Not for dating, mind you. That would be selfish of me.
And anyway, As I've indicated, I've resigned from dating. I've collected my gold pen and officially declared Boo my life partner. Or is it a gold watch? And is that retirement? Maybe I've retired from dating. Whichever means you've left after a long, healthy and productive (but not reproductive) career...that's the route I've taken.
Anyway, I'm researching men for some articles I've written and am continuing to write. Until, that is, they start interviewing for Oprah's replacement. Then I'll probably have to hop up to Chicago for a chat. You know the routine.
But for now, I need to know where to submit the articles and how to market the articles more effectively. That means finding out who today's man is. Who is this man I'm writing to? What's he all about? What does he want?
Well, let's just say, it's a good thing I have Boo.
Cause today's man wants a lot of things and they have nothing to do with me.
First of all, today's man apparently still wants to be like Jimmy Buffett.
Y-A-A-A-A-W-N.
Personally, I have just never understood the appeal of Mr. B. And honestly, can I please meet the woman who does get that whole thing? Basically, he's just a drunk slob who's too lazy to wear shoes that lace up and shirts that tuck in. Right? And he hangs at the beach. Right?
Well, he's now gracing the cover of Men's Health. Providing a wonderful role model for grown men everywhere. And he's wearing a wetsuit. Guess he got too lazy for buttons too.
But these same guys who pray to the beached whale also want amazing abs. Apparently some readers - some guys - are looking at those glossy photos of other guys baring their rock-hard ribbed mid-sections. I guess guys share an unwritten rule: when the point of the picture is to notice the cut of the abs for "training" purposes, it doesn't trigger the "you're know you're gay" dig.
Men still want fancy cars. No surprise here. But now they're Cadillacs and the Cadillacs look like SUVs. Very strange.
And, of course, men still want babes in de minimis coveris. Out of the many men's magazines I perused, all contained babes in either bikinis or mini skirts. The babes were all models, of course. Oddly enough, all of the babes in bikinis had full make up, stilettos and flowing hair. No greasy hair pulled back in scrunchies there. And not one had forehead indentations from goggles. Damn!
And the mini skirt babes? You could always see their panties. And none of them had old, tired panties. All the panties were lacy and vibrant in the newest, brightest colors of the season. They were all the color of fruit!
Men still want techie toys. Now they can listen to music while they scuba. Yay!
And of course there are now more and better and even higher tech methods of getting GPS info on their handheld devices. Very exciting. But for the fact that none of the guys I know - except for one - has learned how to use that technology. The one who does know how to use it doesn't need it. He's walking on a path that's marked for him by those who have already hiked it.
Men still want to get some. I guess that's par for the course.
In one of the magazines, there's a cartoon. The guy says "Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I've been wanting to kiss you badly." The girl says "You've succeeded." Or something like that.
That's a pretty funny cartoon. Kind of surprising though. I'd expect to see that kind of "guys are lame" humor in a women's magazine. But apparently, even the guys are joking about their lamer side. Hey, there's the follow up to The Far Side!! The Lame Side. If only I could draw.
What's missing in the men's magazines is all the how to hoopla of the women's magazines. Women's mags are basically ads and how to.
How to get a man. How to keep a man. How to know if he's a man. How to be a man if your man says he's into women who are men.
Women's magazines spend all of their glossiness telling women what to buy and how to change. The underlying message of the women's magazines is the same message women have heard all their lives from their mothers.
You'll be a success when a man has chosen you. But no man will choose you until you dress differently. And wear different makeup. And change your hairstyle. And get a better job.
No man will want you until you become a different person.
And then, of course, when you get a man to choose you, the magazines are right there to help you:
How to change your man. How to make your man want to change. How to make your man want to change even though everyone says you can't change your man.
Women's magazines are the ultimate in telling women that they - and their mates - are just not any damn good. And certainly never good enough.
The men's magazines have no such negative messages.
The men's magazines all basically say the same thing:
You Rock!! You SO &#@(@ ROCK!!
The men's magazines celebrate how amazing men are and how they should totally be in those totally hot Cadillac SUVs with those totally hot models who can't help but show their totally hot panties when they sit down in their totally hot mini skirts.
So what man is going to read my stupid little essays?
I've written 101 lousy essays on how a man can get laid. And how he can get laid pretty damn well. Or at least how he can get his foot - or his other foot - in the door.
But the essays assume he wants to get laid by Tina Fey. Or Janeanne Garafolo. Or Uma Thurman. Or real girls. Girls who wear skirts long enough to cover their panties. Girls who read newspapers even when the camera's not filming. Girls with enough of an opinion to decide for themselves how they'll dress and wear their hair. Real smart girls.
Two problems: first, those aren't the women gracing the pages of the men's magazines; and second - even if they were - men aren't used to being advised.
But the thing is, I know a bunch of stuff. I've been dealing with these guys for a long time. And I like them. I really really like them. But it's just stupid that I know what really turns real girls on and some of these guys don't. I want them to know. I want them to benefit from my experience.
So, here's the question:
How to write a how to? For men.
Allowing, of course, for the fact that men don't speak the how to language.
Part of me thinks the tips should be written on the panties of the models. Maybe I can start the new trend of subliminally assisting men. You know, the "Read My Lips" campaign or something cute like that.
The other part of me thinks I'm underestimating men.
Women, after all, have been sold the low self-esteem marketing for decades. Why can't men adapt to that? I mean, really. Men are getting facials and pedicures now. And using lots of products that smell good. Can't they learn how to think they're worthless? Can't they learn to think they need lots of advice too?
Nah.
No way.
Hey, do guys read beer cans the way they read the backs of cereal boxes?