Much ado about macho

By Ruhanie Perera and Laila Nasry

Is flexing their muscles and walking around with the 'I'm the man' attitude their ultimate purpose on earth or should they cook, sew and be able to cry when things get too much? Do we want them to be macho...?

Kenny (name changed)(23):

Sadly some guys want to be macho because they believe that's what is expected of them. It's all to do with stereotypes and being sexist. The fact that guys are not supposed to cry because it's sissy. It's o.k. for guys to cry, It's just human. This macho image is really a fake. Inside they are whimps. 

What guys do to get macho is an endless list. They walk like they've got biceps and the best body. They talk big. Talking the talk is easy, but when it comes to walking the talk it's different. Guys also think having one hand stretched towards the steering wheel, driving in this cool way turns women on. But I think it doesn't.

Guys should be open and unafraid to show emotion. They just build a wall around themselves but emotionally they are unstable. Girls on the other hand, what with childbirth and all, are far stronger emotionally. 

Asela (name changed) (20): 

Being macho is all about keeping an image. It is associated with being masculine and face it, all girls want a masculine guy. There is no real criterion to measure how macho a guy is - you've just got to have the attitude. Crying is not acceptable and you've got to be into sports . 

If you are into drama and singing, you are basically considered a poof. That's all crap though - I'm not a macho believer and I think if we do know how to cook, sew and wash clothes that does not make us less masculine. It just makes us more useful. 

Shanaka Perera (21): 

Some act macho and others don't. The ones who do - it's just to show off. They try to act macho by talking big and doing all this supposedly brave, manly acts. For the ones who don't it doesn't mean they are not macho. It's just that they know they are macho but rather not show off.

When it comes to crying, I think it's okay because it's only natural. But I don't think guys should cry often because that would look like they can't handle a situation. But when it comes to other stuff like cooking etc., which is considered sissy, macho or no macho it's important for guys to know how.

Nalini (name changed):

Society expects guys to be manly. So guys - those who haven't quite figured out what is expected of them act macho. It's basically an act to impress people. Some go to extremes, especially when it comes to clothes and when they are in groups they pass comments.

I feel if a guy cries once in a while that makes him more human - definitely not less of a man. Of course, they shouldn't cry all the time, that would get annoying even in the case of girls. 

Niluka (name changed):

Men need to have this macho image because over the ages they have acquired the notion that being macho is expected of them. I don't expect my man to be macho, I'd just want him to be himself and that should be masculine. 

If a guy was totally into needlework I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with him! He has to be able to cook though, that's a No.1 requirement. I need home cooked food and I can't cook! 

A guy can be into the arts instead of sports and not be considered a poof - I think the cradle of masculinity was in Greece and everyone there was into the arts.

Niroshini Nayagam (22): 

Being macho depends on the age. As guys get older they tend to get more mature and act in a less macho fashion. The macho types, whether young or old act so because they are insecure and want to be known as a whole and not by their individual characteristics. 

Guys don't show emotions, don't act giddy because they believe it's feminine. And by doing so the masculine ego will be suppressed. 

There are different macho levels. Some feel going clubbing, wearing their hair long, smoking and drinking make them macho. Others try to be macho physically and get obsessed by fitness. Others on a more educated level try to act the intellectual and thereby macho. 

Patricia, my love!

By Aditha Dissanayake

I rubbed my unshaven rough cheeks against her neck. She snuggled up to me and kept her head on my chest. We stayed like that till the clock struck seven. Then, reluctantly, I got up to go to work. 

Patricia gazed at me from the bed as I changed. I told her I hoped she would not miss me while I was away. I would leave the TV and the radio on. She could help herself to the food in the kitchen. In fact everything in the flat was hers. "Only don't meddle around in Neil's room," I warned. (Neil was the mate with whom I shared the apartment, who was away at the time.) Then with an affectionate kiss on her forehead I was off.

I couldn't get Patricia off my mind throughout the day at office. I wondered what she would be doing in my absence. Only four days were left for us to be together like this. On Sunday, her family would be returning from their pilgrimage to Dambadiva, and Patricia would leave me. Lord alone knew when we would meet again. But one good point was that Neil was away. I had talked about Patricia to Neil, but they had never met, and knowing Neil, he would not have taken all too kindly to this arrangement.

Luckily by the time Neil returned from his business trip, Patricia would be with her family and I could remove all traces of her presence in the flat. Neil need never know.

Needless to say Patricia had changed my life. It was a joy now to go home after work. I would stop at a supermarket to buy a packet of cheese or biscuits, for I knew she liked to have a snack in the evenings. One day, on impulse I even bought her a bunch of flowers. I could see the girls behind the counter snigger at me. I have been frequenting this particular supermarket for three years now and was sure they knew something about me. They knew I was a bachelor, and the flowers would have given them enough to chat about for a week. 

To my surprise, Patricia didn't like my carnations, roses and cyprus leaves. She didn't go "gaga" over them the way the fair sex is supposed to. She merely smelled the flowers and pushed them back towards me. I realized there was a lot I had to learn about the female species.

After we had our tea, we would have a shower. Though I liked to have had my bath on my own, Patricia insisted we have it together. I had to give in. Then we'd sit in front of the TV, me in my chair, and Patricia in Neil's rickety old armchair, and I'd tell her about my day in office. We would have dinner at eight and turn in for the night.

Now Patricia sat beside me, in my Austin Cambridge as I took her home. Her eyes were turned towards me and her face bore the look of someone whose heart had been crushed. "Think of the lovely time we had together. Perhaps someday," I tried to console her. But I knew no words could ease the pain.I opened the gate to let her in. Her family had come back. I watched as six-year-old Ruki came running towards her, his arms spread wide, shouting, "Patty, Patty, Patty". Patricia ran up to him, wagging her tail.

I got back into the car and started the engine. At the sound of the engine, she turned her head and stared at me once again with those dark deep eyes. 

I dreaded going home. The flat would be empty without Patricia to greet me at the door.

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