High-minded title, isn't it? Sounds like I'm going to construct an epic essay on how Classical Greek Philosophy relates to men in the 20th/21st century, huh?

Well, it's mostly just a title. Rather than an essay on Classical Philosophy, this is more a collection of thoughts I've had for a long time, but recent events have just started bringing them into focus. I'm not going to say what these events are... those who know me likely already know (or at least part of it), and those that don't don't really need to know. Suffice it to say that what follows has been a major part of my life for twenty-two years, four months, and 20 days, and I think getting it out in the open will help a bit... a necessary catharsis.

What this page is really about, I suppose, is platonic friendships, and my somewhat love-hate relationship with them. I have a lot of female friends, and definitely more female friends than male friends. Why this is, I'm not exactly sure, but it's happened many times in my life, and will likely continue to do so. I find that, as I come to know a woman, I find myself loving her. There is something unique about each of my friends, and the long talks that so often lead to this friendship helps me in learning more about them. More often than not, she has a boyfriend, which I don't mind... I learned a long time ago I can't be everything to anybody, so being what I can is usually enough for me. I'm just happy to spend time with her, and to let her know that she can trust me.

Why can she trust me, I hear some of my hypothetical audience ask. After all, I am a male, and that's bound to cause some conflicts of interest. She can trust me because of my two rules, rules that I work every day at maintaining. The first rule is the most complex, since it covers so many things. Basically, though, it says that I am available, day or night, for my friends, no matter what I'm doing, if they really need me. I might question whether they really need me, especially if I'm busy with something else, but once they do, I'm doing everything I can for them. I have yet to have anyone abuse this rule, and I find it to be a fairly easy one to maintain.

The second rule, however, is where I get my title from. The second rule is much more difficult to live up to, because love so often gets mixed up with other things inside me that maintaining this rule gets difficult. The rule is, quite simply, "The relationship is as platonic as she wants it to be." There are nights I've cursed this rule in the corridors of my mind... nights when I know alcohol or fatigue or loneliness have made her vulnerable, and I could make my move... but I never do. I cannot violate that trust, no matter how painful it is, because that trust is what the friendships are based on. And these friendships, as painful as they can be, mean the world to me.

And, because I live by these rules, they trust me. To some, I'm a teddy bear, a fact which they take ruthless advantage of. To others, I'm a brother, or an intellectual peer, or simply someone who's willing to lend a hand when they need help. Most of them tease me, in a friendly way, knowing I don't mean it when I call all women evil. They know I don't take it personally when they tell me they hate men, because they say it while they're with me and some bastard has hurt them. They trust me and, each in her own way, I love them.

Which brings up the problem of platonic friendships. Love is a powerful thing, in my world, so powerful it tends to drag related concepts into it's orbit, including lust, like, and a desire for companionship. There have been five women I would have married if they'd said yes, and I'd give up everything but my Gods for them. My dreams of becoming a professor would shrivel in front of my want to provide for her. I'd set aside my stories, sell my gaming books, and even change the music I listen to for them, if they made it a condition of our being together.

But none would say yes. Some keep our friendship on a rigorously platonic level. For others, our friendship has deepened and broadened... never to the point where we were more than friends, but definitely pushing boundaries that most friends keep in place. None would say yes, and because I love them still, I cannot dispute that decision, no matter how painful it is for me.

So, I'm left in a sort of platonic limbo. Because I love them, I want to hear about the joys of their life... about the goals they've met, the luck they've had, and the men they're seeing. But, because I love them, every time they meet someone, I lose a piece of me. Never a big piece, but enough that I know it's gone. And yet I keep the smile in my voice and on my face, and try to keep it in my eyes, because I love them and don't want them to know how much this part of their joy hurts me.

I guess they're going to know, now, though. This isn't exactly a subtle essay, leaving out only details of incidents, and I imagine I'll get an e-mail or two from my friends, asking if they're part of this, and if I want them to stop telling me the things they think will hurt. I'll tell them no, they're not part of this. I'll say of course I still want them to pass along the little tidbits of their life and love, and it will be the truth. Because, in spite of the pain, having them as friends makes it worthwhile... even the pain is nothing, compared to that.

February 7th

Why is it that I always feel like shit for wanting to be with a woman, especially a friend? Have I just been so deeply ingrained with ultra-feminist ideas that just rob me of any personal wants? now, I cana ccept that some friendships are meant to be platonic... but, dammit, I want one that ISN'T platonic for once in my life. I want to have a relationship, not just a friendship or a screw of mutual conveinence, but a relationship, where I don't have to come up with both sides of the dialgoue. Is that too much to ask?

February 16th

I think the worst part about having a variety of female friends, and no girlfriend, is the sense of rejection. It's like the entirety of the female gender has determined you as a "non-male". You're ok to talk to, you're ok to cry to, you're even ok to hang out with, sometimes... but it seems like they expect you to be a fucking eunuch! They expect you to hold them when they need it, but never get attracted to the vulnerable person they show. They expect you to be a rock for them... I feel a constant obligation to never crumble, never show a weakness or the emotional weariness I feel, because that would mean that they couldn't depend on me... it might imply that I have things I need, and won't always be their safe place. So, I can't let myself betray a friendship like that... I can't step out of the role of their rock with crumbling beneath the weight of my own loneliness, and I can't assuage my loneliness when I constantly have to let them go to someone else.

No matter what they tell you, you can't talk about other women... no woman wants to hear about how great another woman is. They can talk to you about other men, though, because you're the rock. You ever have to talk to a woman you love about how great a lover her boyfriend is? You sit there and grind your teeth in frustration, wanting to be their friend, wanting to help them with every particle of your being... except for one, vocal little electron screaming in rage against the dying of the light and the dark, lonely nights. You remain the rock, even when you don't want to, by divorcing your emotions from it. You just hold them and listen to them, and hope to the gods they'll hear the "I love you" behind all the times you said "As you wish". And then they go, and you're alone again. Even though they say they love you, and you want to believe them... you wonder why the nights seem so long, and your only dreams are nightmares of failing those you love, but cannot touch.

Fire and Ice, but I'm tired. My body's not, but my soul is. I sit up, staring at the ceiling, letting the silence overwhelm me. There's no delicate snore of someone I love... no steady breathing as she sleeps. That's because the ones I love sleep next to other men, in their dreams if not in reality. And I feel like an old teddy bear. I'm soaked in the tears of a thousand broken hearts, and held tight when there is no one around... but returned to my lonely shelf amidst the storybooks when someone new is in their dreams, or someone else is held tight in their arms. They can put me away because I'll always be where they left me... because I'm as powerless to betray a friend as a teddy bear is to walk out the door.

February 17th

On a slightly lighter note, here is my tongue-in-cheek explanation of "Why Women are Evil"

You see, every X Chromosome carries on it the "Evil" trait (that's a technical term, by the way). The Y chromosome, however, carries on it the "Anti-Evil" trait. Since women have two X chromosomes, they are all doubly evil. Men, however, with the XY combination, have Evil and Anti-Evil in close proximity. Since the double-helix formation of DNA keeps these traits from touching, there is no grand explosion upon the conception of a man, but each trait warps reality around it. Where the two fields (Evil and Anti-Evil) meet, there is energy, which explains why men are so energetic and get so much done in the world. It also explains why they are in constant conflict with women... possessing both Evil and Anti-Evil, they are in balance, while women are doubly evil.

March 27th

I actually thought of this a while ago, but you probably know about my computer problems, so...

I really need to amend the wording of my second rule. It's not so much that "The relationship is as platonic as she wants it to be", but rather "It's as non-Platonic as she'll let it be." It's a subtle difference, I suppose, but it's an important intellectual distinction to make.

April 6th

Tonight, I talked with someone who didn't understand how I could be alone, even though I have friends. I do have friends, and I know this, yet often I'm alone, regardless. I try to figure it out myself, sometimes, and I think I've got a handle on it.

Yes, I have friends... but each of my friends has their own life, and many have their own S.O.'s... and so, when everyone else splits off for time with their S.O.'s, I'm left alone again... and the pain is more acute than simply being on your own. When you're simply on your own, there's a certain comfort in the solitude, in knowing that you have time to yourself. When you're alone because everyone has paired off but you, because everyone else is with someone else... then it's painful, because the feeling of rejection just rises in you. I keep asking myself "Why me? Why not him, or him, or him... why am I the one alone?" And only silence answers back, because silence is the only one there to give me answers.

I'm going to close with some lines from Thin Lizzie's "Romeo and the Lonely Girl", a song that has spoken to me since I first heard it... it's fragments of two different verses, but I think you'll see where my feelings are.

Romeo and the lonely girl
They seemed to hit it off
Till Romeo told the Lonely Girl
"I must take my leave my love"
It was these few words I overheard
I thought I would move in
But before I could the lonely girl
Had fallen in love again

For all of his charms
in someone else's arms
Lonely Girl safely lay
The train came in
It had to leave again
And Romeo pulled away

April 14th

I got stood up tonight. No, to those who are hopeful for my entry into a somewhat adult social life, I didn't have a date... I was merely going to take a friend to a party. Sure, she's beautiful, possibly one of the most physically attractive women I've ever met, but I have no delusions of being more than a friend to her (fantasies, yes, but not delusions). The reason I was driving, though, was because she was looking forward to getting quite drunk... something for which I cannot blame her. I know she's been having a tough time recently, and needs a release.

However, it's still being stood up . I've waited around for about 4 hours... long after I knew she wasn't coming... because I cannot concieve of leaving when I said I'd be here. Some of you out there in computer land will understand... a few of you have taken advantage of it, either calling late, or stopping by at 3 o'clock in the morning, drunk off your ass and just wanting someone you knew wasn't going to hurt you. I know I'm that man... I'm proud to be that man. But, sometimes, being that man is a painful. I have to swallow my own desires to be that man... my hands can't roam when you're crying on my shoulder, and I can't talk dirty to you when you just need someone to vent to. I sometimes have to sacrifice things I'd rather be doing... sleep, homework, or just good, old-fashioned, heavy drinking... to be that man.

Sometimes, I wonder if the women I love realize that I do... I'm not talking about the lust aspect. I'm enough of an amateur that me being in lust with someone is likely evident to anyone with half an eye and one functioning brain cell... but I do wonder if they realize that I love them. That, when I say "I am your friend", it can mean nothing to you... you have to do nothing if I am your friend. What it does, however, is create an obligation within me to do what I can to help you. It's sometimes lead to me being over-protective... no need to rehash the scenarios that have resulted from that... but it also means that I'm here for you.

Bah, I'm rambling. It's true enough, but I'm even worse than drunk and maudlin... I'm sober and maudlin, meaning I'm less likely to break down and cry and leave you in peace.

April 22nd

You know, I bet if you asked every guy you know, and managed to get an honest answer, most of them would hate being called "sweet". Personally, I have a love-hate relationship with the term. On the one hand, being called "sweet" means that she knows I'm trying... that I'm doing what I do because I care. On the other hand, sweet is pretty much short-hand for "I like you, but not in that way," which, as every guy knows, is just a painful thing for the ego to hear. It doesn't matter if you had designs on her body, hearing that phrase is just something that says "Eh, you're nice, but you don't have the ripped physique, fast car, and twelve million dollars I'm looking for in a guy."

September 24th

Been a while since I updated this page, but I did recently have a thought that deserved sharing. First of all, though, expect this particular page to be updated very infrequently. Since mid-August, I've been keeping a separate, off-line journal of most of my thoughts and rants. These are things I don't need to share with the world, and it's likely most of my comments on women, men, and relationships will wind up where no one but me and eventual prosecutor :-) will see them. So updates will be rarer, but hopefully more than just me whining like a... professional athelete now making only 5 million a year to play a kids game.

But, on to the serious thought. Recently, I was talking with a platonic friend of mine about depression and mood swings. I'm bipolar, and my usual cycle means I'll get severely depressed for about 3 days every month. I commented to her that she was lucky... as a woman, if she got bitchy for a bit, people just wrote it off as her being on the rag. She didn't see it as being so lucky and, I quite frankly didn't understand why. Eventually, though, I figured it out:
If everyone just assumes that she's ragging, they're not going to bother to find out what the real problem is. If they just assume it's one of those freaky swings in chemicals that makes women so interesting, they won't know that she's depressed and crabby because she's having real problems. Even as a manic-depressive, people always ask me what's wrong when I'm psycho... more often than not, it's actually nothing but a swing in blood chemistry. But how many times have I written off the legitimate depression of a friend, simply because she's a woman?

It's not something I like to think about... but it's something I think I damn well better.

October 29th

Right now, I'm a mood for some extreme violence. My personal life has taken some dissappointing and emotionally painful turns over the last 4 hours, and its times like this I am again glad for my lack of a roommate... if such a person existed, he would likely be killed in a violent, bloody display, and his head mounted above the doorjamb. Not that it would be fair to do that... it wouldn't be this theorhetical person's fault that women seem to universially abhor me, but it does bring me to one of the rules which I've long fought to keep in my life: only be mad at the person who is making you angry.

Ain't that one a bitch? It's a hard one to live with, too, since it means you don't get to fly off the handle and beat the crap out of someone who's annoying you when you're really pissed off about something else. It means no going out and picking fights with people when you're mad because someone you're interested in has a new boyfriend, or another's boyfriend is telling you to stop being her friend. The urge to commit massive, gratutious, violence is almost painful... my neck muscles are so tense that it's giving me a headache... but the rule prevents it. I'm beginning to understand why a friend of mine was looking for a firing range... I sorta want to shoot something.

And yes, I know I'm whining like a little bitch.

November 15th, 2000

Ok, that was surreal.

I spent some time talking to a female friend's boyfriend. For a while, we were talking in incredibly formal terms... we were about half a step from thee's and thou's. It was simply surreal to be talking like that, because I'm certainly not a formal person, and I get the feeling he isn't, either. I guess you had to be there, 'cause now we're arguing religion.

However, my social life is continuing to suck. I've recently made the decision to stop keeping things bottled up; I've grown tired of women I care for moving from boyfriend to boyfriend without giving me a glance, because I've been too damn shy to say anything. Great as this conviction may seem, its a bitch and a half to actually play out, especially since I seem to be a catalyst for women finding their true loves (I kid you not... in the past two years, as soon as I resume or begin any type of relationship with a woman, she's engaged or very close to it within a month or so.) Hopefully, even if it doesn't work, it will at least give me less reason to bitch (or, at least, a more directed and valid one).