What Is A Typical Male?

A female friend of mine was dismayed to find her that her female supervisor reacted negatively to her honest opinions about some workplace issues. Her supervisor acted as if she had been personally attacked by my friend, instead of listening to what she was saying and taking it as constructive criticism. My friend went on to say that she wished that in some ways, women would listen less emotionally, especially when it comes to work. My friend wondered if she should refrain from providing her opinions at all, so as not to have her supervisor take her remarks personally. She went on to say that she wished in some ways, women would think more like men when it comes to work.

My opinion was that my friend should continue to offer her opinions where she felt they would make a positive impact, as long as they were not personal remarks. I explained to my friend that I had spent years working predominately for/with women and had trained myself to think carefully before I speak due to their sensitivity. Even with all my efforts, I’ve still brought some of my female co-workers to tears and have more than once been accused of being “condescending”, so try as I might, it is mostly up to the listener to determine how something is meant. I also explained that I had a tendency to take things personally as well, even when they were meant to be taken constructively. My friend then said to me, “Well, you are not a typical male.”

Boy, has this stuck in my craw. (Now watch, my friend will be all apologetic about it, even though I just advised her to stick to her guns. Women, huh?) What is a “typical male?” Am I supposed to be a ruthless, uncaring co-worker who doesn’t care what other people think about what I say? Am I supposed to be some sports-minded oaf who lays about every Sunday wiping my Cheetos-stained hands all over my shirt? Should I be good at building things out of wood?

I got to thinking about the stereotypes we all walk around with and whether I identified with them either as a typical man, or even as a typical gay man. I came to the conclusion that I really can’t be labeled, but maybe I just don’t see the forest for the trees. I thought I’d throw out some examples and let you tell me if you think I am “typical” or not.

I hate shopping. I don’t understand why I would want to wander about touching and looking at things that I don’t need. If I need a pair of blue jeans, I go to a store and buy some. Then, I leave. Typical man you say? Maybe, maybe not.

I understand how to use color, pattern and arrangement. I’m not happy with a living room consisting of a Budweiser clock, a couple of beanbag chairs, and a shelf unit made out of cinder blocks and plywood. One of my friends said of my last home, “It looks like Pottery Barn threw up in here.” So, now I’m a typical gay man?

I hate musicals. I have no idea why these people suddenly break out into song for no apparent reason. When I watch one at home on DVD, I fast-forward through the songs to get on with the story. By the way, I also cannot stand Barbra Streisand or Liza Minnelli. I’d rather drive spikes into my ears than sit through one of their movies, at least without a fast-forward button. Hmmm. This person does not need these people. Just a regular guy reaction?

I also hate just about any movie with car chases or where lots of stuff blows up. I just sit there thinking, “Oh please, can we just get on with it?” Well, that’s not a guy thing – probably a gay thing, right?

I can’t stand watching sports. Someone will move something that will probably resemble some sort of ball. They will put this ball in a hole, over a line, or in some confined area of some sort. Someone will win, someone will lose, and when it is all over, who gives a damn? And what difference does it make if my team wins or your team wins? I’ve got better things to do with my time. As the bumper sticker says, “My area sports team is superior to your area sports team.” That about sums it up for me. Who cares? I still have to go to work on Monday, and in the meantime, there’s three hours of my life that I will never get back. Well, that’s just typical isn’t it?

Please don't talk to me about celebrities. I don't care about Britney, Miley, Paris or Nicole. I also don't care about Brat, Matt, Ben or Mario. I couldn't give two craps who married whom, who went where, who's fat, who's anorexic, who wore what, who's hot or who's not! Is that typical?

I despise small high-pitched dogs. And it especially makes my skin crawl to see men fawn all over these little rats. Show me a little Yorky-Bichon-Poodle-Pekingese and I’ll show you perfect dropkick. I like real dogs. I like dogs that men like. Well, that’s just a typical man talking, huh?

I can get whites their whitest, cook a lasagna from scratch, pick the perfect wine and arrange a centerpiece. I can also lay a tile floor, change my own oil, and I still think farts are funny. So what is a typical man? Am I a typical man or not? I hope not.