FindGayDad Personals Profile for PeteinNewYork

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PeteinNewYork Male 66 Other Muscle Boy
Heaven help me! I “don’t fit in” — literally! — with the postmodern world and its peculiarly selective obsession with “affirming diversity.” According to statistics from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, only a tiny minority of American men — 3.9 percent — are 6’2” or taller. But as a man who stands 6’3” in height, it’s fascinating to notice how, in this era of tolerance and “sensitivity” toward minority groups, mine is exempted from such consideration. Even strangers sometimes stare at me in bewilderment and exclaim, “My, but you’re tall!” More impudence can follow, with a presumptuous demand for specific personal information: “How tall ARE you?” In my experience, women are likelier to speak up in this manner than men. So I’ve finally espoused a policy of responding in a way that both highlights the basically fatuous character of the question and renders the interaction transactional: “I’ll tell you my height if you tell me your bra cup size.” (To her credit, one admirably fair-minded woman unhesitatingly did so!) But, really, think about it. Would it we consider it proper to initiate a conversation with someone physically unusual who we’re encountering for the first time — in an elevator, perhaps — by saying, “My, but you’re fat! How much DO you weigh?” I think not. I’ll never forget the day a woman on Eighth Avenue came hurrying up to me, stopped me in my tracks and — barely able to contain her mirth — looked into my face to ask: “What’s the weather like up there?” Silently, I turned to continue on my way. Undeterred, however, the woman asked the question again. This time it was with a pointed eagerness that left no room for doubt that she considered herself fully entitled to have me take time out from my life and provide her with an answer. Her smile and the sparkle in her eyes conveyed gleeful anticipation of a reply that would serve as her cue for blessing the encounter with additional manifestations of her magnificent wit. Fortunately, the flow of pedestrian traffic served as a more compelling cue — for me — to excuse myself and walk away. The most amazing aspect of the encounter was not that the woman considered herself to be clever — after all, in the realm of humorous repartee, there’s no accounting for taste. Nor was it her dogged determination to impose herself upon my attention. Indeed, even in public, I believe that fluidity with regard to personal boundaries is not necessarily inappropriate in all circumstances. Rather, what astonished me was her apparent belief that (a) I could not possibly have been asked the identical question, numerous times, over the course of several decades (which was, in fact, the case) or that (b) even though I’d probably heard the question before, a repeated hearing of it would surely constitute a welcome experience. I picture her subsequent attendance at a Women’s Issues Support Group on the Upper West Side — a nearby Manhattan neighborhood that has been characterized by journalist Bernard Goldberg as “the underbelly of the beast” of political correctness. There, midst a general tsk-tsking and wagging of heads in sympathy for the woman’s disappointment over the cruel aborting of her light-hearted attempt to make fun of me, I imagine myself getting written off contemptuously not only as a laughably defective mistake of nature, but as an insensitive misogynist. Although men are less likely to make a fuss about my height, they can be equally foolish when they do. For example, when friends introduced me to a man they erroneously thought I might be interested in dating, he began the acquaintanceship by declaring, “You’re tall!” Then, ensuring that I understood the accuracy of his assessment he repeated it, this time with extra emphasis: “I mean, you’re REALLY TALL! Big too.” I resisted the temptation to respond by saying, “You’re perceptive! I mean, you’re REALLY PERCEPTIVE! Boring too.” Oh, well. I guess that — for some people — I’m more of a curiosity than a living, breathing human being. But if I “don’t really belong” in an “inclusive” society as they envision it, I don’t mind. Life is very good for me . . . and getting better all the time! In ’03, I suffered a catastrophic cerebral hemorrhage that paralyzed the left side of my body, rendering me without movement or sensation therein. Brain surgery to remove the previously undetected birth defect (an “AVM”) insured that future hemorrhages would not occur, and I consider myself very fortunate even to be alive. The fact that I’m now able to walk, unassisted, with a close-to-normal gait is very remarkable, and year-by-year it is steadily improving! I work full time as a secretary in the litigation department of a large corporate law firm, where — as an attorney once put it — our client base consists chiefly of “big companies in big trouble.” Occasionally it feels like being in a pressure cooker, but I am treated well and told “thank you” for the work I do. (How many people can report THAT about their jobs?) Additionally, I work intermittently as a model, and I write a regular column of humor for TRANSITIONS, the newsletter of the National Coalition For Men. I’m enjoying myself!
New York New York
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