I used to be attracted to a certain type of man -- masculine and confident, with facial hair, a hairy chest, and a little bit of a rough side. Unfortunately, that type of man was not attracted to me. This perplexed me, as I was attractive, grounded, and an all around nice guy. I went to the bars where specimens of this type of man hung out, but I never got noticed, never got approached. Then someone told me, "To get what you want, you have to become what you want." This intrigued me, and being young enough to not have a real sense of who I was, I took this advice to heart. I changed my look from innocent college boy, to a more masculine, adult, sexy man. I changed my wardrobe. I changed my behavior. I changed the way I interacted with others when I visited the places where this type of man frequented. I had become a new man. The change was apparently more than I had realized, as a then recent ex questioned, "Wow, I was not your type at all, was I?"
The plan worked. I found myself having one night stands, dates, friendships and relationships with this type of man. I had become the man that I wanted, and this was what I attracted.
Time passed and I settled into a more relaxed version of the man I had become. I ended up in a long-term relationship with a man that embodied some of the characteristics that I had become used to, but ,in essence, was quite different, more "mainstream." I remained on this mainstream side of the fence for twelve years. When the relationship ended last year, I found myself in the unique situation of not having any real "type" that I was attracted to. I found that I was attracted to many different types, shapes, and looks of man. Recently, however, I have found myself looking at a particular type of man and saying to myself, "Wow..." Apparently I do have a type after all. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, this type seems to be the one I had become all those years ago. And surprisingly -- or not so surprisingly -- that type of man is eluding me once again...
There is the thought that I could once again become what I became years ago. There are still traces of that man -- the masculinity and confidence, though the facial hair has disappeared. My dress has segued into a more sophisticated style, as I opt to shop at Banana Republic these days. However, it would be easy to move back into that old person I used to be -- a slight change in dress, attitude, venue, a few more days of stubble. After losing my identity during the twelve years of my last relationship, I am prime to become someone else while I am in the process of discovering who I truly am. So the question seems to be, do I once again become what I became in order to get what I want..?
I am now at an age where I view the world differently. My priorities have changed. My ideals and dreams, desires and needs are different than they were when I was younger. Even now, as I am trying to discover who I am as a person, I am more confident in who I am and what I want to be than when I was younger. I can see the value of being a whole person, devoid of semblance to anyone else but myself.
My main track of thinking now is, "Why should I change who I am to become something that I am not to attract a man?" Do I want to be in a relationship with someone who is not attracted to me as I am now? If I need to become someone else to be with the type of man I want, is that type of man really for me? If I compromise myself to be happy, am I really happy?
The decision seems obvious. But I find myself in the same predicament I found myself in all those years ago -- the type of man I am really attracted to, the type I want to be with, doesn't know I exist. I smile at him...I speak to him...I try to converse with him...I flirt with him...but nothing. So, where does that leave me? How do I get this type of man's attention without changing who I am? Do I relegate myself to another type and accept that that my desired type is not for me...?
I subscribe to the belief that everything happens for a reason. Because of this belief, I realize that the universe has its plan for me. It has lined up my next partner, and has chosen when and where we will meet. But waiting for the universe to work its magic can be a bitch. Sometimes I want to give it a nudge...
Perhaps I can give it a little nudge. Maybe there's a minor solution, one that doesn't require me to drastically alter myself. Maybe I could adjust my dress in subtle ways that are still keeping true to my own style. Instead of Sketchers, maybe I could wear boots. Always wanted a pair, maybe now's the time to buy. Maybe I could start going to a few of the bars that I've wanted to try anyway, bars where these men hang out. Maybe I can reach out through my network of friends to have them introduce me to men who are "my type."
So, maybe I can make this happen, while still remaining myself. Maybe I can make it happen by revealing deeper shades of me. I may even find that as I am discovering who I am as a person, that who I am embodies many of the qualities I admire and desire in others. I may not need to change anything. Those things may have been a part of me all the time. They just needed to be rediscovered.
So, I will continue my journey of self-discovery. I will discover what elements of myself, my look, my personality are truly who I am. When I find me, perhaps I won't need to look for my type. Maybe then he will find me...
*******************************************
The music that completes today's look is "Only When I Lose Myself" by Depeche Mode.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Confluence
con-flu-ence: /ˈkɒnfluəns/ [kon-floo-uhns] -noun
1. a flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the like: the confluence of
the Missouri and Mississippi rivers.
2. their place of junction: St. Louis is at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi
rivers.
3. a body of water formed by the flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the
like.
4. a coming together of people or things; concourse.
5. a crowd or throng; assemblage.
There is a small town at the very southern tip of Illinois, the confluence of the dark, muddy Mississippi and the pure, clear Ohio rivers. The town is called Cairo (pronounced Kay-row).
Cairo was once a thriving town, founded in 1837 as a perfect stop along the shipping routes of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers. It housed a U.S Customs House, one of only seven still in existence. During the Civil War, Cairo was a strategically important supply base and training center for the Union army. For several months General Ulysses S. Grant even had headquarters here. The town is surrounded by the most elaborate levee system in the United States. There is even a Congressional order that this town will never flood -- if flooding seems imminent, levees in towns south of Cairo must be blown, flooding those towns, rather than having Cairo be destroyed. Cairo seemed destined for prosperity.
But in the 1960's, the fate of the town took a swift turn. Cairo had a growing black population, though 100% of it's businesses were white owned. After the passing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964, the majority of white business owners refused to serve blacks. Those businesses that did follow the law and served blacks found their businesses quickly failing, as white customers refused to frequent them. In 1969, amid violent race riots and the boycotting of many white owned businesses by local blacks, white business owners closed their doors and moved out of Cairo, choosing to relocate rather than serve blacks. One by one, homes and businesses were abandoned, left open, as-is, to age and decay.
Today, Cairo is a ghost town. Where the population was once twenty-three thousand strong, it now hovers at a sad twenty-five hundred. Driving through the town is surreal, like being on the set of a war movie, or sci-fi film where the townsfolk have mysteriously disappeared -- "The Town That Time Forgot." On Millionaire's Row, the ruins of beautiful Victorian mansions lay dormant, crumbling, trees the new inhabitants of their stately rooms. Entire neighborhoods of turn-of-the-century bungalows are mere shells of their original glory. Cairo's main street, about a mile long, once lined with bustling department stores, beauty shops, diners, and clothes emporiums is now deserted. Some of the structures are still in tact, though their facades and innards have crushed and crumbled. Most of the buildings have succumbed to age and neglect, having simply given up and died. One such building has toppled into the street, but rather than clean it up, the town has, instead, decided to just block the street. The town has sat dormant for the past forty years.
Today, Cairo's population is 63% black. The average salary is 16,220.00 per year, with 33.5% of residents living under the poverty level.
It is ironic to me that Cairo is known as the Confluence of America, when it's own history seems to be the antithesis of the definition of confluence. Here is a city that was built on the idea of merging, melding and growth. Yet it's history shows segregation, separation, and decay. Even the rivers seem to tell the past: the muddy, dark Mississippi -- blacks -- and the pure, clear Ohio -- whites -- merge, but the Mississippi never mixes or flows into the waters of the Ohio. Massive levees protect a town that, for all intents and purposes, no longer exists. A Congressional order preserves a way of life that has disappeared.
Ride through Cairo and you will find a town that is ripe for revitalization. Homes can be purchased for a fraction of the standard cost. Businesses still stand, ready to be re-discovered. This is the stereotypical small town America. The people are some of the nicest you will find. They are personable, and perkier than the setting would suggest. They are proud of their home, despite it's history. I received a tour of the town by a member of Cairo's City Council. He drove me around, giving me insights into the town's once illustrious past. We visited the town library, an enormous, gorgeous architectural specimen, with a spectacular history of it's own. We visited the Customs House, previously a Federal Courthouse, now the town's museum. An elderly gentleman giddily took me through the myriad of displays that told the story of this town. His eyes gleamed as he told stories of not only Cairo's history, but of his remembrance of better times.
I was grateful for the chance to experience the way of life that is Cairo. I was glad to be able to experience some of the town's history, rather than leave with the thought that this town was sad and forgotten. I was delighted by it's citizens and actually look forward to returning.
Cairo makes you appreciate your own city. It makes you understand how far we as a nation have come, yet how far we have to go with accepting each other and our differences.
Will Cairo ever prosper again? Will Cairo ever be able to save itself? One can only hope.
1. a flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the like: the confluence of
the Missouri and Mississippi rivers.
2. their place of junction: St. Louis is at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi
rivers.
3. a body of water formed by the flowing together of two or more streams, rivers, or the
like.
4. a coming together of people or things; concourse.
5. a crowd or throng; assemblage.
There is a small town at the very southern tip of Illinois, the confluence of the dark, muddy Mississippi and the pure, clear Ohio rivers. The town is called Cairo (pronounced Kay-row).
Cairo was once a thriving town, founded in 1837 as a perfect stop along the shipping routes of the Mississippi and Ohio rivers. It housed a U.S Customs House, one of only seven still in existence. During the Civil War, Cairo was a strategically important supply base and training center for the Union army. For several months General Ulysses S. Grant even had headquarters here. The town is surrounded by the most elaborate levee system in the United States. There is even a Congressional order that this town will never flood -- if flooding seems imminent, levees in towns south of Cairo must be blown, flooding those towns, rather than having Cairo be destroyed. Cairo seemed destined for prosperity.
But in the 1960's, the fate of the town took a swift turn. Cairo had a growing black population, though 100% of it's businesses were white owned. After the passing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964, the majority of white business owners refused to serve blacks. Those businesses that did follow the law and served blacks found their businesses quickly failing, as white customers refused to frequent them. In 1969, amid violent race riots and the boycotting of many white owned businesses by local blacks, white business owners closed their doors and moved out of Cairo, choosing to relocate rather than serve blacks. One by one, homes and businesses were abandoned, left open, as-is, to age and decay.
Today, Cairo is a ghost town. Where the population was once twenty-three thousand strong, it now hovers at a sad twenty-five hundred. Driving through the town is surreal, like being on the set of a war movie, or sci-fi film where the townsfolk have mysteriously disappeared -- "The Town That Time Forgot." On Millionaire's Row, the ruins of beautiful Victorian mansions lay dormant, crumbling, trees the new inhabitants of their stately rooms. Entire neighborhoods of turn-of-the-century bungalows are mere shells of their original glory. Cairo's main street, about a mile long, once lined with bustling department stores, beauty shops, diners, and clothes emporiums is now deserted. Some of the structures are still in tact, though their facades and innards have crushed and crumbled. Most of the buildings have succumbed to age and neglect, having simply given up and died. One such building has toppled into the street, but rather than clean it up, the town has, instead, decided to just block the street. The town has sat dormant for the past forty years.
Today, Cairo's population is 63% black. The average salary is 16,220.00 per year, with 33.5% of residents living under the poverty level.
It is ironic to me that Cairo is known as the Confluence of America, when it's own history seems to be the antithesis of the definition of confluence. Here is a city that was built on the idea of merging, melding and growth. Yet it's history shows segregation, separation, and decay. Even the rivers seem to tell the past: the muddy, dark Mississippi -- blacks -- and the pure, clear Ohio -- whites -- merge, but the Mississippi never mixes or flows into the waters of the Ohio. Massive levees protect a town that, for all intents and purposes, no longer exists. A Congressional order preserves a way of life that has disappeared.
Ride through Cairo and you will find a town that is ripe for revitalization. Homes can be purchased for a fraction of the standard cost. Businesses still stand, ready to be re-discovered. This is the stereotypical small town America. The people are some of the nicest you will find. They are personable, and perkier than the setting would suggest. They are proud of their home, despite it's history. I received a tour of the town by a member of Cairo's City Council. He drove me around, giving me insights into the town's once illustrious past. We visited the town library, an enormous, gorgeous architectural specimen, with a spectacular history of it's own. We visited the Customs House, previously a Federal Courthouse, now the town's museum. An elderly gentleman giddily took me through the myriad of displays that told the story of this town. His eyes gleamed as he told stories of not only Cairo's history, but of his remembrance of better times.
I was grateful for the chance to experience the way of life that is Cairo. I was glad to be able to experience some of the town's history, rather than leave with the thought that this town was sad and forgotten. I was delighted by it's citizens and actually look forward to returning.
Cairo makes you appreciate your own city. It makes you understand how far we as a nation have come, yet how far we have to go with accepting each other and our differences.
Will Cairo ever prosper again? Will Cairo ever be able to save itself? One can only hope.
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