The Perplexing Male Mind

Years ago a woman who did pro-bono work in a prison told me the inmates would routinely ask her out on dates.

It is unclear what a date within a prison would entail. Oddly, I imagine something similar to a junior high date: the couple talks and kisses while the cell mate on the top bunk pretends to read. It isn't an enticing prospect.

This woman is a smart attorney with a beautiful figure and face. The men seeking her company are incarcerated for life.

It is phenomenal that these men thought a woman who encapsulates Destiny's Child's "Independent Woman" would date them.

These were not intellectual political prisoners such as Vaclav Havel or Nelson Mandela. They are hard criminals who hurt people. Did they really think her dating prospects were so weak that she would consider accepting an invitation to spend time with a dangerous high school drop out confined to a jail cell?

Or did these men over-value themselves to an absurd degree? They are incarcerated for life yet arrogant. Perhaps confinement has warped their self-conception.

Generally, women and men with similar attributes (levels of income, attractiveness, intelligence, etc.) find each other and form relationships. Yet, I've often observed men with modest attributes approach far more accomplished women.

A college friend was a model, and I recall how every man at a crowded bar attempted to chat her up one evening. She had a boyfriend and didn't welcome any of their approaches.

I wondered what drove these men to pursue a woman so unlikely to return their regard. Is it a deep seated sense of entitlement? Are they simply pushing the envelope? Do they have no sense of embarrassment when they are refused?

As I waited at the crosswalk of 23rd street the other night an elderly drunk homeless man asked me to help him cross the street.

His request was a cheeky come-on rather than a feeble person's request for assistance. He wore a lecherous smile. It did not elicit sympathy.

For the millionth time I marveled at the strange ways some men perceive women and themselves.

Constant and Variable

A friend took me to see "In the Next Room (or the vibrator play)," which is set in the late 1800s. Much of the play is about blindness and perception with regard to science, medicine, and social progress. The main characters are two couples, a cold scientist married to an engaging woman who seeks greater intimacy with her husband and a depressed (and possibly lesbian) woman married to a man frustrated by her behavior.

The scientist treats the depressed woman's hysteria with an electronic vibrator to produce a paroxysm (orgasm). The women are inspired to explore their sensuality, but the "rational" men around them seem baffled by the women's "erratic" behavior. All are fairly clueless about female sexuality, but the men are unique in their simultaneous arrogance and ignorance.

At one point in the play, a character marvels about the constancy of electric light compared to flickering candles. Electricity made a treatment available but the condition was misidentified. Ironically, the condition did not require a technical solution. The characters populate a world that has recently become brightly illuminated yet they continue to lack insight.

I suppose in a world that lacked consistent, bright light, the elation about obtaining this technology overshadowed the appeal of other types of light.

Candles are dim and flicker, and these qualities are admirable in certain circumstances. Flickering is comparable to variations or imperfections in paint application, pottery, fabric, wood, brickwork, or plaster. I enjoy flickering as I enjoy the occasional pop or crackle in a vinyl record or nutty grains in bread. I regard flickering as a light texture.

Uniformity is unappealing. I can immediately recognize CGI technology in films because it is too uniform. When it is used within the premise of replicating something real, it fails. Real things are variegated. While I acknowledge the superiority of modern recordings, their slickness invites boredom. The sound of vinyl is richer, as brown bread is richer than white bread.

I recently saw a film in which a character sang about the Moon's phases. He cautioned that a Moon that isn't full only appears partial. The Moon is always complete, it is only our perception of it that makes it appear incomplete.

This sentiment struck me as hopeful. Things often are not what they seem to be. There is an alternative view that may make more sense. Just as, when it is dark, the Moon reminds us that the Sun still shines somewhere else.