Lowered Expectations

I've got to put a stop to this!

Between my daughter's school and home, there's a back road I used to take because it's like a quaint reminder of the country roads of my small-town childhood. Taking the freeway is a bit faster, but this stretch of winding road adds a little variety to my otherwise mundane life. You could ride the curves of this road and seldom see another car or person. There I could find a moment of solitude in the midst of the daily errands. Sometimes I'd sing at the top of my lungs, sometimes I'd cry. Sometimes I'd just think, or daydream.

Then, right around the time Todd and I parted ways, construction started. Suddenly my little private speedway became manned with... well, with men. I don't think I had ever really paid much attention to road construction workers. When we'd pass them on long family road trips to the Midwest, the kids would frequently wave, and sometimes they would wave back. In sweltering heat, I'd always try to smile their way and show a little appreciation for what they had to go through to make the path smooth for those of us enjoying the comfort of air conditioning, but then I'd be back to thinking about the kids and the road ahead, and a million other things.

This season in life was different, though. I had begun to see the light--to shake off the denial that had kept me tied to a man who was dragging me down like a sinking ship with his lack of ambition, chronic laziness and embarrassing work ethic. Suddenly these men in hard hats were hot, and I don't mean because they were standing out in the sun. They were hot because they were working. That turned me on. They were punching a time clock and earning a living, and quite possibly sharing it with a family. I know there are so many unknowns: They may be drunkards in their off hours. Some may be deadbeat dads who spend every penny on themselves or mistresses, while their kids' shoes are worn out and their wives or ex-wives juggle multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Some may live in their moms' basements and sit around in their underwear watching football and televised bowling tournaments. But for that moment, as I drove past them, all I could see was the fact that Todd was not there, that Todd would never do something like that--there was nothing in life worth the effort it took to be a diligent worker.

When they started narrowing that road to one lane and making drivers stop in the presence of these hot men in hard hats, I started taking the freeway. Not only did I not have the time to sit waiting for the opposing traffic to stop, I didn't have time to be thinking about men. After all, I had to be the man of the house.

Then, today, as I was about to merge onto the freeway, traffic slowed, and there, right outside my window was one single man in a hard hat, placing orange cones so he could fix a problem. Thankfully the window was up when I verbalized the word: "Hot!" 

Come on! I chided myself. You know nothing about this man other than the fact that he is at work!

Have my expectations really been lowered so much?

What does a "real" man look like?

Made me think of this: