Friday, October 2, 2015

Don't Look Now

Okay, guys, before I rain on your parade, let me say that I’m with you: women are incredible. Gorgeous, virtually all of them. Among the most beautiful creations in the natural world. There shouldn’t be anything wrong with looking at them, finding them astonishing, and even saying so in the right circumstances.

So why is it that they don’t always consider it a compliment when we glance smilingly at them or remark on how lovely they appear to us?

Honestly, the answer here is so simple I shouldn’t have to point it out.

But we’re guys, and guys can be dense, so I’ll go ahead and explain it with a couple of quick mental exercises. 

First, I want you to imagine that you’re working at a job you like, a job you put a lot of pride and effort into and that you’re good at. You studied your ass off getting the right degree or training for it, you gave a genius interview, you’ve done everything right since you were hired, you’ve saved your team’s butts with your creative ideas on a regular basis, you’re always on time, you stay late when you need to – you’re the perfect employee.

And no one ever says anything appreciative to you about any of that.

Well, maybe once in a while someone does, but for the most part, they just take your talent and intelligence and work ethic for granted. Other people get lots of kudos for their efforts and get promoted every year or two, but your career just kind of putters along unnoticed.

So now imagine you’re walking down the hall, and a coworker says, “Hey, nice bipedalism, buddy! I mean, you’re just being exceptionally bipedal today.”

Then, a little later, you’re in a meeting, and your boss says, “Look at you and your opposable thumbs. Lots of people have thumbs, but you sure know how to oppose them. Good job.”
Nothing about your terrific productivity. Nothing about that suggestion of yours that made the whole department look good. Just regular and consistent compliments about attributes that are mere artifacts of being born human. 
You may very well think you have a really nice walk. You may consider your hand-eye coordination better than average, and maybe in elementary school you were best at “One-Two-Three-Four, I Declare a Thumb War.” But compliments about having two legs and opposable thumbs are still likely to  sit ill with you if all your real accomplishments are being overlooked.
Mental exercise number two:
You’re walking down the street. For whatever reason, you need to find something in your wallet, so you take it out and start digging around in it. As you’re walking along, you realize that someone significantly larger than you is approaching from the other direction, staring at your wallet. When you look up, the person smiles and says, “That’s a nice wallet full of money you’ve got there.” 
Even if the smile looks genuine and you’re on a crowded street where nothing is likely to happen, isn’t that going to make you uncomfortable? Especially if it happens again half a block later, and another block after that? 
“Yeah, that money’s lookin’ good, dude.”
“Whoo-eee! You’re loaded, aren’t you?”
How many comments like that will it take before you put your wallet away and hurry onward even though you may not have found whatever business card or free-coffee coupon you were looking for?
The thing is, if you see someone who has surprisingly good opposable thumbs or a really confident walk, or if you see someone in possession of an impressive sum of money in their billfold, it really ought to be a nice thing for you to comment on it, if you truly mean it in a positive, encouraging way. But in the world we live in, people often go unvalued for their talents, hard work, and striving. And in the world we live in, people are regularly accosted by strangers and relieved of their money through physical force or threat of violence. These facts create a context in which compliments about bipedalism and fat wallets could easily be unpleasant and even hurtful, regardless of the intent behind them.
So if you want to live in a world where you’re free to look at women as you like and tell passing strangers how beautiful you find them, then you need to get to work. You need to build a civilization in which women receive all the rewards and acclaim they deserve for their personal accomplishments and abilities. You need to build a civilization in which women feel completely safe at all times from unwanted physical advances and sexual assault.
You need to create a world in which people feel valued enough, and safe enough, that appreciative observation of their superficial attributes won’t be taken the wrong way.
In the meantime, if you just can’t repress your instinct to make eye contact with pretty women in public and smile at them, here’s a suggestion: 
Smile at everyone.
If we all did that, and meant it, I guarantee you many things would get better much more quickly.

Monday, September 14, 2015

Ewoks = Inequity!

I thought this article did a nice job summing up some of the issues that challenge us when we talk about the representation of women in film. And yeah, my purported reason for linking to it is that I'm a feminist and think it's an important topic ... but if I'm being honest, I have to admit it's really because I just plain hate Ewoks.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Thursday, February 12, 2015

Self-driving Cars

You know, if those supposedly right-around-the-corner self-driving cars ever show up, won't it eventually mean there's no such thing as a back seat? I mean, at first they'll still have steering controls in case you have to take over driving, or in case you get outside the range of whatever brainiac computer controls city traffic. But eventually, they'll all be totally self-driving, and they might as well have the rows of seats facing each other, right?

Will there soon be whole generations of people who won't understand the concept of losing your virginity in the back seat of a car?

I'm Number One!

Woohoo! If I'm allowed to pat my back a bit, my most recent Literotica.com serial, Contrast, has landed the all-time highest-rated spot in its category, Interracial Romance.

These things shift and change over time, and who knows how long it will stay there. But at least it seems like I'm doing something right.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Here's What a Big Softie I Am

On the second night of our recent vacation to Disneyland, my wife and I went in the hotel's concierge lounge, where the TV on the wall was showing "Toy Story 3."  I assumed it was just somewhere in the middle of the film, and that I was safe. We got our snacks and sat down, my wife to one side of the table and her purse in the chair opposite the screen, which meant I had to sit with my back to the TV if I wanted to sit next to her. Which made me think I was even safer.

As we nibbled on cheese and crackers and chips and salsa and tiny pastries, I could hear enough of the dialogue to make me turn my head a couple of times, and I realized we'd come in at the very end of the show. I snacked some more and chatted with my wife and tried to play it cool, but I kept looking more and more often, and when I found I'd emptied my plate, I went for seconds and moved my wife's bag instead of returning to my original seat.

My wife laughed at me for not being able to avoid watching, then said a couple of things about it being such a good scene.  By the time it got to the part where the toys are holding hands, I was sniffling and rubbing the corner of my eye, and my wife said, "Awww, do you need a tissue, honey?"

But instead of embarrassing me in front of the handful of other adults in the room (no children), the comment brought a spontaneous shared blubbering from everyone present about what a wonderful and sad and perfect scene it was, and we all laughed and (some of us) cried our way through the rest of the movie, turning in the snap of a finger from three or four separately conversing clusters into a single whole, united in a state of silly, weepy joy at our inability to stop watching this cartoon. I was the only man there, and I have to admit I took a certain bizarre pride in being the one whose tears turned the switch that brought us so instantly together.

There's something about allowing yourself to feel, and especially to feel alongside others, that is its own special reward.

Isn't it bizarre how often we hold ourselves back from that?