I should be happy for my female blog counterparts and their upcoming excursion to Blogher 2010.
That would be the gentleman's way to feel.
I should be Mr. Jolly Good and Cheerio and Look at You!
But I'm really not.
The six-year old boy inside me keeps yelling, "But what about meeeeee?"
Someone should do a Wedding Crashersesque/Some Like it Hot treatment about a bunch of guys who infiltrate the Blogher world to, well, get with the women.
I'm very excited about the accomplishments of those women who I've met through blogging, those who I almost feel like I know. Some of them have done spectacular things this year with their blog and are being recognized for their brilliance.
But being happy for those folks and being disappointed at the nagging feeling that I didn't get invited to Marsha's seventh birthday party with the pony and balloons are not necessarily mutually exclusive.
I have to ask why? Why is it that women can make such a strong connection through their blogs that they have the desire and the DRIVE to all get together in one place for recognition, hugs and frivolity? How does that happen? Is it really just one massive support group or is there something else going on here? I guess it's something missing in the man genome. I guess I'm jealous about that.
I'm aware that writing a blog is not a manly thing to do. I believe, myself included, that most guys who decide to blog are fully in touch with their sensitive side. (For all I know there are hundreds of thousands of macho-man blogs on the dark side of the internet talking about pumping up and gettin' with the laydees.) But you would think that there are enough of us out there to at least attempt a blogman or bloghim weekend... maybe in Vegas. (See, I'm still a guy.) But I don't think we have the numbers or the motivation. I know we don't... or we would. Hell I probably wouldn't even go.
As I write this I picture replies from women, condescending comments that include words like "hon" and "sweetie".* I don't think any of my readers would, but that's what I picture, which is a good indication of my own insecurities. But really, a whole bunch of "you can't really ever understand, hon, because you're a man."
Where am I going with this?
It's a personal psychosis. I hate being left out of anything. And yet it's a challenge for my love to talk me into doing anything. She wants to get out there, to do stuff, go to the lake, go to the movies, go anywhere and do anything. She is a perfect Blogher candidate, save she doesn't blog. And the thing is, she's almost always right. When she can get my train moving, I'm so happy to have gone. Is that a guy failure, or just mine? Probably just mine.
Anyway, I'm happy for you all. I hope you come back with a million inside jokes I will never get... because you just had to be there.
* Why do convenience store clerks always call me "hon" and "sweetie"? I only have one sweetie and she sleeps in my bed, so knock it off. It's a psychological trick of attempted superiority, I think, and it really pisses me off.
Posted by Casey Freeland at 19:50