to the max!
by kelle olwyler

I'm 53 and I love men.

After so many years, I know—and don’t know—a lot about them. I grew up in an older Mexico when “hombre” stood for a complex concept linked with honor, chivalry, daring, protection—all masking a subjugation of women. I moved to the US when I was sixteen and found that being a “man” north of the border meant variations on the same thing. You’d think I’d grow up cynical, but the men who came into my life taught me and shared with me, helped to make me who I am today.

It started with my father. He danced with me from the day I was born, and we never stopped until the day he died. We danced laughter, love and no-secrets between us, even in the hardest of times.

I was a tomboy in a world that kept little girls in skirts and pinafores, learning what their mothers had before them. I wore jeans and hightops, did trick horseback riding, could work a bull whip and throw a knife spot-on. I was convinced I’d grow up to be the next Zorro. I defied tradition with a smile, and in that world controlled by men, they just shook their heads, bemused, and smiled indulgently back at me. It defied logic, but I was well-loved by the townsmen, even when I caused them to lift their eyes to the sky, cross themselves and mumble prayers to the saints.
For 18 years, the nature of my business has given me a 95% male client base. It has also allowed me to see the deepest and truest parts of these men, to visit with their most heroic and honorable selves. I count myself fortunate and blessed by this ongoing experience.

I’ve had male friends from the time I was four. They range from cowboys to doctors, from kindergarten teachers to linemen, from CEO’s to athletes, from lawyers to pilots; they are Christian and Jewish, Hindu and Buddhist, Kashaya Pomo and Atheist (among other things); they are straight and gay; they are from many parts of the world, and many beautiful colors.

All of them have affected me, influenced me, shared with me what matters to them, what breaks their hearts, what makes them laugh, what brings out their courage and what scares them in the night. They are each unique; they are each special. I soaked it up and through a number of mistakes and gentle admonishments, learned that the stereotypes I held about men mostly applied when I didn’t slow down long enough to look past a man’s face into his heart.

I’m not saying that my friends have evaded all the trappings that come with being a man raised in this world. What impresses me is that they have come through regardless! Saddled with the culturally imposed image of “knight in shining armor”, a man has a lot to live up to from the time he’s about 12. Ya had’ta look good, sound good, be hip for whatever your era was; you had to know the score, drive, compete; you had to succeed, provide, take care of, improvisationally role play (good son, good husband, good father, good worker), and know it all. . . no expectations there! And somehow, they asked themselves, “What is THIS all about?!” and started saying, “No, I’m not going to do it that way!” They fought their private battles, winning some and losing some. They got wounded. They got scarred. They healed. They learned how to trust. Heck, they helped me learn how to trust!

I’ve been in love four times and married twice. It was when I was 34 that my life changed drastically because of “a man.” Enter Max Poppers. The first time I met him, we stood in a room full of people sweating at nautilus machines, and the room disappeared. We talked for half an hour, oblivious to the world around us. By our second date, we were in love . . . well let’s be honest: we never left each other’s side from that point on (love at second sight).

If I could have made a list of the perfect man for me, he would be it. He loves me unconditionally. He makes me roar with laughter ‘til I breathless and aching—the good kind of ache. He challenges me all the time, about what I’m thinking, feeling, avoiding, hiding. He was the one who helped me understand what the glass ceiling looks and feels like . . . I was so used to it, I didn’t even recognize the thump! when I hit it! He never lets me get away with something that wants to come out in the open and isn’t (he can always tell). He believes in me with such passion that I am in awe of him—the good kind of awe.

He taught me what power looks like wrapped in gentleness, and what rage looks like when it’s not dangerous. He’s led the way and let go to be led, but most of the time we walk side by side. I learned about partnership in a way I don’t think I could have with anyone else. My respect and admiration for him has grown exponentially over the years. We’ve learned what our fair fighting rules are and learned to fight, healthy and strong. We have a delicate balance of give, take and share that has been able to withstand the hurricanes of life we encountered in our 19 years together.

All my men friends (and there are many) nod their heads in approval when they meet him. They, and my women friends, all fall in love with him, too. He’s not self-centered enough know that women watch him all the time, and envy me him. How he loves and shows it, how he sets people at ease, how sincere he is, how wise he is, how gorgeous he is on so many levels. He says he adores me and I believe him, ‘cause I adore him. I watch him when he’s not looking and my stomach still flips and jumps around and my heart still melts into my toes. I try to use words to describe who I experience him to be and how I feel about him, but the world hasn’t made those sounds yet.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not what the little girl fairly tales told me was perfection. It’s oh, so much better! Can blessings get any greater than that?

Kelle Olwyler is a management consultant who helps small, medium and large companies save time, effort and money when implementing change. She also facilitates large group process for businesses and communities who are facing a new future and need to achieve clarity and unity about the best direction to take and how to move forward. [828-254-8049; kelbergan.com]