Justin Shaw