A teenage boy's labyrinth

A teenage boy’s awakening into the world of women may be one of the most confusing times of his life. Talking with several mothers over the weekend, a friend said how her 17-year-old son had broken up with his first girlfriend, the story of which she learned not through her son — for what 17-year-old boy would share such sensitive info with his own mother? — but through the mother of one of his friends.

It turned out that he had decided to break up with the girlfriend because, he said, “I didn’t realize that when you have a girlfriend you’re going to have to do only what she wants: go to places she picks; see movies she wants to see; eat in restaurants she likes.” 

His mother added that, one time, said girlfriend picked an expensive restaurant… so he ended up spending an entire month’s allowance on one dinner.  The poor boy had totally lost himself in the course of the relationship along with all his disposable income, which was spent on things only the girlfriend liked.

Of course, to a young man who is little more than a child — hardly out of his superhero pajamas, hardly over his X Box or his PSP, and definitely not over his Internet gaming attachment — relinquishing choices and opinions to a new, unfamiliar opponent such as a “girl” must seem like the fastest way to Loserville. Just imagine how many computer games one dinner bill at an expensive restaurant could buy.

My friend went on to say that his son’s friends’ mothers are now grateful to him because he, having been one of the first in his group to attain a girlfriend, had seared into their impressionable minds that the upkeep of a girlfriend can be a one-sided deal. The infinite wisdom of men (at whatever age) is baffling, really.

I have this nagging desire to sit this boy down, look him in the eye, and give him the straight dope: “Son, it’s all downhill from here. A woman’s every whim, whether it involves the choice of a movie or a restaurant, is what you will be begging to fulfill 10 years down the road — in addition to obtaining a certain piece of jewelry that will set you back a year’s worth of salary. But come to think of it, jewelry may be worth its price in terms of investment and timelessness. It’s shoes that will probably be the death of you. Men are not wired to comprehend a woman’s passion for shoes and the price tags that come with it, not to mention their unbelievably brief shelf life, which is never, ever due to wear and tear — that takes longer. I’m talking about the going-out-of-fashion kind of death for shoes. Three months’ salary is shelved — literally— once the fashion police say such and such type of shoe is now pronounced ‘last season.’ So enjoy the low-stakes game while you can.”

I ended up talking to a couple of 20-year-old boys about this girlfriend maintenance issue.  One of them asked me, “Tita, how much is a Prada bag?” 

I asked him why and he said, “Because my girlfriend’s bags are all like that. I was thinking of getting her one for her birthday.” 

I could have hugged him for being so sweet and thoughtful but I had to be bearer of bad news so I refrained. “In the neighborhood of P100,000.” I almost couldn’t get the words out. Those two boys gawked at me as though I had sprouted another head — a reptilian one with fangs and a forked tongue. 

“F***, man!” was what one of them managed to let out after several seconds. “For that sorry excuse of a bag that doesn’t even look nice? That s*** sack where she dumps her half-eaten Starbucks waffle and the leftover popcorn from the movie?”

“Yup,” I said.

“Girls are stupid.”

“I beg to disagree,” I very nicely informed him.

“Okay, Tita, sorry. I meant those bag makers are the stupid ones.”

“No to that one, too,” I said.  “Maybe you guys are the ones who need to rethink all of this since you’re the ones who get suckered into paying for them.”

“Well, if the chick looked like Megan Fox and I had the money and I have all the computer games I need and I already have that car of my dreams then I wouldn’t mind getting her one bag.”

“My point exactly,” I said with a Cheshire Cat smile.

“So why do girls do that, then? Like, ask for bags?”

“Because they can and because you give.”

“And why do men get suckered in, Tita?”

“Because you want something from us.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, you do — always.  Isn’t this why we’re having this conversation in the first place?”

The three of us broke into laughter. To lighten the boys’ mood I explained that all is not doom and gloom.  I said that all relationships are power-based and that one person’s ascendancy over the other has to be renegotiated on an almost daily basis.  It’s just that in couplehood the currency of most relationships is denominated in either cash or sex, if not both. And the person who holds what the other needs at any given time… rules.

“What about love?”  one of them asked me.

“Ask Tina Turner,” I answered, because I didn’t want to have to say that, yes, there’s that too, sometimes, in a perfect world.

“So, wait, Tita, enough of this riddle already.  I mean, how do we know which girl is what? Like, how do we pick a girlfriend, you know, in terms of her not liking such expensive stuff and asking for it?”

“Everybody likes expensive stuff; who doesn’t?”  I told him.  “The trick is to find a girl — well, eventually — who doesn’t badger you for such a purse, and who can afford to buy her own, so that when you do get her one, it becomes pure pleasure, not pressure.”

“Like some kind of maze…. So where do we find girls like that?”

I said, shrugging my shoulders, “That’s the problem.”

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Thank you for your letters. You may reach me at cecilelilles@yahoo.com.