Of Mice and Men?

What is a man I ask, I obviously need a role-model in that department. What I see everyday, who I meet, who I talk with, these actions have left me feeling as though a man is really a mouse.

Let me explain:

In the past 5 months I have had to move several times around the city, just me and my 6 suitcases, taxi to taxi, Upper East to Murray Hill. Each time I just packed up my own stuff, hailed a taxi, and did all the heavy lifting myself. Repeatedly carrying these suitcases up flights and flights of stairs, pain ripping through my muscles, sweat running down my face, cursing the antique pre-war walk-up that dominates New York.

Out of each move only 1 time did a guy offer to help me- one guy. He offered to take up 1 suitcase 3 flights of stairs, and then he continued on with his day. However, every single time I moved random women would come over and ask if I needed help, to which I obviously turned them down.

The other night after working more than 12 hours at the office, so tired that my eyes were stinging and tearing, I attempted to hail a cab home. Standing in the cold on the corner with one hand in the air, I watched as a man came out of his building, walked beneath my raised arm, walked directly up to a cab, and opened the door to get in. I of course, stunned to my core, yelled at him "hey, are you fucking serious"? It was only then he stepped away from the cab, leaving the door ajar for me.

Last week I hired a mover to drive and carry my things for me because it was my birthday and I deserved to not do hard labor that day. The man arrives in all his tight-shirt, bulging muscled glory, and within 20 minutes he was breathing hard, leaning against the wall, and taking several long pauses. I on the other hand, had things to do so proceeded to carry my own things (i.e. air conditioner) up the flight of stairs, my Nikes' literally feeling like "Air" as I flew up the stairs and back down again.

My conclusion is that I've come to realize that most men today have no heart. I mean yes, there is a muscle there with 4 chambers, ventricles, etc, etc... but that's not a heart. A heart is what most women have. Its nurturing, its fulfilling, its thoughtful, its strong. Just when its on its last beat, it takes a weak pause, then starts back up stronger than ever. Women have heart, and in today's world we have to depend on it a lot more than our ancestors did.

Me personally, I feel men have the hearts of mice..perhaps of Mice and Men would be an aptly title for this theory? On the other hand I have the heart of a beast. Similar to those monsters in the old horror movies that never die..that's me. I have the heart of a ghastly, grizzly beast, and I have to ascertain when to let that beast out, and when to retreat to the tiny mouse so I can get him to come out and play with me.

Why do I have to dim my light, my brilliance, my spark, in order to get the mouse to come out of his hiding place? Why can't he come out when its bright? Why is it then even after I've dimmed my shine, the mouse can only take from me? Mr. Mouse never does anything nice for me, never keeps his word, and doesn't even do what a mouse should do well.

Mice have no problem at all with coming out of their hiding places when they're hungry, thirsty, sniffing around behind me via text and Facebook chat trying to secure some cookies ("If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" was one of my favorite childhood books, now I know why). The minute I say I want something, the mouse retreats to his hole.

Can I tell you something? I hate mice. Always have, always will. I'm more into Lions, Tigers, and Bears....oh my.