The Cave

Contrary to the Plato-related blog those of you who paused too long in your contemplation of the title and in your philosophy education might have expected, this blog is about boys. That's right readers, you are reading a pink blog about relationships. Yes. I'm gagging, too. Stick with me and we can all brush our teeth after some group up-chuck therapy. We'll hold hands and skip later.
Recently I stayed up late talking with a close guy friend of mine. We've been a little bit of thick and thin together, and in a fit of late-night eloquent honesty, we discovered the gender gap. I was expressing my frustrations with getting another close guy friend to 'talk to me.' I told him how frustrating it was when a close friend goes completely noncommunicative for an extended period of time, and how maddening it is to have one's communication advances repeatedly, firmly, and indifferently denied. "It's the cave," my friend replied. Guys like to have their cave. That's where they go to think, to not think, to work things out, to observe life, etc. It is essentially their home base, default mode, and sanctuary.
My immediate reaction when someone I care about deeply and with whose happiness mine is in some small or large way tied starts retreating is to try to entice, beg, drag, or lure them back out into the open. My mind suggests all sorts of ways of doing this, from the friendly through the semi-plausible to the down right rediculous. I've even been tempted to play the damsel in emotional distress, just so they'll have to come rushing out of their cave to save me. Silly things like sitting outside their cave and saying a little too loudly, Fine, I'm sure glad no one's talking to me, because I don't want to talk to anyone! Unfortunately, petulant reverse psychology doesn't work on anyone.
Barring being able to drag my friend of his cave, my next instinct is to attempt to infiltrate it and take up residence on the inside. You want to sit alone? Great, I'll join you. You want to paint animals on the walls and reconnect with your primal manhood? Sweet! Sounds like fun, I'll grab the paint. Or, if I can't get inside or get them out, there's the report back to me demands. I'm fine if they go into their cave, as long as their back home for supper and tell me everything they did, thought, or felt while they were there. Reasonable, right?
*sigh* In conclusion, I can do anything but give someone space. Giving someone space is somehow completely backward, unnatural, and painful for me. Just when I feel like I'm losing someone is not the time I feel like wandering off to a different part of the mountain. That's when I want to be puppyguarding the cave, waiting eagerly for when they come out again, and calling frantically inside for them to come out soon. I'd hollow out whole mountains for my friend, but die before I let him stay in his cave. I'd rather take anger, melancholy, cynicism, irrational exuberance, or any other emotion rather than silence.
So, assuming my friend is right about boys, and assuming other girls have similiar tendencies to mine (risky assumptions, I know, but you've already read this far, are you really gonna give up now?), where does that leave the genders? The men are inside their caves, dealing with whatever they have to, and the women are wigging out on the outside. Faced with fears of losing them and being shut out forever, they are seriously distressed and upset, while the last thing men want to do is come out to that kind of emotional mess.
So there you have it, the gender gap. A wall of solid, natural, rock. A cave wall.

Ok reader, it's over now. Wipe your mouth, blow your nose, and remember: Optimism is brushing your teeth after the first time you throw up...

Is My Blog Pink??

Today I signed up for blogspot, mostly on a whim. More and more of my friends are using it, and I am mainly hoping that there'll be some cool feature that will tell me when my friends have updated their blogs. As much as I love checking multiple blogs daily so I stay up to date. I also got sick of signing my comments "anonymous." So I picked a name (anyone recognize the quote?) and started flipping through sample templates.

Since blogs seem to be virtual representations of one's personality, this is supposed to be a big decision. But I'm still in my pjs, and I'm still waking up, so who cares? I went with the template that I liked best on gut instinct. But, as I went to click Continue I realized that my choice would mean a pink blog. And I paused.

A pink blog? Am I ok with that? Will my readers think I have some sort of conservative-reactionary exaggerated feminity? For that matter, will I have any readers? And if I do, should I let the prospect of what my possible future readers might possibly think dictate my template choice? Of course, I can make the argument that this isn't really pink, it's more mauve, burgandy, wine, etc. And then of course, there are the personal considerations. Do I have some sort of reactionary exaggerated feminity because my instint went for the pink blog? There's a time when I would have headed straight for the black. Now I waffle between green and mauve. No question, I've gone soft. But don't worry imaginary readers, I'm not that soft. I can still out thrift store shop you.