April 03, 2006

It smells like Roquefort in here, or maybe Gouder

A call to Ethiopian men - don't be like the guy I saw in the bar the other night. Please, please don't copy the cheese of the forefathers of Tom Sellick and Burt Reynolds. Please, please respect the space of other individuals and, as you do for men, do for women.

Ugh. It was the kind of activity I used to lampoon in my not so impressive attempts to begin conversations with members of the opposite sex. The guy from the 1950s or 60s film, with the mustache, who swaggers over to a lady, gets up in her face, and somehow by the awesome power radiating from his every pore, gets her to swoon for him, only to leave her as soon as his desire is fulfilled. You know the type I'm talking about (at least if you are American - the mustache, the shifting weight from foot to foot swagger, the plaid tie in complete clash with every other clothing item, maybe even losing a little hair).

Just don't do it. You are not that cool. Not that I don't admire the audacity of the guy, to some degree. I don't think I ever had the brass ones to walk across the dance hall or bar, in front of God and everyone, and let a lady know that I, the man, had made my decision and it was she. To be fair to myself, though, Ethiopia gives men an exceptional headstart when it comes to these sort of things. That guy might be my mild equivalent in the U.S.

No, please, Ethiopian men, it's embarassing. A little humility, please. At least leave the woman alone. If you can't be at least a little bit light about the situation, don't go up to her, put your hands on both arms of the chair so as she's almost forced to look at you, and whisper your words of charm.


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