Where Have All the Men Gone?: Handy, Rugged Men

HE is rugged.

I don’t actually know when the last installment of my weekly man griping posts will be, but probably soon. I’m running out of ammo. Even this installment isn't so much about girly men as it is about how men SHOULD be - handy and rugged.
 
There are men who can fix things and get dirty, and man-women who don’t know what the difference is between a nail and a screw (HAHA any one else find that really funny?) I’ve never been one to proclaim that I’m handy, know cars (I tried to tell Rio about a car my friend is selling, and when he asked questions about the engine or something, I told him the car was blue), or like doing guy things like hunting or fishing (god, it’s all so boring). I like the rugged country guys. I’m not, by any means, a get-down-and-dirty kind of girl (oh my GOD, these terms are so funny to write when I don’t mean it in a sexual way but that’s the only way I take it), but I do like the country more than the city. Granted, being out in the wilderness is not my idea of a good time. I do not like bugs, dirt, rain, being dirty when I can’t have a nice shower, or sleeping outside. I do, however, love horses, riding, country music, and 4-wheeling. I love the wide open space of the country, but it’s kind of necessary for me to have a house with heat or A/C (depending on the season), running water, a comfy bed, and electricity. I like the comforts of city living in the country, I guess. Or I just want to be rich. I would love to be a ranch hand if I could clean up at the end of the day and sleep in a really comfy bed. What? I’m still a lady, even if I don’t act like it at the best of times.
 
I got a little off topic there. So, basically, my point is that I’ve been surrounded by both country and city guys. In general, I mean. Again, I’m not so vain as to assume that I have the pick of the litter, so to speak, when it comes to men around me. However, even if I don’t like to camp, hunt, or fish, I find it very attractive when a guy does. I like a guy that’s good with his hands (heh) and knows how to fix things. Just because he desperately enjoys being smelly for days on end and catching and killing his food doesn’t mean that I’ll be right there beside him doing it, too. He has his own life. I’ll be getting manicures while he does that. I won’t be building fires or…other camping things when at a campsite. I will, however, be in the general vicinity with a magazine, a lawn chair, plenty of bug spray, and a beer. That’s my idea of camping. It’s all about compromise. But when the inside of his car is purple and sparkly? No. Just...no. It's right up there with the guy that goes on and on about cars and soups them up all pretty like. It's a car. Know how to fix it. Don't know how to decorate it.
 
This leads me to the handyman type of guy. I’m not handy. Like, at all. I once hammered a tack into my wall using the bottom of my sunscreen bottle. I take my car to a mechanic or my Dad. I call my landlord when something breaks. That’s not to say that I can’t learn how to do these types of things (I learned how to fill up my windshield wiper fluid thing!) – I just don’t want to. So call it a double standard if you will, but even if a guy doesn’t do the handy stuff, it’s still attractive to know that he can. And then I’d throw him a beer as he’s doing his thing while I’m writing a hilarious yet meaningful and thought provoking blog (or book – I have dreams). But if HE starts hammering things with a sunscreen bottle, any attraction to him would explode – and not in a good way.
 
I know it’s a lot to ask of guys to just KNOW how to do handy things. So that’s why, when I get over my fear of everything to do with relationships, I will search for a guy from the country that knows how to be a man (at least the kind of man that I find attractive). Because if a guy ever asked me to get a manicure with him, I’d tell him to go sit in a puddle of mud with beers and a shotgun until the manliness soaked into him. Or something.
 
Love,
 
Bella

Where Have All The Men Gone?: Primping Men

Oh sweet Jesus...

We’ve all seen Jersey Shore – and if you haven’t, I’m sure you’re still aware of the characters that grace the TV screen through that show – so you know that the “men” on that show really encompass the femininity that has suddenly become so popular with guys these days. I would like to say that the Jersey Shore guys are magnified versions of girly men, but they aren’t. Real life guys are the EXACT. SAME. I go to a salon where there is also tanning, and the number of men there is terrifying. I want to show them all to this blog. But then again, there must be some woman out there that enjoys a bronzed male in the middle of January. (Of course, there are always exceptions – tanning booths help with some skin issues that are beyond one’s control – the use of a tanning bed in this situation is much more acceptable). These tanning-for-looks men are also probably the ones that shave, wax, or laser their chests. Which…no. That’s just…sad.

I’ve worked in Toronto. I’ve been to London, Rome, Athens, Barcelona…all the “exotic” cities. You know what I notice when I’m there? How tight the pants are on the men who reside in these cities. How coiffed their hair is, pointy their shoes are, and tanned their skin is. They wear scarves for NO REASON (when it’s winter and you are outside, it’s okay. Necks should be kept warm. But not by a Burberry scarf).Is the woman beside you wearing a scarf as part of her outfit? That should be a red flag that you should take your fucking scarf OFF your neck and burn it.

When I venture into Toronto (which isn’t often because I do not like people that much and there is a LOT of people in that city), I’m surrounded by girly men (like, on the street. They don’t flock to me. I’m not vain enough to think that all the men there think I’m amazing and are fighting for my affection). The hair that is slicked back just so, and the earrings (earrings!) that are glinting in the winter sun. I’ve been envious of a guy’s diamond earrings before. That is not okay.

That brings us to the hair. A little gel to manage it? No problem. That falls into the category of being presentable. It’s the hair that is slicked back, styled, and hair sprayed. If there are STEPS to your hair care beyond wash, dry, and gel, chances are you’re man-woman. And even worse than expertly coiffed hair? (Hey, guys? If you own a hair straightener, give it to your girlfriend/sister/friend/any female – just get it out of your possession). Highlighted hair. I understand that frosted tips were all the rage in the late 90s/early 2000s (I know this because I distinctly remember M always having highlighted hair, and one of my buddies coming to the door with blond spikes on his head. It was shocking), but that time has passed. Don’t dye your hair. It’s weird.

Oh, and their shoes! They’re so pointy and they click! I should not turn around when I hear clicking shoes and find a man. No. No no no. Men’s shoes do not click unless they are wearing cleats of some sort and are heading out to play a sport.

Finally, I come to the worst – and most prominent – item of a man’s look that takes him from man to man-woman. The skinny jean. I just…I don’t have words to speak of my horror when I see a “man” wearing this item of clothing. If you can FIT into skinny jeans, there is a problem. If you can fit into WOMEN’S skinny jeans, you should probably put up a flyer around your neighbourhood seeking your lost balls.

I realize that I am very opinionated when it comes to this topic. It is because I very much like guys that are, in fact, guys. I want to be the girl. I don’t want to fight him for the bathroom mirror as we both style our hair. Some women like feminine men. That’s great. They need people to love them. It’s just not me. And this is my blog, so I can say what I want.

Also, thank you for reading. I love you.

Love,

Bella

Shit Single Girls Say

(Addition - January 24, 2012 - Hehe this is my 69th post. Just saw that now and giggled a lot to myself...)

After watching "Shit Guys Don't Say" on my friend's blog, I obviously headed to YouTube to watch more. And I found this:



I've definitely said almost all of these things as a single girl. Usually, I'm pretty happy being single when I see most of the relationships around me. But some days I get bitter and lust after "Ryan Gosling"...except my man is Gerard Butler.

Oh god, I get it. This video is so true.

Love,

Bella

Where Have All the Men Gone?: Online Men

I’m no stranger to online dating (I realize that makes me sound pathetic, but I refuse to delve too deeply into why I’ve been on and off dating sites for the past 3 years). I’m also no stranger to the type of femme men that populate those sites as they hope to find a woman that wants to date them.

For example, there are men that take photos of themselves. IN mirrors. These men need to be euthanized. Yes, I said euthanized. That’s something that annoying 15 year old girls and self-involved 20 year olds do. Even better? When they purse their lips and have on designer sun glasses…inside. Oh baby, I must have you now. I don’t care who you are, nor do I care if you don’t have many photos of yourself. Do not, under any circumstance, take a photo of yourself in a MIRROR. It’s demoralizing.

And then there are the guys that have photos of themselves in the GYM for Christ’s sake, with their shirts off, and their pants dangerously close to showing what I can only assume is an extremely small penis. After all, they’re compensating for something. These are also the guys that send me messages, such as “hey baby, you so fine”. Am I? Am I fine? Because right now I feel like I need to shower. Like, come on. Be a man. Talk normally. Like sports. Work out more than your God damned biceps.

Finally, there are the ones that think that showing their sensitive sides will get them women. Which it might. But it won’t get me. When I read a message from a man whose self-proclaimed interests are kissing, cuddling, and romance movies, I want to cry. I am NOT. KIDDING. One man (a term I use loosely) admitted to having nipple rings. Are you kidding me? Do you have a vagina? Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, go watch a hockey game and drink a beer. Burp. Do disgusting man things. At least then you’d be able to call yourself an actual man.

There are, of course, many other types of guys. But these are the ones that make me question the masculinity of men today. Looking back, I should have told them to strap on a pair. I feel like its advice they really could have used.

Love,

Bella

College Is Scary

In a moment of brilliance (literally a moment - I really have to work on my impulsivity) I decided to take a psychology course at the local college. I figured that, since I want to get my Master's in counseling, I'd better start brushing up on psychological theories. Or something. I didn't do enough research initially into the prerequisites for the Master's, though, because it turns out that I need a UNIVERSITY level course in psych, not college. Shit. So basically I'm sitting here waiting to enter a classroom for a course that I'll be dropping tomorrow. I really need to re-evaluate my life.

I forgot what it's like to be on a campus. It's been a few years since I was a student and I guess I figured that those feelings of inadequacy would be gone and replaced with a feeling of triumph and an inflated ego that I'm older and wiser that these people.

I...was wrong.

Instead, I'm a 24 year old woman with no direction in life who is taking a college night course that won't even help me in the long run and who forgets that modern day classes probably require a laptop which everyone has here in the waiting area - where I'm not even sure I should be because the location was very vague - and I didn't even think to bring and all the girls here are annoyingly  pretty which hurts my feelings and and makes me feel worse about myself and the very worst part is that the super hot guy that I was planning on meeting seems to have been replaced by tiny boys in skater shoes and pants that are tighter than any man should wear and--oh! He was a decent one!

Ahem. This place is terrifying. And I can't find the washrooms. I also remembered that I despise school. Basically I just made the worst choice for myself.

I'm so in tune with my wants and needs.

Love,

Bella

Where Have All the Men Gone?: A Woman's Quest to Find a Man Among Boys

(Look, I love Twilight. I do. But you have to admit - he's shockingly girly)

What started off as a suggestion from a friend about a new string of posts that I could create quickly became a way to provide insight into the scary and wonderful (some might say) world of dating men in the 21st century.

On the advice of this friend, I will write a weekly column detailing what it’s like to be a single woman in her 20s, on the cusp of all the world has to offer (I hope), yet faced with a very different breed of man: the metrosexual.

Before I really delve into what men are like in this century, I suppose I should divulge the type of man that I’m really after. It’s not a checklist of ideals that a man must fulfill before I can see myself in a relationship with him that lasts longer than a year (if I can even make it that long. Relationships are HARD). It’s simply what I think captures the essence of a good partner for me.

It’s basic, really. I would like to find a man that isn’t more of a woman than me. This type of man will differ for everyone, but it has come to my attention that, as I search for a potential mate, men these days are much more…feminine than they used to be. However, let me add this disclaimer: I am not, in any way, shape, or form, disrespecting men in general, your husband, boyfriend, sexual partner, or any other type of man with whom you might be involved, nor am I trying to insult you specifically, if you are a man. I am simply giving my view on what it’s like to be faced with a multitude of womanly men who, it seems, have difficulties fixing things in or around the house, attend to strict diets in order to keep their womanly figure (for real!), do not drink beer or at least harder liquors, know and care about designer clothes and accessories, and/or dye their hair and tan their skin unnaturally.

So please, stayed tuned every Tuesday for this “column”. I promise that I will try to make it funny. But some of these facts and stories will be very, very serious.

For now, I will leave you with a song that I feel really captures my feelings toward what type of man I would like to find. Also I really like cowboys.

Love,

Bella

Unearthing the Past

My Dad recently cleaned out part of our basement that housed our treasured belongings (read: things I forgot I had). It was everything from my “old” room that I cleared out when I re-decorated and decided to become more grown-up (turns out, maturity is more of a choice). I was excited to go through everything – but what I didn’t plan on when being thrown back into the past was re-living memories that I’d long since forgotten.

Ironically, my high school best friend recently wrote about her childhood memories (guess we still have odd similarities from time to time!). This girl was my rock through high school. Without her, there would have been many more lonely days than the ones I already went through. We started as close friends in grade school, part of a core group of girls, and really became inseparable once high school rolled around (literally - her home was my second home, and I spent many, MANY days and nights there). One of our brilliant ideas, taken from Britney Spears’ critically acclaimed film Crossroads, was to create a time capsule of our future plans and current obsessions for us to open in 2005 (though I’m pretty sure we didn’t wait that long). I came across this time capsule again last night, and was treated to our young minds’ goals of our futures. She wanted to get married and become a recreationist with the elderly (both achieved). I wanted to move to England (did it) and become an ESL teacher (huh?). I also wanted to get married, but we all know my stance on that right now. Apparently we also thought it prudent to write the names of our “crushes” on a piece of paper and forever record in history the boys that our 15 year old selves liked. Mine wasn’t anything of consequence (although when he moved away, I fell apart listening "Right Here Waiting" or something. Young love...of which he was unaware). But hers would later go on to be a fairly large part of MY romantic life through my late teens and early 20s. Oh, how things change.

As a pre-teen/teen, I always tried to keep a diary. It lasted…3 days, usually. But I happened to find one of these diaries, which highlighted the main “issues” I had when I was 13, apparently. It’s not like I was writing about sleeping with a multitude of 13 year old boys or shooting heroin on the playground. No, I was writing to my diary about my distress about which boy I liked as more than a friend, or whether or not a certain boy was going to be at the Friday night Jube. If I were to write in a diary now, the man worries would be insignificant compared to money, job, and education worries. In University, my “diary” entries were jumbled sentences of me trying to make sense of the crazy thoughts inside my mind and trying to find some semblance of normalcy when I felt anything but. Sure, what I was writing about was petty, but it’s nice to be able to look back at my 13 year old self and know that I had all the worries that I should have had at that age, and none that I shouldn’t have had. Which is actually surprising to me, given that it was a year after quite arguably the worst year of my grade school experience. Where's JL? She might be able to explain this to me...

The diaries that I would try to keep would usually turn into a book for me to play MASH in and fill out fake questionnaires for my fake children. Apparently, I was very preoccupied with marriage and kids. SM and I joke that we got the domesticity out of our systems when we were kids playing make believe with fake families. There are literally pages and pages of MASH games filled with countries where I hoped to live and the names of boys from my school, boys from other schools, and boys from my brother’s hockey/baseball teams. When I wasn’t playing MASH, I was creating questionnaires about my children, documenting their names, birth dates, and whatever else I felt needed to be captured in these fake certificates. The last names changed periodically, usually to be the same as the boy of the hour. What I found most interesting, though, was the birthdate of these children. I remember picking a date that seemed sooo far into the future. 2012. Hm.

I found my grade 8 yearbook, which was full of pictures of old friends in their adolescent stages. Some of these friends I’ve grown apart from, and some I’m still in contact with, but not as close as I would like. Sometimes I wish I could go back to these friendships and “do” them differently and in a way that would solidify our friendship for years to come.

I can’t help but look at the present as I unearth my past, and compare who I was then to who I am now. I’m no longer horse crazy, nor do I make up fake information on my non-existent children. But I’m still the same little girl that values her friends and has dreams of traveling and moving to a different country. Only now, I won’t leave it up to MASH to determine where I’ll live or who I’ll marry. That’s too flighty, even for me.

Love,

Bella

Riveting Saturday Night Conversations

It's Saturday night. I had a lovely evening with one of my girlfriends, and then I went home. Where I did, and am doing...nothing. I'm texting. The following conversation has taken place.

Me: Uggh I'm hungry.

Rio: What are you doing to eat?!

Me: I dunno...hmmm

Rio: Something frozen?

Me: Probably. I have a little pizza...

Rio: That sounds good.

Me: I need a more exciting life.

Rio: You and me both. Thankfully, I have netflix.

Love,

Bella

2012 - The Year of the Ball and Chain?

I’ve always heard that being in your mid-20s brings a lot of changes to your life and to the lives of those around you. My mom always told me that, one year, everything will explode with weddings and babies – and truthfully, I was looking forward to it. I love weddings. I don’t love the dressing up part, but being able to go to a big party with all your friends and reminisce through speeches and eat really good food? What’s not to like? But now that I’m in this age gap, and people around me are getting engaged or engaging in serious relationships that could very well lead to marriage, I’m not dealing with it all that well.
 
I’ve never been a big proponent of change – I resist it and try to hang on to the “old” for a lot longer than I probably should. I like my life right now, for the most part – sure, there are some things that I’d change, but I’m working on that. So when all these engagements popped up on Facebook of people that I went to high school with, and one of my best friends in the WORLD got engaged, I was suddenly forced to realize that things weren’t going to be “normal” anymore. And then I realized that maybe it isn’t the change that I’m having a hard time dealing with, it’s the fact that I’m no where near where it seems like EVERYone else is. With everyone moving on to these new chapters, it’s my fear that I’ll lose some of these friends because we’re at such different points in our lives. And I don’t like to be left behind. I’m basically running after them yelling, “Hey! Can I play?! Where are you going?!”
 
I didn’t realize that these changes were weighing on me until my dreams started to reflect them. I had a dream that JL was engaged and didn’t tell me, and then didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I had a dream that people in my life were having babies and literally saying that I didn’t belong with them anymore. But the craziest thing to me – and why I don’t understand these dreams – is that I don’t WANT to be in that situation right now. I don’t want a husband and kids to get in the way of my traveling and my plans to go back to school. So all this is, really, is separation anxiety from those that I love. That, and the panic that I feel when I think about what if it was ME settling down into married life. That image is so foreign to me that I can’t even comprehend it. I know that it’s because there’s no one in my life that I could picture settling down with – but even more so it’s the fact that I’m the least settled person in the world right now, or so it feels.
 
I guess all this is is the strangeness of viewing all these changes around me and wondering why it’s happening – why are people getting married now, so young? And then I realize that it’s not young to them. They are exactly where they want to be in their lives, and they are taking the next step that they want to take. One day, I’ll be there. But right now I’m having too much fun being in my 20s and being carefree to worry about that. For now, my future thoughts are on what Master’s program to apply to or what country I want to visit next. And you know what? I’m more than okay with that. As long as I keep my friends in the process.
 
Love,
 
Bella

NYE – Drunk, Loud, and No Personal Space

(Me and my girl, CK, on New Year's Eve. CK – you are amazing! Thank you for such a great time!! xoxo)

New Year’s Eve. It’s always a night that’s looked forward to by most everyone. Not only does it signify what hopefully will be a great party, but it also holds the chance of a new beginning.

I’m sure my New Year’s Eve held these things for me, but I can’t remember much of it to actually relay what happened. I will try to document the night as it went, but as the time gets later, the memories get blanker.

7:30pm – Enjoy a lovely dinner with CK and CK’s mom, where we had wine and delicious food.

8:00pm – Get dressed in fancy clothes. Realize that I hate wearing dresses. Desperately wish I could wear jeans and a sweater. Decide that alcohol will assist in forgetting how much I hate dressing up.

9:00pm – Friends arrive. Heavy drinking begins.

9:30pm – Get increasingly louder. Start to reminisce about old days with friend, who I’ve known for over 20 years. Reveal things that are awkward. Scare him. Oops.

10:00pm – Try to have a heart to heart with same friend. Can’t keep thoughts straight. Make new friends with his friend. Realize that my sense of personal boundaries when drinking is very skewed. This will turn out to be a theme of the night.

10:30pm – I actually have no idea what the time really was. Get into a cab. Make friends with cabbie.

11:00pm-1:00am –Time from this point on is very foggy. We were at a bar. Only ended up being 4 of us because other friends didn’t show. Very rude. Not too sure what happened, but what I can remember is that, at one point, I hugged a girl in the washroom because she said I was pretty; lost my nose ring; lost my hair clip; texted many people happy new year, including my family who I texted twice; and hugged the 3 people I was with numerous times and probably more than they would have cared for. All the while I was drinking. I’m not even sure where the drinks came from.

1:30am – Realize I have to go home. CK and I leave. The boys stay. Take a cab with CK to McDonald’s. It is closed. Cab has left. We decide to walk home in high heels and in the snow. Text CD to tell him of these events. Think I make him worry (love you, CD!). End up back at CK’s house. Fall UP the stairs. CK falls down. We are messes. I fall asleep on the floor, apparently. Then at some point made my way to the couch.

11:00am – Morning. New Year’s Day. Terrible way to start the new year. So very sick. Try to recount the night. Remember some things. Most of which are very awkward. Delete all photos and evidence. Vow to never drink again. Happy New Year.

I hope that 2012 will be a great year for everyone. I wish you all love, health, and happiness for this new year! I also hope that this year does not signify the end of the world. But if it does happen to come – make sure to leave with no regrets!

Love,

Bella