The Hideousness of Men

I am reading a book right now that describes the intense, animalistic cruelty of men. Of course there are exceptions in the book, a few flickers of humanity in the cold landscape. It’s not just the book that got me thinking about the hideousness of man, and the power even that gives them. My boyfriend gave me another one of his “men are heartless animals” speeches.

Since the inception of our relationship, he has taken it upon himself to paint me a picture of what men are really like. He claims that it is because he resents the fact that their bad behavior has made his love life more complicated in the past. I finally asked him the question that has nagged me, as he spoke about the way men only want to use me. I asked him if he really thought that he was the only man who could care for me. If every other man just wanted a piece of ass, and saw me as nothing more. He snorted and told me he was sure some men would actually want to be with me, but they would want to fuck me first.

After three and a half years with this man, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. I will believe that he tells me these things, not to try to intimidate me, but to educate me. Why? I still really don’t know. It has been informative though. And I suppose it was the combination of reading vicious stories about the plight of my sisters in the middle east and my boyfriend’s speech that made me begin to think about the grotesque nature of man.

....

One of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever been was not the Caribbean, it was not Mexico, it was not Europe or the Rocky Mountains. The place that truly took my breath away, brought tears to my eyes at the sheer wonder of it all was Iraq.

The beauty of other places is so easy, so effortlessly giving. The beauty amidst desolation; the splendor of the sunsets that painted the rocky horizon deep shades of Orange and Red and Purple; the shock and delight to see lush green surrounding the rivers after coming over yet another dusty hill; these things were gifts and perhaps just due to the contrast and the unbending will of this hard place, I fell in love with it.

I began to think last night that perhaps the species of man is like that harsh unforgiving place. When a man does something out of character:tender, soft, kind, it takes our breath away. The idea that we are desired enough for this selfish creature to change his ways, to be our own, to be gentle, it is enough to make us fall in love. If they are good men, then it will remain beautiful. We will stay captivated by the wonder of the beauty in this naturally ugly thing, we will remain in love with this mysterious being, captivated by him. But when he changes, begins to morph into that which our love is not strong enough to keep him from becoming, when he begins to hurt us; it is the memory and the potential for beauty we once saw that will make us stay. We will stay and stay until he has beaten the love right out of us and we no longer see the sunsets in his eyes, when all we see is the ugliness.

The hideouness of man and the female eye to see beyond it, the intense beauty of a man unlike his barbaric peers, the false hope and the happy endings; these are the stories that live in the war-torn heart of a Woman.