Chapter 73: On Being A Real Man

May 3, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

“Thanks for coming early,” I said to Jorge as we sat down in my study.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I just get the feeling that something’s not right. That you’re just kind of going through the motions.”

Jorge was silent for a moment. He leaned back, closing his eyes, took a deep breath and started to speak, with eyes still closed.

“Karate and dance have more than a few things in common,” he said slowly. “Each have their sets of prescribed moves. You can learn to do them correctly, but if you don’t feel them, they’re just technically correct placement of hands, feet, and body. So, I have found, is life.”

I nodded, but then, realizing his eyes were closed, said ‘Yes’ softly, and he continued.

“I just kind of feel as if I’m never quite where I want to be. Work is fine, so far as it goes. But it seems as if I kind of bounce from one messed up relationship to another.”

“Do NOT let my sister’s problems cause you to think you’re the issue!”

“It’s not just her,” Jorge said. “I’ve told you about my first attempts at relationships. Since then, I’ve bounced from one girl to the next. And it seems I’m wanted until I’m not.”

“Again, I said gently, “don’t let Stephanie be the standard you measure yourself by. I know you were with Cindi, but I’m also sure she let you know that she was more or less waiting on Chris.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was kicked to the curb.”

“She only ever said great things about you,” I said. “And if you could make Cindi happy, you MUST be as good as she says you are!”

Jorge laughed, “Coming from you, I suppose that’s the best possible compliment I could get. Your reputation is, well, something a guy could only dream of!”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve seen you with quite a few lovelies along the way. And I’m STILL jealous about Sheila!”

Jorge smirked, “You have no idea how good that made me feel!”

“Or you how much crap I got from my wives, Jennifer, and Josie!” I chuckled.

“J&J told me! They found it to be the most hilarious thing that had happened in ages.”

“Of course they did! The great Lothario gets shot down by the cute girl! Hey, it happens.”

“Even to you?” Jorge grinned.

“Sorry, I guess that sounded smug and misogynistic, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“I thought things were going OK with Trish.”

“They are,” Jorge replied with a wan smile. “That’s just it. They’re going OK.”

“You know, I wonder if you and I suffer from the same disease,” I said. “It would make sense given our moms.”

“What’s that?”

“Something Abbie said to me the other day. Something she said I taught her, but something I know I have a problem with. How to be loved.”

Jorge was silent for a few minutes, obviously thinking.

“You know,” he said. “I might just have to give YOU a nickel at the end of this.”

“Nah, it’s therapeutic for me, too. I had real problems with that, and you know where it led and what my life became because of it. Maybe that’s the struggle we have. To truly let someone, anyone, love us as much as we love them.”

“Jennifer said something along those lines to me back when I was having trouble with Stephanie. But there were deeper problems, obviously.”

“She had no idea how to love anyone but me,” I said. “And that’s her struggle now. And why we have to keep our distance.”

“I could never have been anything other than a fallback for her,” Jorge said. “I recognize that now.”

“Ed’s cut from a different cloth than either of us,” I said. “He’s made of sterner stuff, and rolled up his sleeves to do the hard work neither of us could do. And don’t blame yourself, Jorge. I made this mess of my own free will. You got sucked into it without understanding what was going on. To be honest, it could have gone a lot worse.”

“That’s both frightening and true. Jennifer said something similar. Your sister really is a hollow shell of her former self, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve said that myself. Ed’s doing the hard work to help her rebuild a proper psyche, with serious help from a therapist. But we’re off topic. I think, Jorge, that you need to allow Trish to love you. Quit thinking you’re unlovable. You aren’t. I know that for a fact!”

“And how do YOU know this?”

“Because, as strange as this sounds, I love you.”

He looked shocked for a moment, then nodded, “You know what? Once you can say THAT, I think you’re onto something. It’s like your issue with hugs that we talked about.”

“Yes. And between us, I think we’re figuring out what it means to be REAL men. I don’t mean that macho bullshit ‘real man’ that society seems to think about when you say that. I mean a man who, while being strong, assertive, and protective, can love and can be loved, who can express emotions, who can, when it comes right down to it, be an intimate friend.”

“You know,” Jorge said with a smile, “for a «jävla idiot», you can be a pretty smart guy!”

“Thanks, Lucy!” I chuckled. “I think we’re even on the 5¢ this time. Let’s go rap!”

“I may have to talk to Abbie to find out how to recognize when someone loves you!” he said as we got up.

“Good luck on that!” I said as we exchanged a manly, friendly, hug, then went out to the great room for the Rap Session.

Given the conversation Jorge and I just had, I felt the topic had to be about what it meant to be a ‘real man’ and how men should relate to each other, and the problems we had.

“I don’t know,” Mike said. “Hugging guys seems, well, gay.”

Elizabeth laughed, “But put on a football uniform and you can grab all the asses you want? And that’s not ‘gay’?”

The entire room broke up in laughter.

“She has a point,” Ben laughed. “Hockey players hug each other when they score goals. And baseball players when they win the World Series, for example. There’s that great shot from the ‘75 or ‘76 Reds with a pitcher jumping into Johnny Bench’s arms!”

“1975,” I said. “Bench and Will McEnaney on the Sports Illustrated cover.”

“How the heck do you know THAT?” Mike asked.

Elyse laughed, “You are talking to one of the biggest ‘Big Red Machine’ fans in the world! Oh, and Steve’s a big fan, too! We’re from the Cincinnati area, along with Jennifer, Kara, and Bethany. And I’m pretty sure Steve has a copy of that magazine squirreled away somewhere.”

“I do,” I acknowledged.

“Mike, do you think Bench is gay?” Elizabeth asked.

I almost said something about the rumors which had always swirled around Bench, but decided against it. They’d been proven false when he married in 1975, and despite quickly divorcing, he’d remarried in 1987 and he and his current wife had a son.

“No,” Mike said, chagrined. “That was a dumb thing to say, I guess.”

“You think?” Elizabeth said. “Guys should be able to hug. The fact that you would think it’s ‘gay’ is probably a sign of latent homosexuality!”

She managed to hold a straight face for about five seconds before she started laughing.

“Does anyone in this room think Steve is gay?” Jorge asked with a smirk.

“As if!” Abbie laughed. “He won’t even do a threesome with a girl and another guy!”

“Abbie!” Kara admonished, but she was laughing.

“Sorry. But it’s true!”

“We hugged just before we came out of his study,” Jorge said. “In fact, that conversation we just had is what generated today’s topic about men.”

“I think you all need to learn to cry, that’s what I think,” Carissa said.

“Some of us do,” Jorge said quietly.

“Yes, we do,” I agreed.

“I bet you Ben and Mike don’t cry,” Claire said. “Or Jack.”

“No personal attacks, please,” Bethany admonished gently.

“Sorry,” Claire said. “But I bet of all the guys in the room, only Steve, Jorge, and probably Henry are not only willing to admit they cry, but to cry in front of other people.”

“It’s a social problem,” Bethany said. “Men are conditioned from the time they’re young that being ‘macho’ is somehow a good thing. Well, I’m here to tell you that holding all that emotion in will kill you. Emotionally. Spiritually. And, I’m sure Jessica will agree, physically. The other thing you need to know is that WE need you to understand OUR emotions. When my husband died, the most important thing anyone did for me was hold me and just let me cry. No platitudes. No attempts to sooth me. No attempts to get me to stop crying. Just holding me. Both sitting up, and letting me cry myself to sleep at night. Not a word was uttered. And I probably cried for a good twenty hours, total.”

“Steve?” Michelle asked.

Bethany smiled, “Yes. How did you know?”

“Because under that karate physique is a sensitive caring guy.”

“The same is true for the lug sitting next to me,” Trish said, kissing Jorge on his cheek.

“I agree with Bethany in that it’s a social, and I’ll add, cultural, problem,” Jorge said. “I have no problem with hugging a guy friend, considering that’s the culture I grew up in. There are many countries that go further. Go to Russia, for example, and guys have no problem with a good hug and the kiss on the cheek! And you KNOW that the average Russian man makes Steve seem comparatively bisexual!”

The room exploded with laughter and Jorge got THREE cushions thrown at him!

“You all get awful carried away over biochemical reactions,” Elizabeth said with a smirk.

“And you have NO emotions?” Joan challenged.

“Oh, I do. But I recognize them for what they are - just automatic reactions to external stimuli. They don’t MEAN anything.”

“Seriously?” Michelle asked. “None of it matters because it’s just a bit of chemistry and biology.”

“Oh, it matters, but it doesn’t MEAN anything. It matters because other people have their own biochemical reactions to yours. But in the end, it’s all just chemistry. The universe is just physics. It doesn’t MEAN anything. None of it does.”

“I used to think that,” Abbie said. “Well, except with regard to music. Then someone loved me and I learned to be loved. And then, suddenly, everything had meaning. All of life.”

“More biochemistry,” Elizabeth said.

“No, it’s deeper than that,” Abbie argued. “And I think you can never know it until someone truly loves you. And something in the Bible that I heard but never understood completely makes sense.”

“God is love,” Michelle said, completing the thought.

“There is no god,” Elizabeth said.

“And you’re sure of that?” I asked.

“Prove one exists!” she retorted.

“I didn’t make the claim,” I said. “I’m an agnostic. I simply don’t know. You just said there is no god. Care to back that assertion with proof?”

“Ask one of the believers to prove it!”

Michelle smiled, “I’ll take that one, Steve. Elizabeth, tell me exactly what proof you would accept. In detail so we know what it would take. It can’t be a miracle, because you’ll simply insist that it’s the result of some random physical phenomenon. It can’t be showing Himself to us, because you’ll simply reject it as a mass hallucination. I could go on, but I think you get my point. What WOULD prove it to you? Be honest.”

“Nothing, because no such being exists or even needs to exist.”

“And where did the universe come from?”

“It was always here. Well, there was a singularity before the Big Bang.”

“And where did THAT come from?” Michelle asked.

“Most likely the collapse of the previous universe.”

“So the universe is eternal?”

“I suppose yes,” Elizabeth said.

“So an eternal being COULD exist?”

“If you put it that way, I suppose so.”

“Then the existence of a god, of some kind, is, indeed, possible?”

“No. The universe isn’t conscious or self-aware. It just is.”

“And you know that, how?” Michelle asked. “You have proof? You can define and prove consciousness and self-awareness?”

“Ladies,” I said. “We can go around in circles on this all afternoon. It’s my fault for going down that rabbit trail. Elizabeth, are you really completely and thoroughly existentialist?”

“Yes.”

“I take it you’ve read Kierkegaard?”

“Yes, but I prefer Sartre.”

“So you, like Aristotle, insist that existence precedes essence?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said. “That’s the root of science.”

I nodded, “Very true. But I believe Plato is a better choice for everything other than pure scientific analysis. Essence precedes existence. That is, the form of the tree, the idea of the tree, exists independent of the actual existence of trees. We know what a tree is because it has the form of a tree.”

“OK, now we’re just getting WAY too deep into this!” Claire laughed. “If I wanted a philosophy class I’d sign up for one!”

I laughed, “Sorry. I’m not sure if we can resolve this and maybe we should just go back to practical application. Elizabeth, will you at least admit, along with the existentialists, that meaning originates with the individual experience, and that you can’t assert or deny anyone else’s authentic experience that generates meaning for them?”

“Shit,” she laughed. “I HAD to run into someone who actually knew that!”

“So you weren’t fighting fair?” Carissa asked.

“No, she wasn’t!” Michelle said. “I knew that too. Catholic High Schools are pretty good. Especially when run by a Jesuit!”

“I’m curious,” Jorge said. “Elizabeth, has anyone ever loved you or you loved anyone? Authentically? See, I went to a good school, too!”

“I suppose I wouldn’t know because I don’t believe in love the way you do. But I will say this; I’ve never been in a room of well-educated theists in my life. I’m used to dealing with nutty evangelicals telling me how to live my life or Catholics who wouldn’t know the dogma of their own church if it bit them in the ass!”

“I’m Hindu,” Kajri said. “Though not radical about it. It’s a very different viewpoint than Christianity, but I tend to agree with the theists. And my school in London was good, too!”

Everyone laughed.

“Well, mine in Gloucester sucked!” Cèlia said. “You all lost me twenty minutes ago!”

“Same here,” Marie said. “Now, if we were talking science or math, cool. But philosophy and religion? Forget it.”

“Maybe that’s our topic for next time,” I said. “Rather than trying to solve the problem, just talking about what we all believe.”

That received general approval and the Rap Session ended. Michelle had her bag and fifteen minutes later, the two of us were sitting in the sauna.

“I missed seeing you this last month! I know you had to prioritize your family because of Doctor Jessica’s schedule, so I understand. But I still missed talking to you.”

“Same here! How is school going?”

“Good,” Michelle said. “All A’s at this point. In about a month I’ll be going home for the summer. I’ll miss talking to you.”

“Me too. What are you doing over the summer?”

“Working at a Catholic summer camp as a counselor. I’ve done that the past two years. It’s fun.”

“I went to a Catholic camp in Kentucky for several summers,” I said. “I really enjoyed it. You’ll be back in August?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I never asked, when is your birthday?”

“I turned nineteen on March 1st.”

“You didn’t say anything!”

“You never asked!” Michelle said with a smile. “I only know when yours was because Kara invited me to your party!”

“I didn’t see you there!”

“I already had plans that day. My parents were in town. I was sorry I missed it.”

“Hopefully, next year,” I said. “So, what shall we talk about today?”

“I suppose what you’ve discovered about being a man. And I don’t mean the fact that you have different genitalia than I do!”

I chuckled, “You noticed when we had our clothes off, did you?”

She laughed, “I knew before that, I just hadn’t seen the real thing on an adult. It’s not quite the same as changing a baby’s diaper or looking at drawings in the health book.”

“That’s for darn sure!” I chuckled.

“Yes, yes, you got your eyeful! AND enjoyed it. So? Being a ‘real’ man?”

The conversation went along similar lines to the ones I’d had recently both at the Rap Session and privately, on how I was discovering just what it mean to be a human being, not just a man.

“In a sense,” Michelle said, “it’s closer to a woman’s role of nurturing, than a traditional man’s role as breadwinner and guardian.”

“I’d say so, yes,” I said, “but without becoming a wimp or a doormat. Having strength of character, but knowing when to assert it. Having physical strength, and knowing when to use it. Having emotional strength and being willing to display it.”

“That sounds like exactly what I’d like in a spouse.”

“Then you have your work cut out for you, I hate to say it. Mike and Ben are more representative of the male of the species than Jorge, Henry, and I are.”

“He’s out there. God knows who he is. I just need to find him!”

When she left, my wives and I dressed and headed to Ruth’s Chris Steak House to celebrate Jessica’s birthday. We had a nice meal, then headed home to have cake and ice cream with just the family, as Jessica had requested. I knew better than to ask about watching the Penguins, but I did manage to check the scores and see that they’d beat the Rangers 4-2 in New York. The Hawks had beat the Red Wings the previous night as well. I was still trying to figure out how to get to Pittsburgh, but it just didn’t seem possible.

That night in bed, Kara and I made love to Jessica until she was so tired she simply fell asleep.