Real Men: Part One

One of the reasons, I think, for why I have such great relationships with men is the wonderful men who were around me as I grew up. These are the men who showed me what men really are: hard but soft, strong but nurturing, confident but humble. I have been very blessed by the power of the universe to have had men like this in my life. It is because of them that I am so confident in my intelligence, my sense of fun, my ability to analyze, and my attractiveness. They've made it impossible for me to settle for just any man. And for that I am forever thankful. As a way of paying tribute to them, I am blogging a multi-part series about all the great men I've known and still know.

First up, the men who taught me what men ought to be. And what better way to start than with the best man ever born.

Daddy

I've discussed Daddy before. Daddy is the man to whom no man will ever be able to measure up. He's the reason that I never wanted to marry. He's the man who, after they made him, was so perfectly wrought that they broke the mold. I knew, from a very very early age, that he was one of a kind and I would never find anyone exactly like him. And so I settled it in my mind that, if I couldn't have one just like him, I didn't want any of them.

He was the hardest working person I've ever known. He worked a tough job in a tough industry, the steel industry. He worked in that seamless mill, walking miles and miles and miles every day, inspecting those long piles of pipe. He worked any one of three shifts 6 or 7 days a week in that mill for well over 40 years. He was injured by rolling pipe numerous times and saw several co-workers killed. He hated his job but he never complained and never called off because he felt that he had a mission in life: to do his best for his wife and children. He regretted his lackadaisical attitude after the war, when he started work in the mill because he was just having too much fun to go to college on the GIBill, that he could do it any time later. And then he married my mom and started having all those kids and...well, later never came. In fact, the money became so tight after three were born that he took on a second job: digging graves at his friend, Tom's, cemetary to make extra money. It, too, was backbreaking work that he did in his "spare" time for the next 30 years. And, again, he never complained. Never once.

Despite all that work, he was intimately involved in our lives. He proudly supported my mom's decision to go back to college when the youngest of us was finally in kindergarten and he was more proud of my mom's subsequent career in journalism than even she was. He never missed one of my swim meets (unless he was working second shift) or my older sister's gymnastic meets or my younger sister's cheerleading competitions or either of my brothers' basketball or baseball games. He'd watch every Steeler game with Patty and I, every Pirate game with DeeDee, and every Pitt game with my brother Bill. When MC went to Penn State, he became a Nittany Lion. When I went to Pitt, he gleefully veered back to Panther territory. He was especially happy to discover another history/politics buff in the family in me. We spent hours watching documentaries and movies, reading books, and having discussions about all of it. He checked out every guy each of us girls ever dated and never forbid us from any of them. He would act intimidating toward them, see how they handled it, and then (very subtly) point out to us their reactions. He never liked the guys who completely backed down from him. He liked a guy that was polite but confident. We Gray girls like our men strong as a consequence.

He showed all of us how a man loves a woman through his love for my mom. They were sexy and didn't mind letting us know that they were. I knew my parents had a good sex life before I even knew what that was. It was evident and it was in the air all the time. My dad was always touching my mom. A hand touching her elbow, a pat on the ass when they thought no one was looking, his hand on her leg under a restaurant table. He never left a room before kissing her. They almost became electric around each other and I often think now about how they must have struggled to keep it all under control. And, amazingly, that never wore off. No matter how they aged, no matter how depleted my mother became in the throes of cancer, he never looked at her or spoke of her but as the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Thanks to Daddy, I am a woman who knows football, politics, history, and war tactics. I can tell you about the development of the B-52, the Elizabethan age, and how to use a map. I can demonstrate how to shoot a gun and how to change the oil in your car. And I was told by the strongest and most manly of men every day that men are the weaker sex.

Daddy, I miss you every single day. Forever.

Up next: Mike, my godfather.

Two Things On My Mind

1. Bullies really are cowards underneath it all. I've actually always known that, but it just keeps getting confirmed. Bullies run in packs because they are terrified of standing up for themselves. They lack self-confidence and self-reliance. They also prefer to keep their bad behavior a secret. Because, knowing that their behavior is wrong, they hope to hide their flaws. They abhor direct confrontation because that is how weaknesses get uncovered. Guess that's why bullies have always had a problem with me. My honesty, my transparency, and my genuine affection for myself (including all my flaws and foibles) is just too much for them. I'm like an alien to them. But it's always worth a good laugh to see them slink away when I call them out. Seriously, it's fucking hilarious.
2. As I might have mentioned elsewhere, I spent last evening escaping from all the madness of the real world by pouring a nice glass of Clos du Bois Merlot, rolling a skinny one, and filling my tub with some hot water and Lush bubbles. I relaxed there for about an hour, listening to music (new Nine Inch Nails!!!!!!) and letting my thoughts bounce where they would. I mused a bit about the Bully Girlz and then thought back to how things never change. It's all so reminiscent of my high school days and how the "popular girls" (or, at least, they thought they were) always did the exact same thing. And how it was never the boys. Ever. In general, other women have never liked me. Especially when they run in packs. And forty years later, it's still true. Unfuckingbelievable. I suspected as a teenager and I'm quite confident now that it's all about jealousy. I'm not sure why anyone would be jealous of me, but I continue not to care, just as I did in high school.
3. Now, what I do care about are all those lovely boys. And men. And what bright spots they are in my life, all through my life. And I began thinking about all the wonderful males I've been lucky enough to have pass through my life. And, since I've been rather lax about blogging or writing, I've set myself a project. I plan to begin writing a multi-part series of the men in my life and their effect on me. I have at least three parts planned (and may come up with more as I go). For now, they include family/significant adult males, male friends of my early years, and lovers who have impacted the woman I am. Stay tuned. I hope to get the first one up in the next week or two.

Bitter Old Hag

I get the giggles every time I see that phrase. In fact, I had a hard time typing it because it made me laugh so hard. So I'm going to keep using it as much as possible in as many venues as possible just because it's so fucking hilarious. And just keep blogging about all the great things going on in my world these days.

• All the hard work is paying off for my team at work. Last year, we were up in acceptances by 26% over the previous year. So far, we are at about 21% over the same time last year. And most of that can be credited to Dan, Nicole, Debbie, our intern Laura, and myself. We've operated down by 2 staff members and still managed to better our yield. If we're all going to put in 60 hour weeks, then it's good to know that it's worth the effort.
• I've been on a massive cleaning jag and it feels good. I've spent at least 3 of the last 4 weekends on a cleaning project. I first scrubbed the kitchen floor by hand and washed all of the baseboards in the apartment. The next weekend, I got the steam carpet cleaner that Tom and I agreed to share custody of and cleaned the carpeting in the bedroom, hallway, and living room. I meant to do the entry and staircase the next weekend, but Easter intervened and I put it off. Last weekend, the weather had turned and it didn't seem smart to do the entry and stairs while the weather was so wet and muddy, so I scrubbed the entire bathroom from top to bottom. It looks like spring is finally on its way by this weekend and I hope to finish the carpeting. The next project is to wash the walls and then decide if I want to paint. Sometimes I enjoy this nesting behavior and I miss the things Tom and I would do around the house. I can't really remodel, but I can still have home projects and I had forgotten that. I think I'll get some potted plants for the deck this year. It's taken me a long time to get to the point where I feel good doing these previously joint projects. I'm glad.
• Speaking of Tom, it's possible that by the time I finish typing this post he will have made a major career move, one for which we had both planned for many years when we were together. And he couldn't wait to talk to me about it. It's good that we can still do that. In fact, he has indicated and I am sure that, in reality, *I am* the only person he can really discuss it with and get a sympathetic and enthusiastic ear. He interviewed a week ago, felt it was a rousingly successful interview (of which, knowing Tom as I do, I have no doubt), and expects to hear something within a week. I hope he gets it and expect he will. And I will take some pride in that. I worked harder promoting and planning with him his career than I did my own and now, hopefully, he will finally be in a place to really build something. It will be a huge step to move from secondary ed to post-secondary ed, from managing a classroom to managing an entire department, from the constraints and inertia of the secondary level to the ability to innovate and create. I'll be so happy for him if and when this actually comes to fruition. And I'll be able to, once again, see that the years of work pay off. Not for me, but for him. And I'll take satisfaction in my part of it and in the knowledge that he gives me my part of the credit for it.
• Long distance lovers are the best, I've decided. I never get sick of them being around all the time. I don't have to explain where I'm going, when I'm going, and who I'm going with to anyone. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. And they are so wonderful when they are here. As am I to them. Been making plans to see a few of these lovely men lately and my social life for the next several months is being planned. Tim will be in from Philly this weekend and one long weekend in May. Randy is coming in from Florida during June for a long weekend and again for a week in October for his niece's wedding. And Ron. Ah, Ron. He'll be here for a week in July while I'm on vacation. And again in August for a week when I have a four day weekend planned. And he'll be dropping in to check on his parents intermittently between the longer stays. I'm so glad that his campus in Florida has it's main campus here. It means I get regular fixes of him in addition to all the phone calls and emails. And I've decided I need regular fixes of him. He's different in demeanor and action from any other man with whom I've ever gotten involved. I'm intrigued by it and that makes him like catnip to me. You've gotta love a man who is like no one you've ever met. Well, if not love him, at least, make love with him. And he's quite the singular character in that sense as well. Gotta be careful around him. He's one scary dude. Because I've really never experienced what I experience whenever I hear his voice on the phone. I feel like someone is pouring warm honey all over my body. That's the only way I can describe it. I like it, but it's terrifying.
• I tried to come up with something bitter here. Really I did. Just to fit my square peg into the round hole all prepared for me. But I'm sorry to say, I got nuthin'.