I cry at movies. I cry at ideas. I cry at commercials where there are parents and droopy plants and determined horses in them. And my first reaction is always to look over at my man and see if he’s crying too. Usually, he is not (unless we are watching a Pixar joint). But I polled some dude friends, nudged social-media lurkers and dug around the Internet to find a sort of consensus about what cinematic formula makes a man tear up. Well, the answer seems to be war, sports, cartoons and the ties that bind – or destroy – a father and son. Though these attributes seem very gender-normed, I’ll take it! Because, no matter what the cause, a man who can feel and isn’t ashamed to feel is a blessed thing. So put on these films and prepare to share the tissues. (And beware of the following spoilers.)
The first man I ever fell in love with was eight years older than me. He was on probation for stealing a video game, and his fingertips smelled like cigarettes and shellfish, having spent most evenings washing dishes at a seafood restaurant. At one point, he kept going to work even though his boss had stopped paying him. “Why don’t you start looking for a new job?” I asked.
“Cuz it’s fun just chillin’ with the boys, smoking cigarettes in the back,” he told me.
Jeff wouldn’t find another job for nine months, mostly because his unemployment allowed him to sit in front his PlayStation all afternoon. At age 26, he still lived with his dad, but couldn’t be bothered to sleep in the spare bedroom because all of his crap — a graveyard of sporting equipment he lost interest in and old surf tees — was piled so high, he couldn’t find the bed.
Instead, he slept on a makeshift bed-couch in the living room. It was here, with his father bumbling in to ask, “What’s going on?” that I lost my virginity. Keep reading »
I once had a boyfriend who woke me up nearly every morning with his boner.
He poked it into my back, then at my butt, again and again, again and again. At first, he did it half-jokingly, with a troublemaking grin and absurd thrusting motions. I swatted at him, told him to stop, squirmed away. He kept at it. The next day, when he didn’t get the hint, I rolled my eyes and let out several long Ughs. “Nice try, not happening,” I said.
He only got more frustrated. “Gawd, why do you have to be so boring!” He told me. “What’s wrong with you?” Keep reading »