Seats? Selfishness? Or self-determination?

The other day my friend (let's call him Billy) told me how he and his wife (let's call her Buffy) got into an argument about sports. To qualify, they are both college football fanatics. They didn't argue about which team would win; they didn't argue about the strength of this offense or that defense; and not even about his propensity to gamble on the games. No, Billy and Buffy locked horns on where to sit.

This seemed odd to me. Of all the things men and women have fought about regarding sports, seats, for me, was a first. They agreed on the importance of being at the stadium for the game. They also agreed they would spend $X on the seats. All good so far. He then explained that he wanted to sit in club level -- where a fully stocked bar would be at the ready -- instead of their usual 50-yd-line seats. Billy reasoned that because it would be a championship game, it might be nice to enjoy it with a few cocktails.

The two of them have been to countless regular-season games together. They have tailgated. They have crisscrossed the nation as superfans. For 20+ years they have lauded the successes and denounced the defeats of said team. But Billy's suggestion on seats caused a huge uproar.

Needless to say, Buffy's argument confounded Billy. "Why do you need to be near the bar?" she asked. "We are already going to be tailgating before the game. We are supposed to be at the stadium to watch the game, not get stumbling drunk."

To me, this is an interesting bit of interaction. Let me preempt the obvious argument. This post is not about drinking or getting drunk during sporting events. We've all witnessed punch-drunk idiots dribble and wobble their way through stunning victories and harrowing defeats.  It is not big. It is not clever.
 

What's interesting to me is that the importance of having a choice seemed to be lost on Buffy. Billy was the first to admit that he may have 5 drinks or no drinks during the game. The amount is not the point.

The point is that if it is available (NCAA games do not have beer vendors) to Billy, he'd like to be able to exercise a shred of self-determination. He'd like to be able to decide, on the spot, if he's in the mood for a beer at that particular point in time.

I guess I don't understand Buffy's logic in this case. Perhaps she's worried Billy will drink too much at the game. I guess I see that. But surely if Billy thinks he won't have access to beer during the game, that would encourage him to binge during pre-game festivities. Right or wrong?

Conversely, he would be more likely to pace himself and drink responsibly if he knows the nearest watering hole is a mere stones throw from his seat. Si o no?    

Maybe I'm missing something. Actually, I am sure I'm missing something. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons Buffy drew her line in the sand. This post, however, is not about drinking. It is about autonomy. Never underestimate the importance of a man feeling like he has a choice; feeling like he has some say over what he does and where he goes.

Men don't always want their way. That is selfishness. That is egotistical. That is for another post. What we do want though is to feel like we are being heard and that our feelings are being considered. Men hate like poison the condescension that comes with being told what to do.

Thoreau has it right. Self-determination is not about selfishness, it is about confidence. Men and women of the blogosphere, we can all agree, none of us want to feel small or patronized. We are not cattle. Rather than leading each other around with a rope and a ring in the nose, let's try this: Empower one another to make thoughtful decisions and once those decisions are made, trust each other.

As always, let me know how it works out. JR

We're simple...I promise

Ladies, guys are simple. I promise. Actually, let me qualify that: heterosexual guys are simple. I only differentiate because I only know a handful of gay guys and despite the fact that they happen to agree with me on this post, I cannot intelligently speculate on the behalf of gay men across the world. So, if you're a lady and you're curious about your bloke, read on. Gay guys, let me know if I'm right.

When a guy says he wants space, that means he really wants space. He doesn't want you to clinch you feminine fists and bear down. He doesn't want you to apply your womanly guiles and make him stay. He doesn't need a daily phone call or a bunch of mascara-smearing tears. Those women who have applied any of the above, let me guess how it turned out.

The point is, guys often do need space. In any given situation we need time to figure out the ethical response, the masculine response, the enlightened-sensitive-guy response and the yes-I'm-in-a-relationship-but-I'm-not-whipped response. All of these play on and contrast with our sense of what we think we should do versus what our friends think we should do. And yes, even in our late-20s and early-30s, our friends still inform our decisions.

Guys need space. We need it to buy time for us to figure out women. We need it to determine if we still want to be with you. We need it to calm down and avoid blowing up or screaming cruel, hurtful, things we don't mean at you. Space means space. It doesn't mean phone calls and texts 20 minutes after the I-need-space talk. It means, I still love you but I need to be anywhere else on the planet other than with you right now.

At some point in time, someone coined the "If you really love something, set it free..." phrase. Whoever that was, they were a genius. Guys don't like being stifled. We don't appreciate coming off as whipped. Somewhere in our cromagnon sensibilities, we still want to feel like we're in control. We don't need to actually control things, we just need to feel as though we're near the top of the pecking order.

So seriously, women out there, back off. Give your guy a little space. We need to always feel like we determine our own destiny -- even if we don't. If you think I'm wrong, test it. Start dictating what your fella eats, when he comes home, when he sleeps and where he goes. See how long that lasts.

Guys are simple. We are infatuated with the idea of self-determination. We want to be in control of our own destiny. Somewhere deep inside, those guys who are married or on the way, realize that they're not in control, but they would love it if you'd play along.

If you disagree, I'd love to hear it. You know where to find me.

Hey job hoarders, meet me halfway...

Jobs suck. That's why they're called jobs. If they were fun, maybe we'd call them candylands or amusement parks, as in, "Oh honey, today was wonderful. I can't wait to go back to my amusement park on Monday." Such is my wishful thinking.

Worse than working, though, is job hunting. I'm supposed to be doing that today. I'm not. Clearly. Unless writing about job hunting is some cosmic form of job hunting in a parallel universe. I doubt it.

Everyone always uses the old 'cosmic parallel universe' explanation when they say something ridiculous. Frankly, it doesn't really make sense.

It's not hunting for a job that is bothersome. In fact, it is encouraging to know that so many companies are hiring in this economy.

What kills me is how unwilling said companies are to contact people they have not chosen. If you've filled the position, fine. If I'm not qualified, cool. If you don't think someone with my particular name or eye color would be a good fit in your organization, understood and accepted. Just tell me that.

What these companies fail to realize or consider is that it takes a helluva long time to apply online -- especially when the website they're using requires you to attach your resume and then enter all of the information manually.

I'm not asking to be mollycoddled. I don't need someone holding my hand during the application process. I'd prefer to do it myself. But stop hoarding all the jobs. Job hoarders.

Just do me a favor though. Create a computer-generated email once you fill a position. Once applicants apply, you've got their contact details -- usually collated into a spreadsheet format. Send a message. Hold up your end of the bargain.

I'll take care of my side. I'll jump through all your little e-hurdles. I'll manually fill in all your fields even after you have my resume. But meet me halfway. Stop job hoarding.

Simple complexity. The what and the why...

Simple complexity is about relationships; the relationships in which we function everyday. Friends; colleagues; partners (both business and romantic); and self.

All are simple. We all know them. We all have them. We all need them. Yet, all are equally complex.

This entry -- and the ones that follow -- are my theories, ruminations and speculations on these relationships. Perhaps those of the blogosphere will relate to my experiences. Perhaps not.

This blog is neither an advice column nor a politically-correct, touchy-feely slumber party of emotions.

This is simply the ravings, rantings reflections and reasonings of a meat-and-potatoes man who is equal parts simplicity and complexity.