I recently wrote a recent post titled, “How to Get Hot Chicks to Read Your Blog.” It was a response to an email from a male blogger who was in awe of all my female readers.
But there’s a negative side to having a blog that women like to read. I’m not a woman. And they are. And flirting can only go so far. The big question is, “Can I actually be friends with any of these women?”
Believe it or not, it can be lonely hanging around blogs that are so heavily geared for women. Sometimes I wonder if I belong. I’m even beginning to question my decision to go to BlogHer. In what way does BlogHer represent anything about me?
I think the only solution for me is to finally get my cojones — and interact with more men. What am I afraid of? I know I’ve mentioned this before in the past, but each time I took the journey into male blogging, I promptly ran back to the soft and ample bosoms of the female bloggers. Believe me, I’m dragging myself kicking and screaming. Most men are pretty dull. I certainly don’t look at THEIR photos on Flickr, in amazement that such gorgeous individuals could actually care about me! But it is time to expand my horizons.
I get jealous of the comaraderie of female bloggers. You act like sisters. You write blogs for each other. Mommybloggers, in particular, seem to consider themselves to be born in the image of Good Housekeeping magazine, and even address their readers as “fellow mothers.” More power to you. This is about me…. and my identity. For better or worse, I’m not a parent, so it makes sense that I’m not on the same page as the mommybloggers, or even the daddybloggers, of the world, who clearly have specific interests that are important to them, like celebrity strollers.
I know several female bloggers here in California. It would be cool to be their “friends.” These female bloggers fall into two groups — those in a steady relationship or married and those who are not. Both types have built-in obstacles for any real friendship.
Let’s take the married mommyblogger, for example. How the hell am I ever going to be friends with her? Let’s use the imaginary BloggerMama, for example.
Imagine I email BloggerMama right now and say, “Hey, BloggerMama, leave the husband and child at home, and let’s go check out the new Keanu Reeves flick together?”
It’s just not going to work.
First of all, she would probably want to bring the baby, and I just don’t deal well with babies at the movie theater. And despite me being the perfect gentleman, sooner or later, if I email her every week, asking her to go to the movies, Mr. BloggerMama is gonna hate my guts. The only way we could make this work is if we went out as married couples. And that means, we have two non-bloggers in the group — Mr. BloggerMama and Ms. Neilochka, which means we have to talk about real life, and BloggerMama and I only know and care about blogging crap.
The situation is even more dangerous with the unattached female blogger. Right from the beginning, she is going to wonder about my intentions:
“Hmmm… I know things are rocky with Sophia. Is he really asking me to see that Keanu Reeves film or does he… Hmmm… he’s always writing about his penis. I wonder if he is a sex-crazed nutcase who just wants to… Hmmm… I actually like sex-crazed nutcases, but what if we do something, and he blogs about it? He’s the type of jerk who blogs about anything on his stupid blog. Hmmm… he does write about his mother a lot. He must be a real mama’s boy. Hmmm… I wonder if he just wants to sleep with a shiksa and then say he can only marry someone Jewish. Hmmm… I bet you he is! What an asshole! What type of slut does he think I am. F**k him! I think it is safer that we never meet…”
Ok, make believe we DO go to see this Keanu Reeves movie together. Just as friends. We split the bill. We each buy our own popcorn. We have a great time. But trouble is looming. We’ve all seen “When Harry Meets Sally.” How long is it going to be before one of us is checking out the other’s ass?
Let me rephrase that. How long before I’m checking out her ass?
Let me rephrase AND answer that. At what point during our first meeting will I be thinking about her naked? Answer: Probably during the first ten minutes.
What can I do? I’m a man. I’m sorry. It’s horrible, I know.
Can you see how it actually sucks to have so many female readers and so few male readers? It’s like some bizarre Twilight Zone episode where I am surrounded by hundreds of desirable and intelligent women, but when I reach out to them, they fade into nothingness, and the only place to go for companionship is into the smoky room in the back with the men, along with their smelly cigars, Beer Nuts, and poker chips.