Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … August 6th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3025)

Dear Man: People are making tons of money by promoting the gender wars–books, seminars, movies and television programs accumulate a huge haul of cash by continuing to foster the irreconcilable differences between men and women.

 

Dear Woman: I suppose that’s true, but what do you plan on doing about it?

 

Dear Man: I’m just explaining that as long as there’s money to be made, there won’t be a willingness to come to the truth of the matter.

 

Dear Woman: And what is the truth?

 

Dear Man: The truth is, we will continue to think that women are the weaker sex and that they are irrational, until we sit down and have a great dialogue and risk losing this dishonest money in favor of seminars and shows that illustrate the two genders working together.

 

Dear Woman: That’s not gonna happen.

 

Dear Man: I don’t know whether it’s gonna work in the end, but we could make a beginning. Let’s start with the fact that you are taught that I am irrational, and I am taught that because you feel that way, you are irrelevant.

 

Dear Woman: Interesting. So what you’re saying is, if you find me irrelevant, I more than likely will naturally conclude that you’re irrational for feeling that way.

 

Dear Man: And if you’re constantly hounding me about being irrational, I will find you irrelevant.

 

Dear Woman: It seems like there’s no solution.

 

Dear Man: Every solution begins with a door, and I think I know where to go in.

 

Dear Woman: I’m all ears.

 

Dear Man: The toilet seat.

 

Dear Woman: Oh, no. No way. That old battle has been fought to a bloody end.

 

Dear Man: That’s because we think it’s impossible to handle. Here’s the truth–a man lifts the toilet seat to piss because he doesn’t want to pee on the seat. That’s already considerate. To lift the toilet seat he has to reach down and bring it up. At the end of his business, he reaches over to flush the pot. At that point his hand is mere inches away from tapping the seat and letting it fall back down.

 

Dear Woman: I understand that. But it doesn’t happen. So if you keep complaining about it, you’re spitting in the wind.

 

Dear Man: It doesn’t happen because we fail to realize that lifting the toilet seat in the first place is a consideration. It requires some effort. It actually takes less effort to knock it back down than it does to lift it.

 

Dear Woman: It may make sense to you, but just mentioning the problem puts men on edge–defensive–and makes women look like self-righteous complainers.

 

Dear Man: Are you telling me that if you were at boot camp and the drill sergeant got in your face and ordered you to put down the toilet seat, you would be unable to learn it?

 

Dear Woman: No. I would do it because I was threatened.

 

Dear Man: So why aren’t you threatened by appearing to be calloused, uncaring and unwilling to change?

 

Dear Woman: I suppose because it’s my way, as a man, of saying that this particular thing will be done my way. Is that what you want to hear?

 

Dear Man: Is it the truth?

 

Dear Woman: The truth is, I don’t think I can remember it every time. So I don’t want to try.

 

Dear Man: You wouldn’t have to remember it every time. If I saw you do it occasionally, it would open my heart–to realize when I finish the toilet I could lift the lid for you. Nobody’s going to die by lifting or dropping a toilet seat. But if we would just show one another that we’re aware, even half the time, it would go miles on the journey to understanding.

 

Dear Woman: It’s not easy.

 

Dear Man: But it is simple. It can be done. And even if it’s done infrequently, the fact that I cross your mind is meaningful to me, and the fact that you think about a woman being in your life when it comes to the bathroom, is powerful for you. We have to get along in every room of the house–not just the bedroom.

 

Dear Woman: So you want me to do this?

 

Dear Man: Do you want to try?

 

Dear Woman: No. But you make so much damn sense that I’d rather try than argue about it.

 

Dear Man: Isn’t that a step?

 

Dear Woman: Yeah. I suppose so. But it feels like a step into a big pile of poop.

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … March 19th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2878)

Dear Woman: I read your note four times. The first two times, I did so to understand what you were saying to me and to let it sink in. But I read it two more times just because I was afraid there was going to be a quiz.

For you see, as much as you hate being treated as a weakling, I despise the fact that you think I’m dumb.

I understand you hear it from everywhere: “Women are smarter than men.”

I’m not dumb. It bothers me.

So I suppose when I get defensive, I start looking for ways to overpower you to compensate for my alleged stupidity.

Then I watch “Law and Order: SVU” and it tells me that women are constantly raped and killed. Word has it from “Fifty Shades of Grey” that you ladies enjoy being dominated. And then the religious system out there proclaims that I’m supposed to be the “king of my household.”

I’m so damn confused.

So here’s what I want you to know: I’m just like you. It’s about my heart, not my penis.

Don’t you understand? I’m a man, but I’m just as emotional as the next human. Hell, I cry when my football team loses the championship. Is that any different from weeping over lost kittens?

But I just can’t tolerate being treated as dumb, so I strike out at you by acting like you’re the weaker sex.

So you feel treated as “weaker” and I feel treated as “dumber.”

Let me tell you this: I can love you but I can’t change the world. I’m not Superman, and if that’s what you need, then you probably should become Supergirl.

I want to be able to tell you where I’m weak without you thinking I’m less.

I want to have an idea without it being dismissed as ridiculous.

And then it will be easier for me to stop treating you like you’re an underling.

The reason we can’t negotiate a deal is that our egos get in the way. I keep waiting for you to treat me like I’m smart, and you want me to treat you like you’re strong. And all the time, society tells us that we’re “weak” and “dumb.”

The only thing I can promise at this stage is to inform you that I’m not going to listen to what our culture tells me I should be.

I don’t think you’re weak.

Please don’t think I’m dumb.

Yours,

Man

 

 

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … March 12th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2871)

Dear Man: I hope you don’t mind me sending along my ideas and feelings in the form of this note. I just didn’t want to sit down and have a face-to-face discussion, get interrupted and lose my train of thought.

Even though I see us making gradual progress to understand one another, I feel there is one large hurdle that we just can’t seem to get over.

You think I’m weak.

It’s not your fault. You were taught to do it. All the television shows portray women as having great intelligence, but falling apart under pressure.

You and I were born practically equal.

For the first ten years of our lives, our bodies were almost the same. I ran as fast as you, and you cried like a girl when you fell down and skinned your knee. Then the natural order–Mother Nature–came along and changed things to make sure that our species would be able to have a mother and a father to push the plan ahead.

I got estrogen, which gave me breasts, a period and hormones of sensitivity. You got testosterone, which gave you balls and a single-mindedness toward single-handedly procreating the species.

I no longer could run as fast as you could.

I couldn’t lift as much weight.

A few days every month, I found myself nearly out of commission due to my menstrual cycle.

At that point, you looked upon me as weaker.

It infuriated me. I could still think, feel and react with as much smarts as you, but because of my lesser muscle mass and need to mother children, I felt that I lost respect in your eyes.

I hate that.

It seems ridiculous to me that we view one another based upon the conditions of our genetic responsibility instead of realizing that we are both human beings and share almost everything in common.

I am tired of being the weakling–but I’m also tired of apologizing for having an emotional side which you may or may not understand.

So you try to be sensitive to my lack. That can make you consider me the weaker sex, which can end up with me being nothing more than “the little woman.”

Do you understand? I can’t be just “the little woman” and stay sane. I have to be more than a birthing chamber that ovulates three or four days a month.

I yearn for the time when we were children and had a childlike appreciation for each other. There were no “girl baseball teams” and “boy baseball teams.” We played all the games together.

I don’t want to be your weakling.

I don’t want to struggle to get respect because I’m seen as inferior. I don’t want to be viewed as bitchy and pushy.

Do you understand what I’m saying? Can you fathom how horrible you would feel if you were deemed second-rate? Why would it feel any different for me?

I thank you for reading this.

I’m not trying to blame you–I’m just curious if you can comprehend my heart.

Can we escape the futility of separating the sexes into Mommy and Daddy?

You don’t need to respond, but if you do, be candid and not afraid to share you heart.

I was thinking of you.

Woman

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Dear Man/Dear Woman: A Noteworthy Conversation … December 19th, 2015

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(2787)

 

Dear Man,

I’m tired of being afraid.

I hate fear. It is so uncontrollably fearful.

I’m afraid of being weak and I’m also afraid of not being weak enough to fit in.

Or maybe it’s that I’m tired. Yes, I’m tired of being the weaker sex. How can you call someone the weaker anything and contend it’s not an insult? In what sense is weakness ever a positive? It is one thing and one thing only: weak.

It enables you to relegate me to positions for easy manipulation. I despise it. And then if manipulation doesn’t work, you can become abusive. And since I’m weak, I’m supposed to fall under the spell of your aggression.

I’m supposed to believe that if I have an opinion, it’s a complaint. If I have a complaint, it’s a bitch.

If I have a bitch, it’s an insult to your manhood. And if I insult your manhood, I’m a lousy woman.

How can you define being a woman by how well men think you act your role?

 

Dear Woman:

Don’t you think I’m afraid, too? I’m afraid of failing to be strong.

Who in the hell would I be if I’m not strong? I would risk being a pussy, right? Which simultaneously, by the way, insults you because it attributes weakness to being female.

So I’m supposed to figure out on my own what it means to be strong. Forgive me for assuming that would entail getting rid of anything that resembles weakness–feelings, tears, sensitivity, attention span…should I go on?

So to be a man, in a way I’m told to be a jerk to a woman. And from what you’re telling me, I further complicate your life by treating you as weak so I will appear stronger.

 

Dear Man,

You don’t understand. I don’t want you to work this out for me. I don’t want you to adapt to my fear and my fatigue.

I want to find a way to discover why we share so much in common, yet are taught that we’re so different.

 

Dear Woman:

Aren’t we different? Isn’t that supposed to be the allure of our attraction?

 

Dear Man:

I hope not, because quite honestly, it’s driving me nuts.

The things you think make you strong actually repel me, and then I resent the fact that I’m supposed to be attracted to what I find repulsive.

 

Dear Woman:

Repulsive, huh? Am I supposed to hear that without thinking you’re a bitch?

 

Dear Man:

Am I supposed to feel it without saying it?

 

 

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