“When your line is crossed, I get off…”

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Let’s look at a word, shall we?

 

 

ob•jec•tive (əb-jĕkˈtĭv)

adj. Of or having to do with a material object.

adj. Having actual existence or reality.

adj. Uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices: an objective critic. 

 

 

Now, men hear a ton of screeching regarding the “objectification of women”.

 

What makes this particular complaint so absolutely fucking interminable (in every sense of the word, and I choose my words carefully) is that it’s so g☼ddamn loaded.

 

See, “objectified” has a few interpretations.

 

Some of which women actually like. 

 

Needless to say, this confuses the ever loving shit out of even the best and most attentive men.

 

 

 

How should I explain such a complicated problem?

 

Tough proposition.

 

 

 

Ok, have you ever played a video game or role playing game with a woman?

 

Have you noticed that her avatar/character has to be hot as Hell (extremely physically attractive, for those unfamiliar with the idiom)?

 

More than likely, you sat there thinking:

 

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

 

You should want better weapons/greater strength/faster reflexes/etc!”

 

 

I bet you did.

 

And I’d bet a lot on that.

 

Why would I take that bet?

 

Because you’re a man and – odds are – you don’t grasp a Truth I shared long ago:

 

Sex and violence are omnipresent in human art/literature because they are the respective genders’ paths to power.

 

Violence = men.

 

Sex = women.

 

Thus, sensible folks play to their strengths and that happens to be where strengths lie.

 

Even those that otherwise deny reality fall into this subconscious strategy.  

 

(It’s also why so many men and women fail in the sexual market, these days.

 

But that’s another story.)

 

 

 

This is one of the largest hurdles for [modern] men to leap:

 

That women want to be objectified (to a point) and coveted because of it.

 

 

 

To put it in terms men can understand:

 

A man wants to be judged on the quality of his production.

 

Such production should be able to be appreciated across the board by anyone that sees it.

 

Thus, filling him with pride as so many see merit/worth in it.

 

Women are, in fact, only marginally different.

 

They want the same perception of their potential to produce [healthy children].

 

 

 

In fact, even rape fantasies are really about female power.

 

Mad, you think me?

 

Poor fool.

 

See, rape is a taboo.

 

A sin.

 

Anathema.

 

But if a woman can inspire such lust, such desire, such obsession in a man that has a great deal to lose (a man of high value), to the point that he forgoes his religion/laws/scruples—

 

Then she has the real power between them.

 

[Note: This is also why rape remains a fantasy most women would not want realized, as 99.9999999% of rapists are low value.]

 

 

 

Remember the opening of this post:

 

Objective – Uninfluenced by emotions or personal prejudices

 

Not being objectively coveted means that desire is a favor to be done by unspoken request.

 

Rather than an order to be obeyed.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

“There are really no words strong enough…”

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Imagine you are a member of the King’s guard.

 

You’re a capable warrior. 

 

You have every right to be where you are in the hierarchy.

 

Yet, you are fully aware that there are plenty of other men in your unit that are just as good a soldier as yourself.

 

If not better.

 

 

 

However, late one night, you’re roused from your sleep by the King, himself.

 

He kicks the foot of your bed with powerful, unrelenting blows.

 

Until you awaken.

 

At which point, he states with the utmost gravity:

 

“You are the only one that can reclaim the Holy Grail.

 

No other has the qualifications to perform this urgent, all-consuming task.

 

I, and all I rule, are in dire need of you and you alone.”

 

 

 

How would you feel?

 

Very likely, you’d swell with pride.

 

You’d serve with eagerness and alacrity.

 

And you’d do what was asked of you, regardless of whatever suffering accompanied it.

 

 

Take a moment.

 

Close your eyes.

 

Really play that scenario in your mind and experience the flood of emotion that accompanies it.

 

 

 

Now realize:

 

That’s how a woman feels when the right man makes demands of her.

 

 

 

 

 

 Ω

“There ain’t no one to blame for how I am; it was me, alone, who chose…”

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I’ve had quite a few friends over the years.

 

Sure, much of it is due to the fact that, in person, I’m very charismatic.

 

But, Truth be told, nigh on every single one of them has confessed they ride with me because, as one of them articulated succinctly:

 

“I always know where I stand with you.”

 

 

 

Another man phrased the same sentiment thusly:

 

“I’ll never find my girlfriend in your bed or your knife in my back.

 

You’ll look me in the eye as you stab me, if you ever do.”

 

 

 

Even men who’ve never met me face to face get the same impression.

 

@beppo_venerdi said of me when closing his podcast:

 

“Ace is a real straight shooter.”

 

 

 

Women get the same sense, too, in their own way.

 

One woman stated:

 

“I love you because you’re genuine. 

 

Whether you’re grumpy or nice – it’s real.”

 

 

 

@aliceteller voiced a similar feeling:

 

“I much prefer an honest sinner to those who insist on rewriting all traditional morality to suit themselves.”

 

 

 

Her words struck a particular chord within me as a my Roman Catholic priest friend of many years once told me:

 

“I don’t know if I abhor the fact you sin knowingly or respect it.”

 

It is his statement which brings me to my point.

 

 

 

There will be times in life (many, in fact) when you will do wrong.

 

You’ll not only do such, but do it with full knowledge aforethought.

 

 

 

Now, I certainly will never condone – let alone encourage – sin, but I must say this:

 

If a man’s got to sin, then it’s best he sin boldly.

 

Don’t twist it by tortured reason.

 

Don’t leap around it with mental gymnastics.

 

Aim the gun; pull the trigger.

 

 

 

Men may excuse you for doing what needed doing.

 

Women may forgive you since you made the situation yours.

 

Thus, finding your way clear.

 

 

 

However, alone in the moonlight or just you and the bottle—

 

admit the Devil won this round.

 

And pray God gives you another chance at getting it right.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω

“Can you realize your dream’s alive? You can be the guide but…”

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To the few of you that follow my work extremely closely, my birthday passed recently.

 

I am – as of this moment – 43 years old.

 

To celebrate the event, a young woman took me out to dinner.

 

As we awaited our table, an elderly man before us in line turned to me affably, remarking:

 

“Don’t get old.”

 

I smiled broadly at his kind, if futile, advice, replying:

 

I didn’t see the box to check that option on my birth certificate.

 

He laughed (good naturedly) saying:

 

“You’re right; I didn’t, either.”

 

 

 

Now, when younger men call me old, I say exactly what I wrote in my book:

 

You’ll either live to be my age—

 

or you won’t.

 

There’s no other choice.

 

While there’s no shortage of Truth in my words, permit me to offer some advice that is not so impossible to follow.

 

 

 

On my bed, right now – as I type this, is the teddy bear that my (now deceased) mother laid in my crib when I returned with her from my delivery in the hospital.

 

That same threadbare, careworn, stuffed animal will likely buried (or cremated) with me.

 

Thus, I say to you:

 

Never, ever allow the world to reclaim your boyishness.

 

Childishness can, and should, one day fade, yes.

 

But, should boyishness go, death may as well be on its heels.

 

 

 

Childishness is immaturity, selfishness, short-term thinking, hedonism and disregard of reality.

 

Boyishness is curiosity, innocent boldness, awe at/humility before reality, wonder at nature, a heart ever prepared for adventure and a desire for companions on endeavors to seek such.

 

Even at my age, there are moments when I stand slack-jawed at the stars.

 

Stare in amazement at animals.

 

Get excited for simple pleasures.

 

Ask 100 questions in breathless anticipation.

 

And these very parts of myself I kindle, blowing upon them using whatever force remains within to enflame the embers – bringing them to renewed vigor.

 

[Yes, women – with their omnipresent pragmatism – find this simultaneously endearing and puzzling.]

 

 

 

Why do I do this?

 

Because, as I said:

 

Should the flame die—

 

I may as well be extinguished with it.

 

Plus, wise men know the universe tilts heavily in favor of darkness.

 

So bring it light.

 

 

 

 

 

Ω