Women may be from Venus, but men are from multiple planets and unidentified solar systems…

2 Apr

Yes, I said it.  Men not only come in different shapes and sizes, but they exhibit a range of personality traits greater than the menu selection at your local Cheesecake Factory.  Hot and cold, heavy on the spice, bland, deep-fried Southern or grilled city fare… the options are endless.  But what if, on one particular night in one particular place, none of these options are appealing?  Instead you fancy a simple yogurt and a nutty powerbar…

While skimming the February issue of Glamour magazine, I happened upon an entertaining system of categorizing men, one which left me scratching my head as to where past and present male acquaintances should be placed.  Did I know any “Coffee Shop Intellectuals”?  Why did I laugh so loudly when I read the stats for the “Man-Child”?  Could it be my incessant need to fix people that always leads me to the man-child?  Were there other categories of men with which I had first hand experience?  The smirk on my face said it all when I discovered there really was a guy classified as the “Sexy Foreigner”.

On a particular Saturday night, three equally amazing women rooted in different parts of the world descended upon the streets of San Francisco.  Although they didn’t know what the night would produce, they were assured that the words interesting and noteworthy would be descriptive elements as they chatted over coffee the next morning.  Little did they know that a series of male classifications would ensue based on the encounters to come…

The dimly lit XYZ bar, slightly reminiscent of a NYC Soho lounge, offered an eclectic mix of individuals sipping everything from whiskey on the rocks to exotic martini blends.  We moved observantly from one end of the bar to the other, settling upon white leather couches sectioned off with a minor level of privacy.  Sipping martinis known as Aphrodisiacs, we began to relax and enjoy each other’s company, sharing stories of days past when responsibilities were less and the drinks were, well, flowing.  We began to notice the segmentation of the crowd, many people arriving together and choosing not to mingle but keep a low profile, hovering over their drinks and conversation as if they were guarding some long lost treasure.  One of us, a brave soul, decided to interject herself into a not so delicate conversation at the bar, and within minutes she presented us with a group of men; well, let’s be honest: boys.  This is where the fun begins!

Yoga Boy was an original, one who couldn’t be classified in one clear cut profile.  Was he a Man-Child?  A Workaholic?  He seemed to have a great job in the financial sector, and his dress was impeccable, but underneath it all he was a boy in a man’s clothing.  The humor was manageable, but his name says it all: YOGA BOY.  Have you ever met someone that proceeds to show you his yoga moves in the middle of the bar?  Seriously?  Touting the fact that he could do the downward dog with one leg in the air (yes, he could actually do it), he had to prove it as a kid would prove that he could do a backflip.  Look mommy, I can do it!  Yes Jimmy, that was amazing!

Soccer Steve was the guy who is almost too young to be there and wishes he had more life experience to feel complete in the group!  I didn’t personally interact with Soccer Steve, so my accounts are loosely based on another’s interpretations (had to get that out of the way).  Soccer Steve was some sort of “Pick-up Artist”, rambling on and on about what he had experienced or planned to experience in order to impress.  This may sound like the typical guy to you, but there is one small detail that remains to be said: the experiences never happened!  Who in their right mind begins to tell stories about something they experienced, then stop to say well, that never really happened?  Tell me, who does that?  Was he bi-polar and afraid of admitting his chemical imbalance to the world?  I guess this classifies Soccer Steve as a pathological liar, although I rather fancied him as the boy next to me in 10th grade wearing his headgear and braces.  Did I mention he is a poet as well?

Amoeba is an interesting diversion to the chaos that had previously ensued.  He seemed to blend with the world, possibly going unnoticed even if he stood in a field of bright yellow sunflowers wearing the pink bunny suit from A Christmas Story.  In addition to his unattractive blending quality, he seemed to have no back bone whatsoever, exhibiting a level of flexibility that left you wondering if he ever stood up for anything in his life.  I know this sounds a bit harsh, but when something is obvious it is just obvious.  If I had to give Amoeba a check mark in a woman’s little black book, it would be for his niceness.  He was truly a nice guy.  That’s it.  No more, no less.

I have to interject here to point out that the next person mentioned in this blog is someone I previously knew, or I should say, met at a dinner function 2 weeks prior to this particular night.

We will refer to this guy as simply “The Life Coach”.  This is one of Glamour’s specific classifications and I think he fits it to some extent.  I dare not give him a humorous classification because he seems to be, well, normal.  It was quite accidental that I ran into him, not expecting to see him on this particular night in a city of several hundred thousand people.  He is a kind person, although I know little of him at this point.  We had what I would consider a normal conversation for the rest of the evening, sneaking sarcastic glances at the following men trying desperately to make a place for themselves in my friends’ lives:

The Poker: Literally… he is a poker.  Having recently (as in that day) experienced a class on intimacy, his eyes grew ten times wider when he settled on his first victim.  It reminded me of the look on someone’s face when they have their first spiritual awakening, or possibly the look that a cheesy 80’s  film vampire gets just before he sinks his teeth into a beautiful young maiden.  He described a level of intimacy as that of touch, at that point literally poking my friend in the arm.  Was he serious?  She began to counsel him on the appropriate forms of touch, possibly some light touch with the back of the hand on the upper arm.  But a poke?  What’s up with that?  Oh, and did I mention that John looked a bit like Grizzly Adams?

Another equally disturbing socialite was the Close Talker.  This one reminds me of a past Seinfeld episode that, if you grew up in my generation, you most likely have seen it at least 10 times.  Close Talker approached my friend, expressing his interest with simple but deep words: “Sara, what defines you?”  As he asked this rather private question as an opening dialogue, his face nearly touched hers with eyes wide and bright.  As if she were on an episode of Law n’ Order, the interrogation room lights glaring in her tiny petite face, short sentences describing her life flowed from her lips.  I think fear had set in, to be perfectly honest.  The next question from the Close Talker was simply: “Does North Carolina define Sara?”  I could see the anxiety building in her, so I quickly saved her with the typical girlfriend exit to the powder room.  So expected yet revolutionary.

The Breeder.  Typically, one knows not to divulge too much information on a first date, let alone a first meeting in a place where alcoholic beverages are consumed.  Well, the Breeder broke all of the rules, transcending above any woman in a way that was, quite frankly, unappealing.  While dancing and laughing their way across the lobby of the W Hotel, he simply stated that there is a connection between the Jewish (referring to himself) and the Irish (my friend) in which they both love to breed.  So, let’s breed.  Really?  Was he serious?  What did he expect her to say?  Well, come on honey… my apartment is just down the street and you are my knight in shining armor that I have been waiting for all of my life.  Can you hear the wedding bells chime?

Last, but definitely not least, was Dark Matter.  Dark Matter was another anomaly, many more than I ever anticipated encountering in one night.  Have you ever met one of those guys who feels he must boost himself up to make a good impression?  I sat back on the couch, watching this encounter between Dark Matter and my friend as if a filmstrip was playing out in front of my eyes.  Dark Matter was a physics professor, and this of course I asked him to prove.  His long dark locks of hair, cascading around his face like that of a boy band member in Hanson, didn’t seem to fit his astute description of himself. He pulled out his college ID’s, working diligently to prove he wasn’t a fake in order to gain the respect of my disinterested friend.  Just as I thought the conversation was going to end, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips!  I felt as if I was watching a first kiss in a John Hughes’ 80’s film, as her lack of interest in kissing him appeared to be an awkwardness for kissing in general.  It was quite entertaining, although at that point I knew the night was over.  At least for our abnormal encounters it was finished.

To end a rather eventful night we strolled to the closest Mel’s Diner for some good ol’ breakfast food.  I enjoyed a BLT and a giant glass of chocolate milk, all the while laughing about the guys (boys) we had recently met.  Why were they trying so hard?  What is so difficult about being social without overanalyzing a situation?  Do these guys really need girlfriends?  Are they ready?  My friend summed it up best: they should start with a dog.

All guy classifications in “–” can be referenced in Glamour Magazine’s February 2010 Issue.

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2 Responses to “Women may be from Venus, but men are from multiple planets and unidentified solar systems…”

  1. Bryan Gira April 2, 2010 at 3:33 pm #

    Jeez, sounds like you lived an entire year of mingling in one single night. It’s difficult for me to believe that guys like this actually exist but apparently they do. Definitely giving the male of the species a bad name. I wonder if it has anything to do with the city in which you’re socializing?

  2. The Life Coach April 2, 2010 at 4:38 pm #

    Normal sounds so Amoeba/Blender.

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