Sooner or later, every man must come face to face with the most dangerous and unpredictable of all intangibles--romance. Early in life, we all stumble into it blind, unprepared, defenseless. The beardless boy has no idea of the sublime savagery and power of romance until it’s too late. He makes the mistake of thinking, “Hey, what’s so hard about this. After all, I can drive a car.”
Most of us crawl out of this first heedless headlong plunge into romance with our lives. But there’s not much left of our pride and self confidence. After that, have you noticed that most men don’t talk about it? In fact, it’s been my pleasure to share spirits, poems, songs and lies with tough guys all over the United States and Western Europe and not one has ever said, “Okay fellas, now let’s talk about romance.”
Try to think of a great blues song or a hard driving rock ‘n roll it that mentions “romance.” They’re probably out there. But off hand, I can’t think of one.
The subject may come up in the refined atmosphere of a cocktail party or dinner out with friends. But caution must be exercised lest the savage spirit be roused by the mere mentioning of the word--romance. The ladies will focus, with laser sharpness on every word spoken on the subject. They will display a level of close attention that would be the envy of any watch repairman. The gentlemen will be on thin ice indeed until the ladies show mercy and permit the subject to be changed. a foolish misstep will cause the topic to drag on until desert and after dinner drinks seem to go on forever.
There’s a widely observed but unspoken agreement among most men. “Since we’ve managed to escape with our lives, let’s not draw attention to ourselves. Let’s not rouse the dragon.”
Women have observed this peculiarity and wrongly assume that men don’t appreciate the importance of romance. Au Contraire!! Men exercise extreme caution --even reverence-- when romance is known to be stalking nearby. This is because romance, when she “chastises” the ladies, lashes them with velvet chords. But when the unwitting man blunders into her beguiling domain, she beats the crap out of us with rods of fiery iron.
But here’s where you separate the manly men from the boys. The manly man may skulk off with the others to lick his wounds, but he respects a tough adversary and, if the prize is worth it, he always comes back for a rematch. And, in this case, it’s worth it.
The next time around, he won’t just barge in swinging wild and blinded by his hormones. He is keenly aware that even the most experienced and skilful sailor is no match when the sea is at her worst. No man can survive the fury or romance when she’s at her cruelest. But, like the able mariner, the manly man reads and respects the signs. And, while he knows he’s never entirely safe, he learns to love her moods to revel in her calm and endure her fury. He shudders at the thought that comedian Adam Ferrara may have penned his epitaph; “If God is a woman, I’m going to hell for sure. And I’ll never know why.”
Once the manly man heals from his wounds, overcomes his fear and learns the ancient secrets of charm, he’s never altogether happy landlocked. He thrives on romance like the reverent sailor thrives on the waves.
Is it ever possible for the manly man to be the master of romance? Legend has it that some have done it. If such prodigies exist, they’re made, not born. They acquire their secrets the hard way, by years of deep study and harrowing experience.
If you want to know more, Grasshopper, I can offer you this advice. Take a few tango lessons. And as you learn, think about what you’re doing. Don’t become absorbed by your own steps. Remember that every move you make presents an opportunity for your partner to do something--splendid. I leave you with this thought. Theodor Reik, the psychoanalyst who probed the difference between love and lust said, “No one deserves to be called a man whose life is filled only with romance, but neither does he whose life was never touched by it.” Oh, by the way. May 3 was the 72nd anniversary of the day Gone With the Wind won the Pulitzer. No matter what he said, Rhett really did give a d--n.
I’m Hink and I’ll see ya.
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Posted on
Thu, May 7, 2009
by Michael Hinkle