One of my recent personal deveopments since coming to UWI is that hI've begun to see themes everywhere. Literary themes pop up in real life, in small talk and apparently random behavior. Everything has a subtext now. Everything has a socio-political impact. Especially the proliferation of KFC and the lack of natural, unsweetened chocolate on store shelves. Normally I'd say I was losing it. I'm just reading too much into things. But then, I've been beaten over the head with the idea that if I see it, and I can prove it, then its there. If you perceive it, then it exists. I have yet to figure out where that leaves room for illusion, or possibly even delusion. For the time being, Im a little more concerned with actively addressing the things I've been seeing.
One of these themes is Manhood. Not adulthood, mind you. Not male homosapiens of reproductive age. No, I've been thinking about manhood and masculinity. Luckily there's a gender studies course on that next semester that I can take as an elective. In the meantime though, my mind is racing. I don't know if I can wait that long. Take, for instance, that thing that just happened in KFC. That was definitely a threat, right? Definitely a chest-beating, dick measuring contest, right? Oh, right. You weren't there. Let me break it down for you.
So we're in the food court by KFC. I'd just had a horrible day of splitting my attention in two different directions and producing mediocre work for both, so as punishment I decided to get a snack-pack. There I met Scott. Scott's a pretty cool guy. He's not a guy's guy by any measure. He's long and gangly, as if he liked puberty so much he just stuck with it into adolescence. This doesn't make him bad looking though. I'm sure some young lady who sincerely values a man with a sense of humor would gladly take strangely angled pictures with their foreheads touching so they can both put on facebook someday. Scott is in my Drama class, and my Intro to Prose class. Scott's also in the Intro to Poetry class which I won't be taking until next semester. Still, with all that reading and writing, Scott is never without a smile or a joke. In other words, Scott's my kind of people.
Scott tells me that he's waiting for Gabby, Chelsea, and Nick, who are all also lit majors and classmates of mine. Since arriving here they are the only Trinis that I don't have to actually try to have fun with in order to have fun with. Once again, these are my people. And so, as a matter of course, I decide to wait for the others to arrive. When they do, we start doing our strange combination of discussing academics along side what we'd call madarass back home. Both of which I enjoy thoroughly. Enter, then, The Fellow from North. Of course he's wearing his traditional Fellow from North garb, a zip up hoody, even though we're in the tropics and coming toward the end of the wet season. Of course he has the usual north baring. All they do on north is practice that baring. Lifting weights and practicing how to fix their jaws and look at people out of the corners of their eyes in the mirror. No, no. I'm already letting my personal attitude color this story. Lets stick to the facts.
Here are the facts: Fellow from north enters. Fellow from north sees me. I nod hello. He may have nodded, but I didn't see one. Fello from north sees Scott. Scott does not nod hello. Scott does not know the fellow from north. Fellow from North sees Gabby. Gabby smiles. Fellow from north walks around the table and sits awfully close to gabby. Fellow from north drapes a hand over her. Fellow from north proceeds to flirt openly. Fellow from north tickles Gabby. Gabby laughs. Gabby says 'Please don't do that' and proceeds to explain why. Mid-explanation, fellow from north tickles her again. Gabby Laughs. Gabby says stop. Fellow from north Tickles Gabby again, thereby initialling a mini wrestling match between the two. Scott looks at me as if to say 'Is this really happening?' I look at Scott as if to say 'Yes, this is definitely happening.' Fellow from north says 'Oh, hey fellas.' Fella from north walks away. We've all forgotten what we were talking about when the Fellow from North entered.
To return to my initial question: Was it just me or was that kind of fucked up? There are certain things that might color my perception of it, of course. Maybe I'm just not threatened by Scott, but am clearly threatened by The Man From North. Maybe the Man From North didn't have to do a single thing except be present in order for me to resent him somehow. Maybe if they did it to Chelsea I wouldn't mind, but because I've taken a bit of a shine to Gabby, I'm feeling territorial.
From my end the message is clear. The fellow sat down and basically said, "both of you men are not real men. Look at what I can do. I can force her to laugh. She says no, but because I'm doing it she likes it. See the way we're touching now? See the way whatever you boys were talking about no longer matters? Goodbye losers." Of course I'm left with the usual question of 'Did that really just happen or am I reading too much into it?" I'm also left with the realization that I would never do such a thing. There lies the path of Douchebags. And then, I think...Douchebags get laid. So maybe I should be more of a douchebag. Maybe my lack of douchebaggery represents a direct correlation to my limited number of sexual partners. I tell myself that its all a matter of quality over quantity. That if we count by number of instances rather than partners, then I'm right up there with my contemporaries; and that if we count by successful female orgasms, I'm way ahead of the crowd. A part of me doesn't buy that though. A part of me wants to have sex with everyone I want to have sex with. A part of me thinks that each beautiful memorable moment is perpetually overshadowed by the ones that didn't happen. A part of me wants to know what its like to be a douchebag, and in fact, wonders if that isn't actually the ideal.
And if that is masculinity, then what the fuck am I?
One of these themes is Manhood. Not adulthood, mind you. Not male homosapiens of reproductive age. No, I've been thinking about manhood and masculinity. Luckily there's a gender studies course on that next semester that I can take as an elective. In the meantime though, my mind is racing. I don't know if I can wait that long. Take, for instance, that thing that just happened in KFC. That was definitely a threat, right? Definitely a chest-beating, dick measuring contest, right? Oh, right. You weren't there. Let me break it down for you.
So we're in the food court by KFC. I'd just had a horrible day of splitting my attention in two different directions and producing mediocre work for both, so as punishment I decided to get a snack-pack. There I met Scott. Scott's a pretty cool guy. He's not a guy's guy by any measure. He's long and gangly, as if he liked puberty so much he just stuck with it into adolescence. This doesn't make him bad looking though. I'm sure some young lady who sincerely values a man with a sense of humor would gladly take strangely angled pictures with their foreheads touching so they can both put on facebook someday. Scott is in my Drama class, and my Intro to Prose class. Scott's also in the Intro to Poetry class which I won't be taking until next semester. Still, with all that reading and writing, Scott is never without a smile or a joke. In other words, Scott's my kind of people.
Scott tells me that he's waiting for Gabby, Chelsea, and Nick, who are all also lit majors and classmates of mine. Since arriving here they are the only Trinis that I don't have to actually try to have fun with in order to have fun with. Once again, these are my people. And so, as a matter of course, I decide to wait for the others to arrive. When they do, we start doing our strange combination of discussing academics along side what we'd call madarass back home. Both of which I enjoy thoroughly. Enter, then, The Fellow from North. Of course he's wearing his traditional Fellow from North garb, a zip up hoody, even though we're in the tropics and coming toward the end of the wet season. Of course he has the usual north baring. All they do on north is practice that baring. Lifting weights and practicing how to fix their jaws and look at people out of the corners of their eyes in the mirror. No, no. I'm already letting my personal attitude color this story. Lets stick to the facts.
Here are the facts: Fellow from north enters. Fellow from north sees me. I nod hello. He may have nodded, but I didn't see one. Fello from north sees Scott. Scott does not nod hello. Scott does not know the fellow from north. Fellow from North sees Gabby. Gabby smiles. Fellow from north walks around the table and sits awfully close to gabby. Fellow from north drapes a hand over her. Fellow from north proceeds to flirt openly. Fellow from north tickles Gabby. Gabby laughs. Gabby says 'Please don't do that' and proceeds to explain why. Mid-explanation, fellow from north tickles her again. Gabby Laughs. Gabby says stop. Fellow from north Tickles Gabby again, thereby initialling a mini wrestling match between the two. Scott looks at me as if to say 'Is this really happening?' I look at Scott as if to say 'Yes, this is definitely happening.' Fellow from north says 'Oh, hey fellas.' Fella from north walks away. We've all forgotten what we were talking about when the Fellow from North entered.
To return to my initial question: Was it just me or was that kind of fucked up? There are certain things that might color my perception of it, of course. Maybe I'm just not threatened by Scott, but am clearly threatened by The Man From North. Maybe the Man From North didn't have to do a single thing except be present in order for me to resent him somehow. Maybe if they did it to Chelsea I wouldn't mind, but because I've taken a bit of a shine to Gabby, I'm feeling territorial.
From my end the message is clear. The fellow sat down and basically said, "both of you men are not real men. Look at what I can do. I can force her to laugh. She says no, but because I'm doing it she likes it. See the way we're touching now? See the way whatever you boys were talking about no longer matters? Goodbye losers." Of course I'm left with the usual question of 'Did that really just happen or am I reading too much into it?" I'm also left with the realization that I would never do such a thing. There lies the path of Douchebags. And then, I think...Douchebags get laid. So maybe I should be more of a douchebag. Maybe my lack of douchebaggery represents a direct correlation to my limited number of sexual partners. I tell myself that its all a matter of quality over quantity. That if we count by number of instances rather than partners, then I'm right up there with my contemporaries; and that if we count by successful female orgasms, I'm way ahead of the crowd. A part of me doesn't buy that though. A part of me wants to have sex with everyone I want to have sex with. A part of me thinks that each beautiful memorable moment is perpetually overshadowed by the ones that didn't happen. A part of me wants to know what its like to be a douchebag, and in fact, wonders if that isn't actually the ideal.
And if that is masculinity, then what the fuck am I?
