Posts Tagged Social

Water Finds Its Own Level

There I was, with my good friend Don Julio on the rocks in hand, mingling amongst a couple dozen movers and shakers at a low-key event on a Downtown L.A. rooftop lounge…and I saw something spectacular that stunned me frozen like I just got tasered. What did I see? Quite frankly, I saw one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever observed – so smoldering, so breathtaking, that I thought for a second that if I didn’t look away, I might forever burn my retinas (where is that cardboard with the a pin-hole when you need it?). I had Michael, my main Musee (those who I muse and inspire) with me and he immediately spotted the same thing and knew exactly what just captured my attention. However, it didn’t take long to notice an extremely evident flaw. No, it wasn’t bad fashion because she was dressed impeccably! It wasn’t BO or halitosis, for her scent was as fresh as Chanel No.5 and Binaca. Nor was it body-art or multiple piercings because this Ferrari had no bumper-stickers or dings! She was like a fine automobile should be: 100% factory stock, fully loaded and showroom glowing.

Yet, she had one flaw that quickly surfaced and was impossible to ignore. This poor heavenly body seemed to have an abnormal growth; it probably just started as an innocent Stage 5 Clinger but soon must have mutated to a full-feeding sycophant. Yes, this beautiful creature had a guy sucked onto her like a pesky Remora that was able to hitch the ultimate ride on a Blue Marlin. I didn’t quite understand it…she being darn near flawless had this stooge who seemed to be tethered to her by a 2-foot invisible umbilical cord.

Now, don’t peg me as a superficial ass just yet. I support and have given many an average guy mad-props when he has reached far above his orbit to snag some insane catch; but usually I admire such guys because they seem to be oozing a certain charm or personality and carry the swagger of an Adonis even though their mere physical appearance would not reflect it. Although they may outwardly appear like a mortal plebian, they possess a certain j’ne sais quoi that can captivate and woo, the most militant evil woman. However, this fellow in question didn’t seem to boast any redeemable trait or skill that could convince me of worthiness. He didn’t seem to be holding a scholarly conversation with anyone, he wasn’t David Blain entertaining or cracking any jokes, there wasn’t any indication of any bit of deep intellectualism and didn’t seem to have the physical prowess to impress even the average soccer player.

I was curious and wanted to shake his hand, introduce myself and strike up a little convo, but the only place his right hand seemed to have any interest in being was clutched firmly around her right shoulder; and I mean clutched…you could actually see his knuckles flushed white from the kung-fu grip he had on her upper arm. She turned, he turned. She took a step, he took a step. She went to the bar, he went to the bar. She walked to the heater, he walked to the heater. She went to the bathroom, he waited at the door! Seriously?!?!? Throttle back there Terminator, that ain’t Sara Conner! I imagined him observing the surroundings through the eye of a Robocop/Terminator type heads-up display, scanning his environment for potential threats to his catch, for he seemed to act in such a manner.

As my Musee and I stood and observed this incredible display of body language, her stock plummeted from a hard 10 to a soft 6. All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but become a little judgmental, jumping to the conclusion that she must be a 49er with shovel in purse and found her man-mine. I don’t know what it could have been…maybe that multiple karat rock the size of a small meteor she was sporting? Or maybe, could it be that she saw this Armani Exchange, Ed Hardy Skinny Jeans wearing fashionista as the rock of stability and security? He really could have been a great guy…but I sure wasn’t seeing it. Then something my mother used to tell me came to me:

“If you want to see the content of someone’s character, look no further than his/her friends.”

I’ll take it a step further and say: your significant other should be the ultimate reflection of yourself; after all, he/she is not referred to as a “better half” for nothing.

With all these observations and thoughts swirling around my dome, I turned to my peeps and remarked, “Water seeks its own level.” Michael looked at me with a perplexed expression on his face. (Being an etymologist and the ultimate wordsmith, I’ve never seen him get stumped when it comes to the English language, although my jive always jacks him up.) I explained that regardless of the size of a container, with all things being equal, water finds a level that will be the same no matter where in the container it is poured. So the level at one end will be exactly the same level as the other end…be it a lake or a bath tub. Metaphorically speaking, in a liquid social container, the superficial ones will find a match of their level; those with depth usually end up with other profound ones. This could be either physical, intellectually or emotionally, or more likely an average of the three. And, for the most part, it is a subconscious thing – Like attracts like.

The reality is, so often we see couples that esthetically or on the surface do not match, however it really doesn’t matter how different their surface appearance might be. I’m willing to bet that their depth and substance are usually a pretty good match. To put it in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions: that smoking hot gold-digger usually ends up with a shallow cheese-monkey; that silicone botox status-jumping Barbie eventually finds that Time-Warner exec on Wife 4.0; that Snookie J-Wow Chanel Guidette winds up with that juiced-out Jersey Shore gym rat. We attract who we are – not merely based upon our outward appearance – but more so based upon our inner-self. So when we keep on wondering why we end up with the asses, the crazies, the wall-punchers, binge-drinkers, etc., check yourself, recalibrate and step your game up…Eagles don’t hang out with pigeons!

There are two points that I feel I must address. First off, it may seem that I’m not a huge fan of Public Displays of Affection but that isn’t completely accurate. There have been many of times and relationships where I have enjoyed and embraced PDA. True, some of it really depended on whom I was with, but what was more important was whence it was coming. Meaning, if it felt like the clinging and petting was coming from a place of possession, insecurity, neediness or territorialism, then I would begin to feel uncomfortable, smothered and turned-off. However, if it came from a place of genuine love, affection and desire, then it wouldn’t bother me (unless it became inappropriate, full-fledged macking at table P7 at STK). Secondly, when I walk into a room with my girl, it doesn’t offend me, threaten me, nor make me uncomfortable if every guy in the joint checks her out and mutters comments. I want them to look and gawk. If they speak or act inappropriately, then it’s curb-stomp go time, but I like to think that I’m secure enough in myself and my relationship that I won’t lose my mojo over some random. I feel bad for the guy who displays either—or both—of the aforementioned points…because it’s going to be a long, difficult, paranoid life spent c-blocking the world.

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Let’s Get Things Straight

It seems like in this day and age, many things that used to be clear cut no longer fall into black or white.  The lines have been moved, blurred or just flat our erased.  So things that were once obvious are now much more ambiguous, like…gender roles, proper etiquette and how much to tip in most circumstances…just to name a few.


When it comes to social norms and pop culture, Hollyweird has lead the charge in making sure certain roles have taken on all new meanings and it almost seems like anything goes.  Nothing is what it used to be and opposite day has found a shared home with those smart asses in 2nd and 3rd grade.  All this back and forth, black and white, has made many people very uneasy.  What are the proper rules of etiquette, fashion, or social norms?  What’s correct? What is modern day West Coast Faux Pas?  We now have men having babies, same sex marriages, women that are more muscular than most men, and so many things that have become uni-sex that we aren’t really sure what belongs to who.  I’m no judge and jury on what social agendas are “wassup” or “ish-no-think-so” nor will I attempt to be.  But however, I’m going to try and make a gallant effort to lay down some knowledge bombs of metro-culture and what I believe goes.  This one especially hits kinda close to home because I have some buddies that are a little freaked out and seem to think certain things are “gay” (and I don’t mean joyous).  If there were certain things would make you have to relinquish your UberMan-Card and cross over to the fabulous Liberachi world here they are:


Lingo is very important and certain verbiage should be restricted exclusive to my gay friends.


I actually had an experience when a male friend of mine referred to his girlfriend getting a blow-out.  Gentlemen!…when referring to a women getting anything done to her hair you don’t say any of the following: getting high-lights, low-lights, perm, perm-press, hair relaxed, getting extensions, and for God’s sake never say she is getting a blow-out.  You simply say she is getting her hair done or hair did.  No more, no less.


Now when it comes to colors always refer to the original Crayola Crayon colors such as black, white, red, blue, green, etc.  Never refer to any of the following colors: taupe, fuchsia, mauve, salmon…you get the point. As far as fruit colors…orange and peach are the only ones you can refer to. If it’s a tweener (that means in-between) color then combine the manly ones you know. Example: Tope can be described as a “dull rusty brown color.”


Referring to anything as “fabulous” isn’t becoming of a straight man…neither is calling anything as “gorgeous” unless it is in reference to a female.  Ubermales who want to add Man points can say “tight,” “solid,” and “hottie” if referring to a woman.


Now on to activities that are gay and not.  Yes D, this is for you.


Contrary to some peoples belief manicures and pedicures are not gay.  As a mater of fact it could be a very positive attribute for men to have fairly good feet and hands.  After all what woman wants some alligator cheese crust feet or callous eagle talons touching them?  It’s not gay people…it’s being hygienic.  Now if you live in a nail salon…that’s pretty gay.  I also know that I have pushed the envelope on this one by getting my big toes painted black and having a Cross and Star put on them (she couldn’t do the skull and cross bones) but just trying to be fashion forward and start a new man-trend.  Now if I would have gotten red and had them put flowers on their I would hand over my man-card but under these circumstances I keep it.


The gym culture and fitness trend continues to grow, and as we become increasingly active recovery also becomes important.  In my search for a good activity that balances my lifting and outdoor cardio I discovered yoga.  It has been a great discovery!  I get a great workout and feel like it absolutely helps my recovery.  Is it gay?  Absolutely not!  If men were smarter they would make it a point to go.  It is a great workout, helps maintain flexibility, and helps core strength and posture.  Besides, the ratio is totally on our side…it’s at least 4 to 1 odds girls to guys.  Where else do you get those odds and have hot bodied women squatting, stretching, and getting all bendy a foot away from you?  All upside…I really don’t see a down side.


As far as activities that are gay…well you can basically gay out anything.  Rollerblading is one of those.  If you wear the right gear you should be okay.  But if you flounder around in short jean cut-offs and a wife-better 2 sizes to small while you’re blading Venice Beach, you might set off every gaydars from WeHo to Malibu.  If you’re not sure how to gear up for Roller blading, I got a better solution… Get a skateboard and don’t even think about roller-skates. 


Going to bathhouses is a gay activity.


On to fashion and social behavior…


Straight men’s belts must go through belt loops and buckle at the front.  None of this buckling between the first and second belt loop crap.


No gloves unless it’s really friken cold! Especially no single glove (so you ask who does this…I swear some Cheese Sprite at a bar the other night).  It is not feminine to wear workout gloves in the gym but it is certainly not Alpha Male.


Absolutely no skinny Jeans!!  Leave this one for women.


No murses or man-bags…want to carry more shit than your pockets can handle?  Get a back-pack or messenger bag. 


No fanny packs for straight men (I don’t care if it’s Gucci, Louie Vuitton, or any other brand). I have no clue as to why this one is even still in existence.  You can thank the gym/bodybuilding culture for keeping this one around.  The rationale being that most bodybuilders’ legs have gotten so massive that when they wear pants nothing fits in their pockets…I don’t care…find another solution!!!  If you are an anesthesiologist you get a pass on this one but only in hospitals.  Since they are all in scrubs and scrubs only have 2 pockets it makes sense to have something small and accessible to put all their goodies in.


Wearing a shear or cut-off shirt is gay.  The only way you get to wear a cut-off or shimmy shirt is if you play football…American Football. Not some Westside intramural league crap or that other one people refer to as soccer.


When ordering a drink straight men should never order anything pink, bright yellow (exception: vodka or whatever with Red Bull), neon green, purple, or bright blue.  Stick to clear, shades of amber or darker/muted yellows.  Gooey drinks and Tropical drinks are only allowed when…yes…you guessed it…when in The Tropics or maybe day drinking at a pool or beach bar.  Also if the name of the drink sounds gay or fruity…then it is gay and fruity.  No Cosmos, Sex on the Beach, Purple Woo Woo.  Lastly if it comes in a test tube with whip cream or has ice cubes that light up do not touch it.  If I have to explain this further you might as well come out already.


Indoor tanning for men is not gay however getting to George Hamilton burn sausage brown color from the Megatron 1000 Bed as you dry roast your nuts is pretty gay.


Having frosted tips…not gay but certainly not uber-male.


And for my buddy G-Love…I concur that Sunglasses indoors isn’t gay but it certainly is douchebaggery!


Also men should drive men’s cars…No VW Bug or Rabbit, and no Sebring, 


I hope this help clarify some things.  This could be a living document so feel free to add and give insight and we can continue to write the Uber-Metro-Male By-Laws.


BTW…I don’t see how but I hope this doesn’t offend anyone…and if it does.  Sorry and get over it.

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