Have our standards fallen so far?

I ask this question because its effects come up a lot. A friend is in the midst of a rancorous break-up with her boyfriend of a handful of months. I don't know the details, but I'm willing to take her side. After all, that's what friends do: snap to defensive judgements. Anyway, no doubt this fellow is a fool. My friend is pretty, smart, exciting, amorous, and has a good head on her shoulders. I'd snap her up myself, but she's butters her toast from right to left, instead of left to right. That's a deal-breaker for me, and no doubt thousands of other guys with TRUE priorities.

She said that when they started, she was certain he was a "good guy". This seems to be a term that, even though it seems obvious, is really a complicated subject. Like when politicians talk about "family values", they're not really talking about the values of any particular family. They're talking about whether or not you can kill embryos, whether or not people are having sex with a partner who has "opposite" equipment, and whether or not Jesus belongs on the dollar bill.

So when women talk about finding a "good man", the phrase connects to a part of the brain that deals with what is described (in grammar terms) as the subjunctive. The subjunctive deals with things that are not true at the moment, but could be possible in the future ("I would like it if my foot were not on fire.") Women who already have a "good man" no longer feel the need to speak of it at all (perhaps fearing being able to find wood to knock on), so the term remains mostly in the realm of singles.

I strove for most of my life to be a "good man". I wasn't always sure what that meant, and even now I'm not sure I have the complete checklist. Over my years, I just did what I thought was the best choice in most situations, without too much thought as to how it would go over with "the ladies". I assumed that if I did good things, guys would want to be my friend, and women would swoon. It doesn't really work like that, it seems.

Or does it?

A friend from a previous period of schooling and I took a brief excursion down memory lane. We were reminiscing about old acquaintances, and the subject turned to a mutual friend. Because I already have two other generic friends in this entry, I'll call this girl "Jasmine". Her real name is nothing like "Jasmine", and a name like "Jasmine" is not meant to imply that she was a sultan's harem girl at some point. It's just a way to keep people straight while still retaining the slightly-absurdist vein of all my other posts.

Jasmine and I had once approached the prospect of dating, but I had declined; she wasn't my type. Apparently, one of the roots of her interest in me was a particular incident of me escorting her from a late night rehearsal to her dorm. It wasn't very far, and the campus was not particularly dangerous. No doubt it perceived as a possible romantic gesture. After all, who escorts people to their doors nowadays? Hardly anyone, apparently.

For me, walking with girls at night is just something that's a good idea. There are enough news reports with college women being abducted and abused; I'm not the kind of person to just drive home in my car when a quick 5 minute walk can save me later anxiety.

Apparently, this isn't a common attitude. My friend assures me so. In any case, Jasmine interpreted it as tantamount to asking her out. Had I known, I would have set the record straight. I dislike leading people on. Of course, if I had explained that I was walking her home so that she wouldn't become an unfortunate statistic, that may have solved the misunderstanding. Solved it, but also convinced her that I was possibly a weirdo.

So here's the dilemma: I thought it was a practical thing. Walking someone home while having conversation is an easy way to avoid the sticky trap of implying that a woman can't take care of herself. Once, a woman was miffed that I was walking her home, because it implied that I thought she (as a weak woman) couldn't handle an assailant. She thought it an affront. I had never considered that anyone might think of personal defense as a "competitor sport", but to each there own.

This misunderstanding (and others like) have dogged my steps for years. A few years ago, I came to the realization that I had retroactively "dated" someone in high school. At the time, I had no idea. Apparently, I initiated the relationship by offering my jacket to someone who was shivering during lunch period. We had this crazy idea to eat outside in all weathers; I don't recall why. This girl, Ka'tisha, apparently decided that me having concern for her comfort indicated a deep and burning desire towards romance. I was clueless, and had no idea why she would want to keep my jacket after she returned to the building. I told her "fine", and probably ran over the list of visible symptoms of hypothermia. She said "great", and probably ran over the list of romantic first dates.

My time with Ka'tisha was basically attending a volleyball game. I didn't mind going, since other friends would be there, and there were one or two cute girls on the team that I had crushes on. I recall several long phone conversations, with me spent listening politely while shifting the phone from ear to ear. I recall her reading some of her own poetry to me, but I never had an ear for the "early adolescent" period works, and still don't.

Eventually, our love had run its course. I received a nice breakup letter, which assured me that it wasn't me, it was her. It was very flattering, and I particularly recall a mention of my "heartbreaker's face", which still eludes a proper visualization in my mind. I remember receiving this letter, and basically shrugging, having had no idea what was going on. Since I didn't know what HAD been going on, I wasn't particularly worried about what WAS going on in the letter.

To this day, I think the reason I got that "girlfriend" was because I was one of the few guys who had ever treated her nicely. I'm not sure she understood the difference between "I hope you don't freeze to death" and "I want this jacket, which was so near my skin, to be near you always". Me, being very dense about this sort of thing (a pattern I continue to this day), had no inclination that anything needed to be clarified.

But now we're in the present. I'm no longer a shy 15-year old. Neither, I should state for the record, is anyone else I'm involved with. I'm starting to become quite self-conscious about who I am and how I am "different" from other guys my age. Last week, I was helping to clean after a party. Rising out empty beer bottles at the sink, the hostess suddenly chuckled. I looked at her, and she demurred.

"Is something funny?" I asked.

She smirked. "You're very thorough."

My brain skips a bit. Is this a compliment or a criticism? I respond, "Well, I suppose I am fastidious when it comes to cleaning these bottles."

She barks a laugh. I frown and say, "I should probably avoid using words like 'fastidious', shouldn't I?"

She shakes her head, in disbelief. "Yeah."

I had a great time at this party, but so much of it made me feel like an outsider, even though the party-goers were mostly friends. When I first arrived, having changed shirts to a nice button-down, people commented, "Gosh, you didn't have to dress up." When I unveiled my beer, I had to explain why I liked it. As the evening progressed and the alcohol flowed, I actually eavesdropped on conversations about me, taking place across the room. Then, having some of the actors in the evening's major relationship drama talking in "party conspiracy whispers" as though I wasn't standing right in front of them, about things I probably don't need to hear.

If I'm refilling my glass and heading to the kitchen, I ask if anyone else needs anything. People laugh and call me a waiter. Anything but. It's just common courtesy; at least, I assumed it was common.

I'm not about to change my behaviors. I think they're the right thing to do, most of the time. I like the reactions they receive from people who haven't ever had someone treat them with respect. After all, it's not something funny about me.

It's the bulk of the other guys who are doing it wrong. Too bad there's only a small comfort in doing something just a little better than people who don't do it well in the first place.