love me tender

So, this is not about food, Turkey, or moving in.

I have been thinking a lot recently, in an amorphous way about men and women. Not huge archetypal images, no Mars, no Venus. But, can men be tender, and If I don't think so, what does that say about my views of men? Or how have I allowed myself to be taught? Images of dad, conflicting, raging, and at the same time one of the most sentimental man I knew.
As a species, I expect that the female is tougher. I would absolutely kill to preserve my child, and think every woman feels the same way. In nature documentaries, the arbiter of maternal instinct, no males of the pride surround the female giving birth. Nope, in our culture in America it was only the early sixties perhaps when men were allowed in the delivery room, and to hear some tell it, that was just dandy for them.
What is this resurgence of male tenderness? I want to believe it is true, and I want to believe that men are protectors, they do the tough stuff.
But sometimes, I think that it is all a culturally learned behavior, generations of chick flicks have taught men that a hand to a face, a gesture of simplicity in all its earnestness, will win the gal over. Can they be truly tender to their children, to their partner? Often I think not. I wonder why. Because I was not shown it, and actually I often would not let it in. I think really, this is my own issue, one of trust and being able to relinquish those walls which I have so carefully built around me for protection. And, I wonder what was learned behavior as a kid. However, this is not the place for Freud, Colette, or even the Kinsey report.
Nope, is is the post feminist-rule-of-guy review. I just spent some time with a huge variety of men, professional and personal. Gay, straight, lots of experience, and very little. Worldly, and more straight common sense than some of the twits I have worked with. And, I am beginning to challenge my carefully held beliefs. There is no question that men, as Dads, can care for their children and defend to the death. But what I am talking about here is just what constitutes tenderness in this culture in a way, in mine. Is it chocolate or fixing something? It is the willingness to really listen and attend, and be gentlemanly? This last effect is a diminishing capacity in our culture. My emphasis is on the Middle East and I have friends who rail about the isolation of women, the pedestal aspect of the veil, the seclusion and the harem. I am beginning to think that we sometimes have lost by chipping away not at a pedestal but at the virtues that do indeed make us different. I have had to do it so much alone, that last year when finally driven by so much heart-stopping stress, it was so evident to my family that they needed to come help all of us. We were at a Rubicon and needed to move forth. It wasn't the women at this time who stepped in, it was the men. And they helped but I had to be "guy like" to get through it. Afterwards, I was absolutely, flat out spent and exhausted and it has taken the better part of the year to get better. I still am learning to slow down, because inaction led to introspection. I wanted a hug, some tenderness. My Turkish friends are appalled that so many people live alone in America, especially women. My daughter "should have moved home". It is unacceptable that I live alone. "Who will find me if I fall down? " That is sometimes certainly the question, who will? I imagine myself alone, with no one to know, no one to help when a wrenching headache hits. Of course that isn't true, I have experienced it every day, but it is the awareness, and the recognition that has to come from me not the outside. Back to tenderness. Tenderness is the right soap, the holding of a hand for balance, and the chance to say "just sit, let me take care of you." I won't let you down. I realise that tenderness is not weak, it is strength and I have confused the two. I applaud women's rights. I would not live in a culture without them, and at the same time I think we as a culture are often diminished by this forceful need to do it on our own, to be strong, to be tough, to fix things ourselves. I love to cook for someone, to nourish them when I think they have had a rough time, and when I think we both would like some company. I also joke that I am post feminist, that a guy can do this, do that, are stronger, know more in some areas, and for God's sake know to hold my hand, to clasp my head when a kiss, and to shut me up. Forceful tenderness drops me to my knees. I have put my back out carrying things too heavy, wrenched my wrist in repairs, and cannot, cannot do it all. I am confronted by this daily, that doing it all myself is isolating, people want to help. And maybe Hollywood is right, men can be tender, they want to do the soft thing, the respectful chivalric code and value the woman. And maybe it is not only right, it is about time. Maybe girls, women, by valuing men, and allowing ourselves to BE valued, we allow the men gain their own sense of place in the universe, the tool box, the seat at the table, and the place in the bed. My gay men friends do not have this discussion, there is no "girl's role" boy's roll..there just is. I cannot speak to the women. But of my men friends who are gay, I trust them implicitly, would travel with them anywhere, and there is no charge to be or not be "girly." I can ask for help without a sense of repayment or reprisal. So what does that mean then? It means for me to let the defenses down, to come back to my picture of the woman supported and enfolded because it takes a duality to ascend. And while living alone keeps us in this culture apart, it need not divide us in half. Love me tender, love me true indeed, water wears down rocks and the desert winds soften any sandstone bluff. I need lots of things fixed around here that I need help on, and first I must fix my stubborn self to let tenderness in.