Men

by Ivan Saldarriaga

What makes up a man?

Is it his stern resolve?

That chiseled-feature attitude we ascribe to our super heroes?

“Gee Mister, doesn’t that hurt, the bullet went through your arm?”

“It’s merely a flesh wound, kid, I can’t even feel it.”

That cold, calculating business demeanor?

“Don’t you feel any remorse in sending ‘em boys out to die, General?”

“No, dammit. We’re in the middle of a god damn war.”

Or is it that sophisticated, debonair aura?

“Got a light?”

“For you, darling, I’ve got a lot more than just a light.”

Do our men ever get a break from their routine?

Can our super heroes ever say,

“Shit, the pain’s unbearable!”

Can our leaders ever say,

“I don’t want to send them. I can’t send another one. Just can’t. I mean, I just can’t”

Does our suave gentleman ever get to say:

“Uh…uh…you sure do...um…look nice tonight…uh, ma’am.”

And if they ever do, what do they lose? Do we still consider them men? Would we even want to be like them anymore?

Just what makes up a man anyway?