Actually, I think I get them better than most women do and sometimes better than they, being men, do themselves.
Taxis.
I get them too. Better than most women, I know this simply because I am usually sitting in mine while they are still struggling to flag down theirs. And maybe better than most men too... simply because I am a woman and a good number of cab drivers are men.
I was at a dog park the other day and struck up a conversation with a stranger. Well, he actually didn't end up being a stranger since we had met months before at a movie premiere; gotta love how very small the world is.
Anyway, this man is a writer and we got on the subject of my writing and its subject matter and well, you guessed it, men.You would think I picked up a sudden case of tinnitus with how one sentence he muttered is still ringing in my ears.
He told me, " When I was growing up and my sister had guy problems, my mom used to always say to her- Honey, men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes."
Men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes... men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes... still ringing.
I wanted to ask him if his mom was from New York. Because in New York you aren't very biased as to the type of taxi that comes along. When you want one, you just want one! Who cares if the seats are ripped or if it smells like a fish market.
But in life, at least for me, the kind of man I desire doesn't come along every five minutes. So it has been hard for me to fully embrace the indifference of this sentence.
But I must say, I like the flippant way in which it is expressed. As if to say, honey- don't cry over spoiled milk.
Since it has not left my thoughts or my ears for that matter I decided to sit with it-
Sat down, crossed my legs and replaced my usual mantra with- Men are like taxis, one comes along every five minutes... OM
I opened one eye, left the other one closed... is it working? Do I feel more empowered? Less caring... more flippant? Because flippant is what I am going for here.
Men are like taxis, one comes along every five minutes.... OM
Now I just feel stupid and a bit angry because I don't feel flippant enough.
I decide to leave my poor attempt at meditation and just ask myself the following question-
"If men are like taxis, is the fare really worth the ride?"
I mean think about it, you have some taxis that pick you up and take you miles out of your way, around and around in circles because they think you don't know any better.
You haven't been in a taxi until you have been to Egypt. I prayed in every language I knew for the lives of those with me and those we were at some point going to crash into. Whether it be actual people, a donkey or a goat.
Then you have those taxis that the moment you get in them you feel dirty and like you need another shower even though you just came from one.
But then there are those taxis that come along in moments when you are so grateful you don't even see their shortcomings. Such as the one I got into in Buffalo, New York in the dead of winter. I literally felt as if I were dying from frozen blood vessels and not a cab in sight. And then, as if the heavens parted, the most beautiful taxi I have ever laid eyes on came just in the nick of time. And had heat too!
I guess if men are like taxis, the ride is always worth the fare, since it inevitably gets you to where you were intending to be.
I guess maybe I do care, and that is not a negative thing. I love men. The day men start feeling like taxis to me is the day I will stop writing this blog!
I get them, yet I don't.
Actually, I think I get them better than most women do and sometimes better than they, being men, do themselves.
Taxis.
I get them too. Better than most women, I know this simply because I am usually sitting in mine while they are still struggling to flag down theirs. And maybe better than most men too... simply because I am a woman and a good number of cab drivers are men.
I was at a dog park the other day and struck up a conversation with a stranger. Well, he actually didn't end up being a stranger since we had met months before at a movie premiere; gotta love how very small the world is.
Anyway, this man is a writer and we got on the subject of my writing and its subject matter and well, you guessed it, men.You would think I picked up a sudden case of tinnitus with how one sentence he muttered is still ringing in my ears.
He told me, " When I was growing up and my sister had guy problems, my mom used to always say to her- Honey, men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes."
Men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes... men are like taxis, another one comes along every five minutes... still ringing.
I wanted to ask him if his mom was from New York. Because in New York you aren't very biased as to the type of taxi that comes along. When you want one, you just want one! Who cares if the seats are ripped or if it smells like a fish market.
But in life, at least for me, the kind of man I desire doesn't come along every five minutes. So it has been hard for me to fully embrace the indifference of this sentence.
But I must say, I like the flippant way in which it is expressed. As if to say, honey- don't cry over spoiled milk.
Since it has not left my thoughts or my ears for that matter I decided to sit with it-
Sat down, crossed my legs and replaced my usual mantra with- Men are like taxis, one comes along every five minutes... OM
I opened one eye, left the other one closed... is it working? Do I feel more empowered? Less caring... more flippant? Because flippant is what I am going for here.
Men are like taxis, one comes along every five minutes.... OM
Now I just feel stupid and a bit angry because I don't feel flippant enough.
I decide to leave my poor attempt at meditation and just ask myself the following question-
"If men are like taxis, is the fare really worth the ride?"
I mean think about it, you have some taxis that pick you up and take you miles out of your way, around and around in circles because they think you don't know any better.
You haven't been in a taxi until you have been to Egypt. I prayed in every language I knew for the lives of those with me and those we were at some point going to crash into. Whether it be actual people, a donkey or a goat.
Then you have those taxis that the moment you get in them you feel dirty and like you need another shower even though you just came from one.
But then there are those taxis that come along in moments when you are so grateful you don't even see their shortcomings. Such as the one I got into in Buffalo, New York in the dead of winter. I literally felt as if I were dying from frozen blood vessels and not a cab in sight. And then, as if the heavens parted, the most beautiful taxi I have ever laid eyes on came just in the nick of time. And had heat too!
I guess if men are like taxis, the ride is always worth the fare, since it inevitably gets you to where you were intending to be.
I guess maybe I do care, and that is not a negative thing. I love men. The day men start feeling like taxis to me is the day I will stop writing this blog!
Promise:)