Ponderings of a troubled, tormented soul...

I have been pondering the last few days. I tend to ponder quite frequently when I have free time, but lately I have been pondering a lot. No, I haven't been pondering deep meanings to life such as what makes the world go round, or how to solve world peace. Not about how we're all made of tiny cells, or that matter cannot be created or destroyed. No, the ponderings I have been pondering lately are those of a troubled, tormented soul-Profound, deep, and un-answerable ponderings. 

Why are men such pigs????

Yes, sometimes I sit in silence, trying with no avail, to answer my own question. Why do men think that just because they can pee standing up, that they are God's gift to woman-kind? Sometimes I take long, soul searching drives, rack my brain full of torment and anguish, as I puzzle myself to the point of craziness, continually asking myself this simple, but profound question.

Why do men think they are privileged enough to play with my heart and mind? Who made them so high and mighty that they feel like they can keep me up at night, stumped and stupified over thier childish and jerk-full actions?

Do men honestly think that blatantly staring at my butt or my boobs will win me over? Do they think that I will fall in love with them, thanks to the arrongant, hot headed attitude they "show off" in front of me? Am I supposed to be impressed when they act like they are the coolest thing since snow cones?

Let me tell you a story. Recently, I had the "privilege" to spend time with a young man. Yes, he was very attractive, yes I was excited like a school girl to get to hang out with him. That ended 15 minutes after meeting him. This guy was more engaged in talking with his buddy than with me. He must have thought I was going to be impressed that he had a friend, who happened to be the biggest idiot I'd ever met. He must have thought that I like when men let their friends say stupid rude things directed at me, all the while just laughing along with the bozo buddy. And he must have thought that I can't resist a guy who acts like he's 15 and a freshman in high school, when he's actually done with college. He must have thought he was indescribably charming when he had to disagree with just about everything I said (I guess I am a huge fool for liking Big Macs, Baconator Burgers, thinking midget colonies are awesome, being from Idaho, and for liking Norah Jones, Journey, and poked fun at all the goofy looking runners who run the streets like they're running from zombies.) I guess I'm not pretty enough, that when two girls in a car (who just happened to look like they were 16) are waiting at a red light next to us, he has to check them out and say "Oh hey..." I guess I'm not interesting enough that his cell phone has a more decent conversation to carry on, and most of the time I felt like I was talking to myself. I am sure he didn't hear a word I said. Whatever the reasons for his actions were, shame on me for not being more adoring and in awe that I was able to be graced by his presence.

That is not the only time a man has acted like the king of everything in my lifetime. I'm only 24, yet I could write a large, heavy novel on the indecencies of men. I've had men try to woo me, only to come to the realization when I was with them, that a "good time" was all they wanted. I didn't give them one obviously, since I'm too "tightly wound up" and "goody goody". Guys have stared at me like they stare at a medium rare steak drenched in A1 sauce. Married men have asked me out, then told their wives I pursued them. I didn't know they were married-when a guy acts and seems single, I assume they are single, especially when they tell me they are. Guys with girlfriends have asked me out, taken me out, and then come to find out, lied about it to everyone else-No one told me they had a girlfriend. I don't date, give my number to, or even seem interested in attached men. But  I end up looking like the bad, nasty girl. I may as well be a dirty, maneating, homewrecking stripper. Thats the way they make me feel. Guys have acted like I'll most definitely fall for them, all because "oh my gosh they are far better than anyone else could ever be and I'm so lucky to be with them because of their raging hotness!" Guys have put on this show of acting like they were far better than anything I had to say or liked to do. They think that just because they are good looking, nothing else matters, and that I'll forgive them for having no personality, all because they have practiced "the look" (you know, the smolder??). Do they really think I am that stupid??? I'm NOT one of 'those' girls. I require heaps of personality, smarts, wit, charm, sweetness, and dorkiness baby.

Where are the classic gentleman these days? All I'm asking for is someone who can talk about anything and everything for hours, who can crack a joke, who is real and doesn't have to pretend to be someone he isn't. Where are the men that open doors, tell you how beautiful you are, who seem interested in what you say? Where are the men that have manners? Who are polite? Who don't oogle and google you, but who are respectful and considerate? Where are the ones who treat you like a queen? Who ask you on a date, not just a "hang out"? Who call instead of text? Where are the ones that like to read, like to play and have fun, who love serious long talks, who are humble yet just confident enough to be a good guy, who know something other than sports, who can cook, who want to travel the world, who are educated?

Maybe old classic movies and my own imagination have set the standard for my perfect man too high. All I want is a Cary Grant. If you've ever seen his movies, you'll know what I mean-Classic, debonaire, with a killer sense of humor and striking masculine good looks, well dressed, knows how to treat a woman...He'd be mesmerized by my every move, go out of his way to do those sweet, little things, he'd sweep me off my feet with his personality, intelligence and charm. Maybe even bring me flowers. Maybe they don't make men like that anymore. 

Maybe its not them, maybe its me? My expectations and my hopeless romantic personality set myself up for disappointment. If thats the case, I guess my only option in life is to be a nun, because I am not settling.

If I ever seem lost in a thought or look like I'm having a hard time thinking, its probably because I'm pondering the ponderings of a troubled, tormented soul. My mind is probably going around in circles, asking myself the same question over, and over, and over again....After all my lovely experiences with men, I'll probably be brain dead from trying to figure out why they are they way they are, by the time I'm 26.

Cary Grant, where the heck are you??!