Tatay's Broken Mold

When I was about four years old my mother told me I cried and cried when I found out I couldn't marry my father. Little did either of us know what a foreshadowing it would turn out to be.

I'm sure there are thousands of studies about who people tend to marry and why, but I think it's logical to say that if one grows up in a relatively happy household, they will seek partnership with someone who resembles one or both of their parents in some way. As I'm sure I've blogged (read: whined) before, it's probably obvious that I am looking for many of my father's qualities in a man. The problem with this is I don't think they make them like my father in this country. That is probably the weirdest thing I've ever said but it's true. That's not to say they don't exist, but they are awfully hard to come by. Most American men aren't taught to be sensitive or gentle. We can all accept that generalization as true, no?

But it's more than that. There is an innocence about my father that at 68 he still possesses, and it amazes me. I have yet to meet a man who even comes close to having this vulnerability about them. Of course he has his shortcomings and traditional beliefs that can be narrow minded at times, but we all do. It's what makes us who we are. I do think the human mind is capable of opening up to just about anything, especially the acceptance of our fellow human beings, but only if the burden of self-importance is overcome. For now, everything in moderation, right?

Before your educated yet perverted minds get to it (no doubt there already) I do not suffer an Elektra complex. I respect and love my father, but I don't want my mother dead nor do I actually want my father. Incest isn't really my scene. But I do wonder if in this day and age men like him exist in my generation.

This war has darkened everything. Fear is a major factor in our every day lives, at least that's what the media/war lords want us to accept for ratings/votes, and it doesn't lend a hand in allowing people their innocence. How can you believe the good in other people or in the purity of life when you feel threatened by strangers as well as those who are supposed to be your protectors? Maybe I'm fooling myself in thinking other people feel the same way, but show me a man my age who doesn't hide his fear with machismo and I'll show you our wedding picture.

But I can't really have that little faith. I'm probably just looking in the wrong places. After all, I am in NYC, the self proclaimed capitol of the world, which leads me to my next theory. Maybe I should move abroad for a while (something that has been in the back of my mind since I graduated college) both to experience a different way of life and a different...shall we say, breed? of men. (Not that I have ANY experience, proof or validation to make this gigantic sweeping judgment, I am well aware. But what do you expect from an almost 30 year old virgin with bright eyes and a suitcase of unfounded fears of men/sex/relationships?) Of course, unless I move to an African desert or a jungle in Thailand I fear the working for a living will cage me in the same type of life I live now. Which is not to say is bad, it's just...not different.

And let's not forget the spark, shall we?

Have I mentioned one of the things I have in common with my father, oddly enough, is my occasional naiveté?