Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Men and Immaturity
Ladies, get ready to applaud a statement that's utterly common sensical to you and a bit of a redundancy:

Men are immature.

Do I need to explain more? Probably. Will I? Of course!

On Sunday, I was at the Giants vs DBacks game and sitting a few seats from me was a middle-aged man who obviously LOVED his Giants baseball. Well, he loved the team, not so much the current brand of baseball he was watching throughout the game (lack of clutch hits, lack of run production, etc.). He sat there with his, I assume, Father's Day issued Giants Hawaiian shirt, his hat, sunglasses, and vociferous growl ready to exclaim the positive and negatives throughout the game as any fan would do.

He was enjoying his game and was an otherwise pleasant dude until he was getting a bit enhanced with the beer and maybe probed by the pitcher's duel (or battle of anemic offenses - not sure which one was more appropriate that day). It wasn't anything too bad. He was cordial with everyone around. He was nowhere nearly annoying, offensive, and needing-of-a-slaptastic-shut-your-damn-ignorant-mouths idiots that sat behind me at the A's home opener.

And, maybe I should remove the focus from him. He sparked reflection. His day of solitude on a beautiful Sunday afternoon - perfect for a day at the ballpark - and his random shouts, random grunts, random musings to himself, random utterances of "sweet" - all, again, in a sense of solitude like no one else was around but him and the teams playing the game. So, is that immature? Not so much. It's a middle aged dude hanging out a ballpark. Big F'n deal, right?

Well, a few innings into the game, two middle aged ladies walked down to the front of our section, camped out in the front row, and watched the game. They were dressed younger than, I assume, my mom had worn as a middle-aged woman: black tank-tops with sequin-encrusted SF logos, jeans, flip flops, manicures, pedicures, nice earrings, and I think bracelets. And, again, it wasn't so much all that was worn, but how they carried themselves. Eventually, one of them stood up in the middle of the inning while on her cell phone trying to make sure someone, I think on the Field Level - 3rd Base side, saw them waving. One also had a pretty good tan going. I'm not sure if it was natural or tan-bedded/sprayed. Big F'n deal, right?

Well, I just wonder what most of us would think - would judge - when we see those types of folks. On one end, I hear someone who could easily be a father of one of the youth I work with sounding more like a high school kid in his responses to the game. On the other, women, mothers, who seemed to be at the game more to be seen and to have a party than to hang out with their children or families.

Yes, two very judgmental descriptions. But really, what would you think?

Age is a cultural construct. Age, in our world, is fluid. But really, who, of those two archetypes, is looked down upon more? The man who loves his team so much to be caught up into a game that he cusses and reacts like he was seeing his first ballgame ever? The women who were trying to have a fun Sunday afternoon with her "girl" and basically leaving their interactions with their children at a minimum?

*****

Those experiences made me think of other interactions with men that I may have had or have seen - like seeing how my uncles interact with each other, how I am with the fellas, how grown men are expected to react to various stimuli in the world (let's say a baseball game, a boxing match, a dirty joke, a naked woman, a ridiculous sale on a gadget that we totally don't need).

Now, I know this is also very gender-biased - not all men are into sports, into naked women, into tech stuff - but a lot of us are at some higher level of geekiness.

I think there's a double standard. We're allowed to act like fools within realms of sports fanhood, physicality, and other items. Women are expected to be excited about the same - but feverishly invested is far less allowed. Is this too much generalizing? Probably.

But, there is a double standard.

Then, the other night, I finally watched the South Park episode, "Eat, Pray, Queef". And basically, the premise was that when men farted it was funny to the men. When women queefed, the same men found it ridiculously obscene and gross.

Stan's dad summed it up: "It stopped being funny the second air came out of her vagina!"

And I thought it was fitting (and really ridiculously funny) since I hadn't watched this episode until after my reflective moment at the game.

***

Where does this put me at my level of maturity in life? I'm pretty confident that I'm immature in most matters that matter - too amped up for sports, I love the double meaning, I chuckle at any possible "that's what she said" moment, Rated R movies are still solid gold to me, I still try to march to my own beatbox. I get to work. Do my work. Do some parts of it rather well. Get shit done. Go home. Watch TV. Watch sports. Write on a webpage. Hang out with a really cool girl. Not read. Not have a 403B. Not have to be home at any specific moment. Not be much of anything but a 30-year-old that says with almost full sincerity that he was 29-that-went-on-to-13.

But I'm not a scrub. I handle my business when needed. I just try to avoid business at all cost. And no, I'm not talking about work, only.

I'm a man. I'm immature. And for the most part, it really doesn't matter.

And I'm not sure if that freedom or if that's pathetic.

Ulam cooked @ 4:37 PM

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