Real men shed tears: why it's all right to cry
by Gordon Marino, Newsweek, August 27, 2007
It's my guess that the old adage "boys don't cry" went right out the window with "real men don't eat quiche" when it comes to coping with mid-life crisis'. I read this article/essay because you might say I'm still a bit uncomfortable over sharing my thoughts about my love life with a total stranger who isn't even a certified psychologist, whom I had to remit a $10 co-payment, and who didn't share any of the tribulations in his/her own life. It just doesn't feel right to pour one's soul out and not get in return a fair amount of reciprocation.
Although I'm not saying that my two sessions of therapeutic counseling were useless, I was very closed out to the helpful suggestions that I know would cure me of my blues. In two words, those two words are "Las Vegas", which, ironically enough, was where xgf was vacationing for a week when I called. Perhaps it wasn't so strange after all that she would return my call same day. Many of the topics we covered in the short twenty minutes we chatted have impacted me in a positive way. Surprisingly, she felt it relevant to describe the way she looks (now) by telling me she keeps her hair length short.
My image, I'm sorry to say, of women who wear short hair with a career in fashion is not very encouraging for me. When I say the reason I stay away from having relationships with bi-sexuals is because I get so jealous when I see a former lover with another man, seeing an old g.f. with another woman would multiply that feeling twice over, with a little envy for good measure. What more could this woman do to make me feel so broken inside? So lonely? This surely cannot apply to her, the bi-sexual condition. My xgf could be tri-sexual and I would still claim to be uncontrollably in love with her. I was insensitive by telling her my luck in love has been a failure since the good ol' days when we were in love. I needed to conjure up the same memories which seemed to be the key in my emotional moods. And I get through our brief telephone re-union quite nicely.
Although I never was able to muster the courage to ask her to marry me, the way xgf described her post highschool years, it seems I was oh so close, and yet so far. Her friend Annette had driven her to GCC and we managed to acknowledge each other's presence on the same freeway (talk about being at the right place at the right time). Then I tried my luck at LA Trade Tech where she said she was taking fashion courses at the same time I was there. I've been living my life as if her and mine paths would never cross again, when in reality, it seems we've never really been so far apart from each other.
What's depressing is that she's been married for 14 years. The moment I learned that bit of news… let's just say I was so happy to hear her voice, nothing bipolar came over me. Not that I'm bipolar.
There was a short moment while reading this essay by Gordon Marino, that I thought the person in question could possibly be Dan Marino's father. He stated that his tears could be conjured by simply thinking of a boxing match he'd been writing about—the first match Joe Frazier fought against Muhammad Ali—which in turn would bring the melancholy memories of raising his son to pursue a career in football. In Casablanca, instead of Rick saying "Of all the gin joints in the world, she has to walk into mine", his line should've read "Oh, the ironies that that woman should remind me of Isla oh so much".