Hillcrest Waiters and Three-toothed Men

The Rolling Stones blared louder and louder as the evening brought clarity to the paradox that was men-women relationships. You could hear the night filled with Mick Jager yelling something from one of his earlier hits, doesn't really matter... Just like the waiter who was rubbing the back of my arm didn't matter. Although, having that attention was rather mind-numbing and made me pray that I wasn't gay. It was mind-numbing in the sense that women, unless sluts, would never do this. It was casual, but revealing. Too revealing. Yet, as much as it made me hope that I still fancied the va-g-g, it made me realized how easier it would be to be gay.
The entire week had been filled with an internal struggle of not understanding the role men played in women's lives and the role we wanted them to play in ours. My entire life had been about seeing a woman as my equal. My mom brought me up this way. Although her fight to be at the same level as man turned out to be a fight between the sheets. Letting any man near her that would let her feel the least bit like she had some say. When in actuality the only say she had was where she would let them take advantage of her. She was a good mom, or at least tried to be, so she always made sure it was some place that she would think I wouldn't know what was going on.
That was the problem. Women think that they have some control in it all. They don't and apparently they don't want it anyway. They want to feel like they do, but subconsciously they know that the man is superior.
I can't grasp this. I truly can't. It makes it incredibly difficult to ever ensure a trusting relationship with a woman. There's always going to have to be a false sense of an equilibrium. But no balance will truly be there, because that's what the woman wants, but she would never tell you.
Not like Dennis, the waiter in Hillcrest. I'm sure he would tell you, "this is what I want and this is how I feel." Ewww... God, I can't believe I just vocalized what a gay guy would say to me. But I'm sure its the way he would be, just by the way he gave me my burger and asked if I needed another round.
Hell yeah, I needed another round, because you have guys like Michael out there who fuck up the few occasions when a man has it perfect. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the relationship that he had with Jenna. Jenna was, "like a guy." But only in the sense that she didn't mind being one of the guys, cause she sure as hell didn't look like one of the guys. But Michael fucked up that one, because he couldn't tell her he was afraid. If he hadn't gone and screwed the boney-kneed chick then 20 years later he would still have been the shell of a man with every fear tucked inside. He would be like George, at 61, with his wife screwing someone else. I guess Michael got it right then. Rather screw than be screwed.
And that is the point. No one should screw anyone... not anyone else at least. The game that gets played between the sexes so infantile and yet so immanent. It's immanent, because the art of seducing and keeping a woman demands this. This demand is too high for most. Too high for me.
So I'll demand my round and I'll listen to the loud blaring music, but change the Stones to something more Indie. I'll stare at the pooch by my feet and the one over her pants. And I'll wonder why the three-toothed man decided he could hit on a girl, when he was clearly swinging the other way. And I'll keep my thoughts of equality a secret so she thinks that she has a man who can throw her around. It's what she wants. Dr. Laura said so...

Summer 2006