an extremely patient mentor (seriously, thank you for putting up with my never-ending-social-media-web-related questions). someone i trust with all of my heart. and seriously, one of the most reliable sources for anything marketing/media related.
he's a charming individual, a gifted writer and is pretty kick-ass at everything he does.
I’ll be honest. Being a guy is tough. Being a gentleman is even tougher.
The fact that I have two very distinct chromosomes means that throughout my life I will be known by many girls (roommates, sisters, and mothers) as “the jerk” or “the heart-breaker.” I can try my best to be sensitive, kind, and compassionate... but sometimes it just doesn’t work out, and suddenly I’m branded.
Over the years, I’ve learned that the “jerk” thing just comes with the penis. You just learn to live with it.
My chromosomes got me stuck with the job title of The Pursuer, The Provider, and The Protector.
Because I’m a guy, I’m in constant competition with other guys... even when there aren’t women around. We live in a world of alpha males and douche bags who are always trying to size each other up - you know - assert their dominance. And when you don’t play the game, it’s assumed by most that you’re submitting.
The peacocking is so overrated... and yet I live in a world of booty calls, and one-night-stands where the plague of the Douche Bag runs rampant. I spend my weekends sifting through an ocean of trite, empty-headed, shallow 20-somethings who want nothing but a free drink, or a night of self-indulgence with minimal attachment or expectations...
It gets frustrating, because that’s not what I’m looking for... yet often times it seems like that’s all that’s offered.
I’m searching for a girl... my problem is, I don’t know who exactly she is.
I do know that she exists. She’s just elusive like the Sasquatch or Bigfoot.Maybe that’s not the best comparison... but the point is that I, and most guys like me, have a secret...
In the spirit of honesty, I’m going to open up the kimono and let you in on this little secret.you may never hear a guy admit again, so pay close attention.
We’re not as tough as we make ourselves up to be.
We like to be in love.
As a matter of fact, we love it.
And, sometimes, just like girls, we get our hearts broken.
We feel alone, and hurt. We just don’t like to talk about it. At all.
We don’t get the chance to curl up in our PJs with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream, and watch a self-indulgent chick flick where everything works out in the end.
We don’t get to call our moms and go get mani-pedis, as we talk over a mountain of french fries and extra large Diet Cokes.
We don’t even get to cry.
Standard protocol is to “suck it up.”
Be a man!
In worst-case-scenarios, a broken heart calls for a Guys Night full of mind-numbing sessions of Halo, while chugging Mountain Dew and eating cheap $5 pizza.
The only real conversation on nights like this (other than the profanities that only Halo can inspire) revolves around you friends smack-talking the girl you held so dear to your heart, and encouraging you to do the same.
Deep inside, what we really want (and when I say “we,” I mean “I.” I can’t be alone in this.) is that simple, storybook kind of love.
You know the kind I’m talking about.
It’s the love where I can’t sleep through the night, because I keep waking yourself up to make sure she’s still there and that I weren’t really dreaming... because it feels like a dream to have her there next to me.
It’s the kind of love that has me running out the door after work just to get home and smother her in kisses, and present her that bouquet of wildflowers that I hand-picked on the side of the freeway because they reminded me of her.
I’m trying to find the girl who can talk to me about books that we read together, and not who got cut from The Bachelor this week.
I’m desperate for the girl who pushes me to pursue my dreams... and a girl who has dreams of her own.
I yearn for the day that I come home from work to discover her in one of my baggy t-shirts, and a pair of old, tattered jeans with paint on her exhausted face and hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.
She explains to me that she woke up that morning and thought the living room just needed a change.
I want to spend my weekends waking up early to embark on scavenger hunts at farmers markets, garage sales, and music stores... watching her hunt for the perfect little treasure that will complete or inspire her next big project.
I want to open her doors, hold her hand, travel the world, and run to the store late at night to buy her tampons.
I want to watch romantic comedies, and have her realize at the end that I’m her prince charming, or her knight in shining armor. And together, we’ve got it better than any fairy tale.
I want to dance in the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning, and kiss her flat on the mouth after telling her I’m sorry for proving her wrong. Just kidding... she’ll never be wrong.
I want to be in love. You know... that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.
And I don’t want to be afraid to tell her... because it’s true.
I love her.
And I always will.
And that’s the honest truth.
check out more of nate's words here. and visit his boss music blog here. (seriously, go to nate for music. he knows his stuff.)