Men think women are attracted to power.
And they're right.
BUT
They're not right in the way they think they are.
Power is like beauty - we take hours, spend thousands and even suffer the surgeon's knife to achieve it. Or so we think. All these efforts address only our exterior when, as anyone who can see clearly knows, beauty really does come from within.
Both men and women need to understand that they need to find their own inner, personal power.
Men who don't get this take part in a multitude of pathetic pursuits to gather a fake aura of power around them.
Exhibit No. 1: Muscle Man
This man is harking back to his inner animal. He knows that the herd only has one rutting male at a time, and that the females will choose - he believes - the male with the most physical prowess, because those are the genes that will ensure their progeny are strong enough to fight, hunt and survive.
Fake Prowess Formula: Become the guy who can kick ass = being the guy who gets ass.
And so this man runs, and he wrestles, and he kicks balls, and he pushes weights, and he HAI-YAs as he karate chops his opponents.
Pecs, thighs, ass, neck, abs... rock hard, ripped and ready to go.
Take heart, dear Sportsman: some women will be into this. Do 100 pressups over her while connected doing the ol' in-out in-out and, trust me, she'll like it. But, my dear, underneathe the deltoid and the bicep, the hot groin and the tricep that makes her... oohoohoohoohoo... shake, you are still there. Musculo-skeletal power will not hide a lack of inner power.
Your hero: Michael Jordan.
My reality check: OJ Simpson.
Exhibit No. 2: Politician
This man, like Exhibit 1, knows the leader of the herd gets the harem. Within the human herd, therefore, policiticans (be they democratically elected or despots) are in charge and so they are the leader, right?
Fake Prowess Formula: Become the guy in charge = get to be the guy in charge. And being in charge of everything, means you can get anything. Even her.
And so this man speaks loudly, gestures profusely, talks a good game. He wheels and deals and wines and dines till he becomes the Go To Guy.
Bodyguards, campaign contributors, chiefs of staff ... All at his beck and call.
Yes, Mr Politician, you're entitled to say that I'm wrong about your power strategy. You can show me the adoring followers - nay, believers - who hang on your every word, your staff who work 70 kazillion hours a week to spread your message, even the intern who let you shove a tightly rolled bundle of dried and fermented tobacco in to her humidor.
You still don't get my vote.
Your hero: You're probably looking at Bill Clinton as your proof that politician = power.
Well, I hate to break it to you, Mate, but that guy's power comes from more than just the job. It's INSIDE him. As I write this, it's been 10 years since they played Hail to the Chief when he entered a room, yet there is still a long line of women who'd happily suck his cigar.
My reality check: John Kerry. Handsome, rich, powerless.
Exhibit No. 3: Money Man
This is the man who concentrates not on the herd, but on the tribe. His subconscious is learning from his Paleolithic ancestors: the man of the family has to be able to provide. Find good shelter, hunt for meat to feed and pelts to clothe, and that dear sweet women that you clubbed over the head and dragged to your cave will choose to stay there.
Fake Prowess Formula: I can provide for you = I get to have you.
And so this man goes to the best schools, manoeuvres himself into the best jobs, climbs the corporate ladder and gets the stock options.
Yes, Money Man, your money will - pardon the pun - pay off. Not only will you be able to afford as many hookers as you want, but you'll be able to set up a stunning female mate in a gilded cage. Hell, you'll even have a choice.
Bachelorette No. 1: Thanks to the hangover from Jane Austen's time, it's still true that some women can only ensure their financial security by attaching themselves to a prosperous mate. Look for a woman sashaying towards you who's part Marilyn Monroe, part Dolly Parton. Except not as intelligent as either of them.
Bachelorette No. 2: This woman may stumble your way in her designer high heels, trying to morph into a seductive man-eating siren while still crying softly and holding a hand up to her forehead, soothing the dull pain caused by years of head-butting the glass ceiling. She may be a little clumsier in the sex bomb department, but she'll have a better understanding of the tradeoff, and she'll bring as much intelligence and dedication as she wasted on the corporate world into your home and to rearing your sprog.
Bachelorette No. 3: This woman is a social climber. She grew up poor and wants to be upper middle class, or she grew up middle class and wants to join the Golf Club set. She is no damn fool. She's the ultimate honey trap. Before you know it you'll have shelled out three month's salary on a garish engagement ring and you're standing at the top of aisle in front of 300 guests about to enjoy an excessively lavish occassion, while she floats towards you, a meringue of silk and tulle. She will be, on the outside, the perfect wife and mother. She will keep up appearances at all costs. As long as you keep bringing in enough money for her to have more and better and shinier things than your social set. If you impose any financial restrictions, or do something to embarrass her in public, she'll be gone faster than the Roadrunner.
They'll all wear the 5 carat engagement ring. They'll all your snotgoblins around in the Porsche Cayenne. They'll all your arm - the perfect accessory - at company parties, but, know this:
- Bachelorette No. 1 will make you the envy of your friends.
- Bachelorette No. 2 will make you the envy of your friends AND their wives.
- Bachelorette No. 3 will make you envy your friend who married Bachelorette No. 2.
They'll all also schtup the pool boy. Or fuck you sideways in the divorce.
Your hero: Donald Trump.
My reality check: Mark Zuckerberg.
Exhibit No. 4: Car Man
If you can't build the perfect body, become a pied piper of the people, or wake up every morning to the soft sound of cha-ching, then at least you can LOOK like it.
Fighter planes are a mechanical expression of the ultimate strong man, of having the ultimate say, of the ultimate hunter. Because if you add technology to base instinct, there's nothing you can't do.
You can't have a fighter plane, obviously.
But you can have, in your own little urban, corporate way, the next best thing.
A SMOKING HOT CAR.
Fake Prowess Formula: I buy BRRRRM BRRRRRM... I get BRRRRM BRRRRRM
Bugatti Veyron. Porsche Carrera. Lamborghini Reventon. Ferrari Enzo. Koenigsegg CCX.
Are you hard yet?
It looks like a perfect body, it rules the road like it's the goddamn president, and everyone who sees it knows that the guy inside had to shell out some rock hard cash to get it. Pay the deposit, set up the payment plan, sign on the dotted line and you get to be Muscle Man, Politician and Money Man all in one!
It will work for you, Car Man... up to a point. She'll get in the car, but she may not stay in it.
Let me tell you why.
Most women love getting gifts of assorted chocolates. The pretty boxes, the tissue paper, each individual chocolate nestling in it's own pleated paper cup. The chocolates themselves look delectable. Just like your sportscar, if you think about it. Great paint job, lovely interior decor and a few shiny knobs that do clever things.
But have you ever seen a woman eat a box of assorted chocolates when nobody's watching?
No?
Let me show you.
She picks one up, enjoying that little rustling sound as it breaks free of its individual little indented hollow in the plastic base. She bites the chocolate in half. She looks at the interior of the half that's left in her hand, considering the color and filling. She slowly chews the other half in her mouth, feeling the texture and testing the flavor. The chocolate looked lovely, tasty, divine. But it's promise isn't fulfilled. Maybe the center is hard and stale, or it's nougat when she likes toffee, or it's too rich and sticky. Keep watching. See how her mouth curls into a small sneer? See what she does? She tosses the uneaten half of the rejected chocolate back in the box, and picks up the next one.
Your sportscar, my Dear, is that chocolate box. That extra expense for the mag wheels is the bow. You are a praline. But if you don't taste good, you're done.
Your hero: Any guy with a sportscar that's more expensive than yours.
My reality check: The stab of disappointment I feel every time I bend down to check out who the guy is in the hot car and see a skinny/flabby/wrinkly bugger. The hot guys drive Audis. Jus' sayin'.
Exhibit No. 5: The White Flag Waver
The only thing worse than a man trying to fake rather than find his inner power, is the man who gives it away.
Let's start with Johnny Depp. Blessed with beauty, brains and talent, this small and somewhat effeminate man used to hold everyone's attention when he spoke. It's no accident that he was cast as the kooky Benny, the daredevil Captain Jack and the heart wrenchingly tragic Edward Scissorhands. He has SOMETHING. Something undefinable - as they say in French "un certain je ne sais quoi."
I call it power.
Note: I said Power, not Fake Prowess.
I think Johnny HAD power. I saw it all those years ago on 21 Jump Street - a presence. A quiet force.
But he gave his power away. Perhaps he was tired of all the attention. Perhaps he doesn't want to look like a fresh faced 16 year old speckled with middle aged wrinkles. I have no idea.
All I can tell you is that Johnny Depp now looks like one of those stoners women experiment with at University. She's at a party, everyone's mellow, she ends up in a room with this skinny guy, she thinks "What the hell, I'm young, I should experiment." She's tingling with anticipation at being slowly rocked back and forth by a penis for four hours and then, not only does he not get it up but she realizes he hasn't showered in a week.
Next, Brad Pitt. His performance in Thelma and Louise is forever - FAW-EH-VAH - etched in my memory. Strong, stunning, sexy, dangerous. His power was such that, as a woman, you knew that if you were ever with him you'd lose all control, you'd completely let go and to hell with the consequences.
And then he uglified himself. Oh sure, he cleans up when he has a movie role, but he's kinda slimy now. It's as if he's constantly leaning his entire body slightly back and to the left. He's a powerless slouch.
Frankly, I'd rather be ravished by Angelina.
So... what now?
I know, I know, I've blathered about the negative stuff for too long.
What's a modern man to do?
Disaster is closing in on all sides: environmental erosion, economic collapse, war - all things he cannot control. In the workplace, women fight, slashing desperately with perfectly manicured nails, at the closed doors of the Old Boy's Club. And, at home, the wife not only expects him to help with the housework, but he now has to be in the operating room to see the bloody, slimy, googey horror of his progeny exiting her vagina!
See? Things are WAY more complicated now.
Exhibit No. 6 - The Power Pendulum Man
Power must be flexible, and this man knows it.
It doesn't matter who makes the most money - and this can shift between one partner and the other - as long as the overall financial goals are met. One cooks, the other cleans up afterwards. One empties the dishwasher, the other takes out the trash. It's a lifelong 69.
Still not seeing it? Still not getting who this modern man is, the one with the right kind of power?
Watch a show called White Collar.
Neal Caffrey - Intelligent, erudite, well dressed, exciting. But also flexible.
In a woman's mind, one day Neal has her up against the wall, tearing her stockings and ravaging her, and the next she's handcuffing him to the bed and torturing him for three hours with an ostrich feather.
AND at any moment Neal could get his hands free from those handcuffs and pin her down for a good seeing to.
AND at any time she wanted to get away from that wall, softly take his hand in hers and head for their bed, that would be fine by him too.
The point is that, just like the motion in the midst of the mmm mmm mambo, the power sways back and forth, a pendulum that's shared, but also always within reach for one or other of you to grab and pull back onto your side if you need to.
But all of this is dependent on one very important pre-requisite.
YOU BOTH HAVE TO HAVE POWER IN THE FIRST PLACE AND THAT POWER COMES FROM WITHIN.
To read more in the That's Life series, click the Tag below or the Category link on the left.
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Friday, March 25, 2011 at 8:20PM 
