An interesting mix of scientific observations mingled liberally with opinions and comparisons of, ahem, things best left covered.
I’ve been watching the shenanigans over at Vox’s place for awhile and, being a girl, really didn’t want to get into it. The boys are faster and stronger and quicker and smarter and, well, I don’t care enough to engage in the debate. Especially when they’ll hand me my buns on a platter faster than you can say “Bane was right!”
Arielle posted some thought provoking insights that drew me in a bit but mostly from the perspective of how does a righteous WOMAN respond to a man who believes his best method of interaction is the list of rules as espoused by the infamous Roissy.
So… In lieu of an actual thought process regarding this, I will throw out an amusing anecdote. Shortly there after I will retire to the kitchen, put my head covering back on and refrain from intelligent discourse to the best of my ability unless of course it pertains to women or my children. That way I can’t be accused of trying to jump into the big boy end of the pool.
4th of July. Local baseball game. College age boys. B.O.R.I.N.G. I don’t know anyone. My son, who is 10 but looks older because he’s stinkin’ tall and dresses cool (his fault, not mine) is sitting next to me doing dorky 10 year old boy things. He is oblivious to the young girls in front of him. Little blond girls wearing patriotic shirts, hair ribbons, sparkly lip gloss and with bright, glittery stars painted on their cheeks, you can see they are Feeling It. And doing their best to Work It.
Except he couldn’t care less. Doesn’t even notice.
After an hour of being ignored despite all of their cute little half-turns and attempts at coyly drawing him into conversation they became noticeably pissy.
Which amused my husband and myself to no end. They were definitely top tier girls, for their age, and obviously not used to being ignored. Of course we said nothing to our son but I still found it amusing that they couldn’t stop trying to get him to notice them. Apparantly, at least according to Roissy’s rules where he states it is best to “ignore the hot chick” to get her attention, my boy’s got “Game”.
Now. I had a second thought… And it was……
I’m not kidding when I tell you I don’t eat pork, shellfish or any of the related byproducts. What this has to do with Game will become obvious. Stay patient.
I can watch cooking shows where they tell me the best possible ways to cook bacon, pork loin, chops, ham… Pickle pigs feet. These earnest individuals are working diligently to show me all the pertinent information. You could tell me, in detail, all the steps necessary to produce the most incredible lobster bisque you could imagine.
All good information. All important to people interested in those products.
With no bearing whatsoever on my life.
Which is kinda what I think about Game.
I don’t care if my sons ever know how to attract or keep the attention of the girls who would want to be pursued in the manner indicated by Roissy. I would like them to have enough discernment and self-respect to refrain from playing “games” with any of their acquaintances and instead become known as men who can be relied upon to seek and speak truth.
My husband doesn’t have to play games with me or work to get my attention. My Mr. tells me what he wants and gives me the freedom to choose to come along for the ride or stay behind. I’ve found that going along with him provides, by far, the most interesting and rewarding life I could have ever imagined.
But he doesn’t get pissy or vindictive if I make choices that are different from his. He does help me do a cost and benefit analysis if needed sometimes though.
And, because he’s not worrying about proving anything or wondering if he’s good enough? He’s ok if I have a headache sometimes too.