Skip to main content

Man Hater? You Be the Judge.

I'm a girls' girl. I don't mean a girly girl. I don't know how to wear make up and don't shop weekly to keep up with the latest fashions. I'm not afraid to get dirt under my nails and I have a dirty and sarcastic sense of humor that guys appreciate more than women. Yet, I witnessed a certain type of gender dynamic early in my life and decided that women get the short end of the stick. As a fellow female I decided it would be my job to support and defend all the amazing things that women do and don't get credit for.

It was natural choice for me to attend an all-women's college where men (and mostly my sexual dynamic with them) could not interfere in my education and where I could develop strong, lasting relationships with, of course, more powerful and amazing women. I've continued, through my life, to make many wonderful friends, most of them female. But my sexual orientation has aligned me to spend the rest of my life side-by-side with none other than a man and to fall , willingly or not, into many of the traditional roles that I always fought against as a teenager.

I love being married and Andy defies many male stereotypes. He certainly does not define male and female roles in the house with our daily chores and thinks that my ability to succeed in the work place is just as likely as his. I've not once heard him make a sexual comment about another woman or animosity toward his female boss. Yet, we are still one man and one woman living under one roof and often our clashes are strongly supported by our inherent personalities as a stereotypical male and female.

I have decided to write about these daily struggles and to share my successes and pitfalls with the virtual world. I've been pleased at the number of readers I've gained in the last few years and have not really thought too much about their gender until recently.

I get the occasional email of support for my blog or a request to add a new reader to my feed. Not one of these requests has been from a man. I did once have a male friend make an off-hand comment about my nag blog which indicated he may have at least read one post. The other night, a male acquaintance of mine, who knows me through work, (and does not know Andy at all) approached me at an event and asked me if Andy reads the blog and if I am aware that my posts are technically accessible to everyone and anyone who wants to read them. He told me I don't hold back my opinion and lay it all on the table. At the end of the conversation I was not sure if he would call himself a fan of my writing but again, he had at least taken the time to read.

After that chat, I thought a great deal about my audience. Here I am, married now for over five years, but am I perceived as a man-hater, and not just to men but also women? Is that the perception I want others to have of me? Is this my "bitch blog"?

No, I do not want anyone to think that I don't love my husband or that I think the male gender is any less than the female. I've made several great guy friends over the years and most of my mentors have been men. I'm not a man hater. I'm not bitching. I'm being honest. I wanted to write and decided to tell you about who I really am and what really matters to me.

I'm not going to write a blog about crafting or fun, rainy day activities to do with your kids. I'm not going to blog about recipes or politics, career advising or decorating. It doesn't mean that I don't have an interest in those topics, it's more than I'm writing about what matters the most to me and in keeping true to myself, as I always have been, I'm keeping it real with you.

Andy told me recently that my blog is not marketable because there are so many other blogs out there just like mine. He's right. I'm one of a million moms writing about being a mom. I'm one more woman nagging about her husband and kids. I'm one more mom bragging about her kids and proclaiming her identity as the martyr.

I'd also like to argue against Andy's point and say that my blog is not like everyone else's because this blog is about me. I'm laying it all out on the table. Like my non-virtual personality, I say what I want to say, when I want to say it but I hope I say it in a way that makes you think , disagree or maybe relate. I'm not trying to be offensive or push anyone to believe that my way is the only way. I just want you to know that I'm out here and I have something to say.

For the record, dear readers, male and female, I am not a man-hater. I am trying to live the best life I can. That involves navigating many gender bumps and because I'm writing about my life, you are going to hear about these bumps. You don't have to tell me your bumps. You don't have to write them down and post them in a blog. You can read this and be so glad your relationship is not like mine and Andy's. You can read this and secretly smile because, even though you don't say it out loud, you know some of this is your life, too.

Whether you love my writing or hate it, are thankful to relate to someone else or appreciative of being so different (and not married to me), thanks to every man and woman out there for reading.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When The Team Won't Follow the Leader

I am aware that there are some critics out there who think that Andy and I are kind of loosey-goosey parents. Some think we don’t have enough rules or enough structure or discipline in our family. I’ve always felt really bad about this because, from one perspective, I can sort of see what they are talking about. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel guilty about being a shitty parent. My thoughts before passing out each night, exhausted, are about how I could’ve done a better job today and that I really hope I can do a better job the next day. Tomorrow is a new day to make rules and implement them, right? But I finally figured out what the missing link is for me and Andy and why we just can’t be the structured, rigid, disciplinarians that we “aspire“ to be. The other day I was picking up the kids. When we were driving home, my mind was racing with about 50 different things I needed to do at home and at work. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really present in the moment with the kids even thoug...

Charlotte's Story

What can you do in seventeen minutes? Watch an episode of your favorite sitcom without commercials? Run two miles at a good clip? Eat a meal, or in Andy's case, microwave a meal and then eat it? Have a baby? Because that's what I did. You heard me right. I birthed a baby in seventeen minutes because I am a machine. I am a machine ! I am a baby birthing woman of steel. I am not much of a bragger and you may recall that I was never good and never bad at anything. I have no particular achievements to tout, academically, physically, professionally or otherwise except baby birthing. I'm really good at this and I'm pretty darn proud of it and I'd like to brag about it to you now. This is Charlotte's birth story. For the first four or five months of my pregnancy with Charlotte, most people forgot that I was even pregnant. This does happen to you with multiple pregnancies. I never forgot that I was pregnant. Morning sickness heart burn and frequent bathroom t...

The Perennial

Turning 40 is hitting me like a ton of bricks. I’m talking somebody standing at the top of the Empire State building with a wheelbarrow of bricks that they throw on top of me as I stand on the street. Every brick that catapults toward me has a different message: Your hair is getting gray. Your eyebrows are thinning. The skin on your neck and elbows is getting soft. Your hands are wrinkly. Your midsection is getting softer and rounder. You wear progressive glasses. You wake up and go to bed really early. You talk about things like vitamins and retirement. Your back hurts when you get out of bed and when you stand too long or when you sit too long. You think about taking Metamucil or Fiber One to keep you regular. You have one glass of wine and feel hung over the next day. Your kids talk about buying bras and getting their period. You should have stood up straight as a kid because now your neck and back are stuck in this awkward, turtle-like position, and it...