Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A good man is hard to find

Who hasn't uttered this phrase about a gadzillion times in their life thus fur? And if you haven't had the sheer relish of bemoaning this particular phrase, then you've most certainly heard it from your friends, grandmother, aunts... you get the drift. Why is this lil diddy so popular to say? Because it's TRUE! Take it from me, I am a veritable jerk-magnet, I know the good men exist, I just can't seem to pinpoint where they're all herding, and then dive-bomb their hideout. Let's be honest, I am not one for stealth.
Now before I get ahead of myself and give the impression that I am looking for a man, let me clarify and say that I most certainly am not. My ex-boyfriend (gosh that is SO weird for my to say still) did a real number on me and I don't quite think I have recovered from the shock of what a real relationship feels like, accompanied with real heartbreak, and all those other emotions that I'd rather not carry on about at this venture in time.
I don't want to give any credit to Valentine's Day for sparking this issue of what it means to find a good man, because I for one think Valentine's Day is kind of a huge crock of shit. And no, it's not my bitterness talking, either. My bitterness did do the talking for the better part of my life, yes, but for the first time I can honestly say, I think giving tacky red balloons and even crappier chocolate, mass produced in even tackier heart-shaped boxes as a symbol of your love and affection once a year is bologna! Show a girl you love her on January 7th with flowers, or May 31 with a love letter by the coffeemaker. Don't wait until February 14th to dash into Wal-Mart with all the other last-minute men trying to pick out something red and pink that boldly states Be Mine!
All right, enough of that.... way off topic. This isn't about Valentine's Day. This is about good men, because quite frankly, I don't even want to talk about bad men. We as women spend waaaaay too much time talking about, obsessing about, and giving two shits about the bad men. This is a complete ode to the good men of this world, who yes, are hard to find, but well worth the wait.
My grandpa Rajala for instance comes to mind. Saying this man was a good man, doesn't do him anywhere near justice. But one particular story comes to mind that I would like to share. My grandma recently told me that some years ago she woke up in the night from a bad dream in which she was having some other man's baby. When my grandpa asked her what was wrong, she told him about the dream and how it unnerved her. My grandpa proceeded to tell her she needn't worry for if that ever happened he would stand by her. Now my grandma was shocked! It was merely an uncomfortable dream, but here was her husband telling her that if something like that ever happened (not that it would) he wouldn't leave her, he loved her too much. That blew me away, not his love, because anyone who saw the way he looked at her would know his love in an instant, but the fact that he would so openly overlook something most of us would run to the nearest divorce lawyer for.
Another great man is my dad. When thinking of great men, most girls instantly think, or should think of their dad. My dad is great because while he may not be a romantic love poems and sweep you off your feet kinda guy, he knows how to make his children feel loved. That is an important priority of his. The joy I felt growing up when my dad would sit and watch Saturday morning cartoons with us and crack up at elmer fudd's antics, had us kids in stitches. He has this ability to make us feel special with just his smile and calm demeanor. The way he whips up these altogether bizarre foods like spam on tortillas(spamwraps) and swells with pride when we all actually eat them is just a mark of his talent at fatherhood. In fact, while playing a game over the holidays my sisters and I all had to pick a phrase that described my dad and when all of us turned over our cards to share what we'd picked, it was unanimous: a good father. Having an amazing father is something precious that not all people are blessed enough to have, but something I am grateful for everyday.
My brother Jordan is also someone who actually surprises me sometimes with his insight and heart that would melt most sensible ladies into a puddle of romantic goo. This is surprising only because he was such a little deviant growing up, whom I wholeheartedly plotted his demise. He called me the other day and talked to me about trying to be a blessing in other people's lives, so that I would know more blessings than I could count. How many 22 year old men do this? I hope more than just my brother.
And I am certain there are more great men out there, in fact I do know of loads more, my uncles, my grandpa Sturos, some of my girl friends boyfriends and husbands, you know who you are. Thank you for being good men. For treating your wives, your children, your girlfriend's friends the way they deserve to be treated, for showing the rest of us, that it isn't just a myth that good men exist and that they're not all taken or gay.
I have been thinking all of this lately because I have been starting to feel yet again that maybe something is wrong with me. That I don't have what it takes to really find someone who loves me the way I deserve to be loved. But then I reckon why am I fretting over this? I've spent most of my life chasing men who don't really give two figs about my happiness. Isn't it about time I sit back and wait for one of these elusive good guys to seek me out and go, hey, you're pretty freaking spectacular, I thought a good girl was hard to find. And I'll say, no, no silly. That was just a myth, I've been here all along.

1 comment:

ssturos said...

So, while in class today, I decided to do the unthinkable, and used the internet to check up on your blog and read your latest entry.BAD IDEA! Here I am, sitting in the second row ,right in front of the professor, suppose to be taking notes, and instead I am chuckling and sniffling and wiping my teary eyes. I don't think my teacher was impressed with my little show, he kept giving me glances, knowing full well these emotions were not coming from his anthropology lecture. So, in short, I ADORED your blog today, but learned to NEVER again read it while in class.
Lots of love,
Your sis.