|Save a horse
||[Jun. 24th, 2005|05:47 pm]
Unlike most woman of today, I’m going to just come out and say it. I miss cowboys. Rough burly men, who didn’t speak much, chewed on a piece of straw and commonly used the word ma’am. I don’t necessarily men a strict cowboy, with a six shooter, chaps and a heavy tan (although I must admit that those features can be fashionable), I mean in the sense of a man’s man. The men I dreamed of as a little girl, the handsome prince with a broad sword (not a John Brown reference), the bad boy in a leather jacket, the dark suited business man, and the cowboy are a dying breed. |
Not that I am unsatisfied. In fact, I have been pleased with the modern-day male race in general. The “nice” guy, commonly characterized to have sensitivity, understanding and sophistication is in abundance. This generation has taught a tolerance and empathy to the sexes that had been misunderstood or hidden before. Most of it’s effects are wonderful. I’m also not trying to claim that chivalry and manners are gone, because I see many of cases of that as well. But when the word “man” is spoken, I’ve always found a subtle depth to it. A man doesn’t cry. A man takes care of his woman. A man works hard and doesn’t take any shit. Granted, an old fashioned outlook, but I don’t mean it in the sense that sends a woman to the kitchen. Being physically stronger then a woman bears no influence in this definition.
I’m just becoming tired of men that care whether their hair is gelled correctly or not. Guys who “have feelings too” or who can be considered “pussy-whipped”. This new metro-sexual rising. Their grandfather’s wouldn’t stand for that shit. I’ve also found that even our “tough” guys, are judged like 50 cent: by the amount of times they’ve been shot or whether or not they have Gucci fabric on their shoes. In another cultural sense, how many piercing one guy has over an other, how many times they’ve dyed their hair purple, or how big their biceps are. It’s just simply that, I feel, even though they retain the physical properties of a male, they perhaps should not be titled with “men”, and a word with less effect should be commissioned.
All in all, I miss cowboys. The men that open doors for their women and eye down every guy in the room. Men who don’t give in and say “Alright honey, we can watch Oprah, because I care about your feelings”. Men who can work up a sweat, but don’t bitch about it. Men who don’t shave their chests or shop at Hollister. Men who can make a girl’s knees weak without reciting poetry. It’s my animal instinct to think of the big alpha male. Yes, I’m a woman and will never be ashamed of wearing a dress, or crying at Titanic, but damn-it that doesn’t mean I want my man doing it.