As a Guy . . .

I tend to be very visual. That's how almost all of us guys are wired.  You women know that and take advantage of that . . .  which isn't necessarily a bad thing unless your entire self-esteem is wrapped up in your perception of being physically beautiful and fit.

Yesterday (August 1st), my lovely wife and I celebrated our 27th anniversary.  We met after college as our paths crossed at a few different events, married a couple of years later, and then had four kids (in order, boy - boy - boy - girl) spaced out over the next decade.

My dad was born after the turn of the century.  He led an active and busy life through the Depression and WWII, and he got married for the first and only time at age 51.  All three of my uncles on my mom's side of the family fought during WWII and, interestingly, none of them ever married.  So I didn't expect to marry until about 35 or so. Obviously and thankfully, God had different plans for me.

I first met my wife Brenda at a church service. Leland, a friend of mine from college, had responsibilities to place hymnals in the pews before people started showing up for the church service, and one Sunday while visiting as I was helping him I noticed that someone had already arrived.  He was familiar with Brenda and her family because (I'm really going on a tangent here) one weekend during college he and some buddies were camping on South Padre Island when a storm came off the Gulf of Mexico and drove them away. As they were wet and dead-tired in the middle of the night traveling 200 miles back to the University of Texas dorms, someone remembered a family in San Antonio (in the path of the drive back to Austin) who had an open door policy and would let them spend the night in sleeping bags on a dry floor. That would be Brenda's family.

Sorry, I digress ... I really had intended to make a point here. Brenda is pretty. Personally I don't know of any former high school cheerleader who, in her mid-20's, doesn't fall somewhere in the Bermuda triangle between cute, pretty and drop-dead gorgeous. The second time I met Brenda was maybe six months later at a Friday night get-together and she was worn out after a week of business traveling but one of her girlfriends encouraged to come along. So her attire that night was basic grunge ... blue jeans and long-sleeves with shirttail hanging.

I say all of this because even in those first few of times of seeing Brenda, she was different from many of the women with whom I used to spend much time ... women who would model for publications like Mademoiselle (now called Glamour magazine), women who participate in beauty pageants, and some women from sororities back during college whom I would go out with or would match up for our pledges.

Looking back, each of these women can light up a crowded room when they walk into it. Some were high maintenance, some not. But whenever a woman walks into a room she sends a message, whether or not it is intentional. Every guy notices when a woman dresses immodestly.The less modestly you dress, the more likely you are to have our immediate attention, but the less likely you are to have our admiration or respect.  And trust me, you don't want attention without respect. Whether a woman know it or not, she gets put into a category of what type of woman she is based on how she dresses. 

I don't know of anyone who really wants to be remembered as the woman at an event who showed the most skin or the most daring plungeline or hemline or who left the least to the imagination.  It is kinda like the clean/dirty house thing. You and I all know when a house is dirty, or when a woman is dressing immodestly (a guy might not always point out that your house is clean, or that you dress modestly), but we all notice how much more pleasant it is to be around -- whether the house or the modest lady -- because both are most pleasant when clean and pure.

bravobevo bravobevo
2 Responses Aug 2, 2008

How nice to read such wise words on this subject, from a man.

When I was in high school, I went through a phase where I dressed provocatively (without my parents' knowledge!). I loved the attention I got from boys. As you can well imagine, I had to learn the hard way that this was the wrong kind of attention from the wrong kind of boys.

Very well written, sums up my thoughts to an extent.