I AM HALF MAN

I am introducing this blogger because he has been part of my world since I started blogging over two years ago.  His blog is all about him so it would be impossible to follow him and not feel like you know everything about what makes him tick.  He is a father to some amazing girls and a very loving and considerate husband.  We know these things not because he writes about them but because it comes through in the stories he tells whether he knows it or not.

Arthur will have us believe he is only half a man but he is more of a man than most of the men I know.  He does have a very male sense of humor as you will see in this post, but when it comes to being serious he has proven his love of the female gender in some not so comedic ways.  Not only does he say some of the most loving and respectful things about his family but he has defended me on the few occasions when my “feminine” ways have been attacked online.

I think this post compliments the idea I presented on Tuesday, we are all feminine and masculine, beautifully.  Please welcome Arthur Browne from Pouring My Art Out (PMAO).

 

HastyWords

 


 

I’m not half the man I used to be… but then again, I never was.

The thing is (and there is always a ‘thing’ with me) I consider myself to be half man. I don’t mean I am half a man. I am all man. I am 6 feet 4 inches tall and have size fifteen feet. I have done a lot of traveling, and spent time in some pretty tough places in this world. But I like to think that I am half woman, too.

Maybe I should try to explain myself.
I am very in touch with my feminine side. I am an artist and poet and musician. I write tender love ballads. I sing and play the guitar [and ladies, you really should date a guitar player at least once in your life – they have magic fingers]. Maybe saying that I am half woman is overstating the case, but I truly hope it isn’t. Because my feminine side is what makes me better than men who refuse to admit that they even have a feminine side.
Don’t get me wrong. I have male friends who I love. But there is something about men that makes them… how can I say this politely… annoying. I don’t have the ‘organized sports gene’ for one thing. I couldn’t care less which team of overpaid, muscle-bound meat heads beat which other team of male mammoths. And cars… who cares? You know what I call those big, jacked-up pickup trucks guys love to drive? I call them: ‘sorry-about-the-size-of-your-penis-mobiles’. Ladies, if you drive one of those, I apologize, and I should probably mention that the word ‘penis’ might show up again in this post… a bunch of times.
The truth is, I have always preferred the company of women. Women talk about real things. They show emotions. They are interested in stuff. They aren’t so constrained by training… seriously, guys, why do we teach young boys that having emotions is wrong? I can see how it might have made sense when we were caveman hunter gatherers. It might have freaked the kids out if daddy burst into tears when his hunting trip didn’t pan out. But maybe it is time to rethink that whole idea now.

And we are making progress. Men aren’t as bad as they used to be. We are learning… slowly. We are evolving. But there are a few things I think we still need to work on. There is nothing I find more annoying about men than the way they sometimes talk about women when none of them are around. It makes me ashamed to call myself a man… which might explain the title and beginning of this post… How about a little respect for our lovers, our partners, our friends? And as long as we are on the subject of respect, can we just stop the whole rape thing? Rape is never okay. What part of “no means no” is too complicated for you to understand? Even murderers and gangsters hate rapists… as they will find out when they go to prison (and I hope they do… for a long time). If you can’t sweet talk your way in, you are knocking on the wrong door.

It is complicated to be a good man in modern society. We are supposed to be manly… but not too manly. We are expected to be tough and tender at the same time. And ladies, you don’t make it any easier when so many of you are attracted to the ‘bad boys’. I happen to be lucky in that I am all these things… and more. And the world does need men. It just needs more good ones and fewer bad ones.

I am no scientist, but have a theory about all this. (Okay – I am just making this up as I go along, so I haven’t had time to think this through yet… but let’s give it a shot). It isn’t our penises that get us into trouble… it is those stupid, dangly things that hang around underneath them that cause the problems. There is a reason that ‘nuts’ is slang not only for testicles but also for being insane. Because our nuts drive us nuts. They produce testosterone… and that is what makes us aggressive and accounts for so much misery and violence in the world. It makes us compete for everything, and usually not in a good way. I don’t have an answer to this problem – I am merely pointing it out.

And now, just to mix things up a little, and because I am worried that I might have offended one of my favorite body parts, here is a little poem I wrote… just now… to my penis. (Ladies, consider this payback for that whole ‘vagina monologues’ thing.)

Okay, here we go…

 

A poem for my penis:

Though you might look like a mushroom
With big, fat, hairy feet
And you really aren’t anything
But a little tube of meat
I’m sorry I caught you in my zipper
In a most unfortunate way
When I tried going commando
You know, way back in the day
You did make high school difficult
I couldn’t concentrate
You were never big on homework
Just all the girls we could date
And when it came to romance, well
You just got so excited
But I’m proud of the fact that you never went
Any place you weren’t invited
Yes, you dragged me on adventures
You were always full of spunk
But you never took advantage
Of a girl who was drunk
Though you may not be impressive
In either length or girth
You did manage to help create
Two of the most awesome people on this earth…

Okay, I feel bad for ending that poem by mentioning my two daughters, but that really is the best thing my penis ever did… so… uh… yeah.

Well, I’m sorry about all this, guys. I felt that I had to pick a side in the battle of the sexes… and I wanted to pick the side that was going to come out on top… so to speak. I have faith in you all. I think we are going to keep growing and improving and learning. Listen to your feminine side. It is much smarter than the other half.

Let me just finish up by saying thank you to the ladies of the Sister Wives project. I am honored to be the semi-official male representative… (and court jester)… of this esteemed blog. I know, you didn’t hold an actual meeting and vote me in, but at least a few of you seemed to humor my notion that I could hold these titles, and I am considering that to be good enough. Yes, I am now calling myself a sister husband… or a brother wife… or something along those lines. Because I love all the women on this planet. In fact, whenever there is an election of any kind, I will always vote for a woman who is on the ballot, as long as she is representing my party, because I truly feel that women tend to take a more emotionally-nuanced viewpoint of things. And they tend to want the world to continue, because they often gave birth, and they want there to be a place for their kids to live after all that pain they went through delivering them. And because women just have more heart.

In conclusion, I would just like to say one more thing:
We aren’t man or woman first… we are… human.

 

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Visit Pouring My Art Out to learn more about Arthur Browne.

“Bio? I don’t got to show you no stinkin’ bio… my whole blog is a bio… my about page says it all… and I have crack squirrels in my head…”

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