Good Directions: What Kind of Man Are You?

Whoever said that men don’t ask for directions has never met my man. To him, there would be nothing worse than being embarrassed on a date, even after two long years together, by getting lost in our own city. This weekend’s trip to the Montgomery Inn Boathouse was a perfect example. Anyone who has driven there for a romantic evening on the river knows that it could be easy to get turned around trying to find Riverside Drive. But Justin, never one to be prideful, popped out the Droid, dropped it in my lap, and insisted I tell the phone to take us there itself. And it did. We even knew to adjust our reservation time when it warned us that we were still 22 minutes away. Not everyone is so willing to give in to a map, a cell phone, and a good dose of pride, but Justin leans toward the “GPS-er Obsessor” category.

The GPS-er Obsessor
This person puts on their GPS to head to the grocery store—the one they go to every single week. Just because it’s comforting to hear that pretty little voice, undoubtedly named “Cynthia” or “Gertrude,” that reassuringly goes “bing bong” when you make an oh-so familiar turn. Have no doubt, the GPS lover always knows exactly how many miles it is, down to the feet (200 and counting to the next turn). You may mock the GPS lover, laugh at them changing the language and saving their most referenced destination, but admit it—while you fumble around the city backroads, you’ll think of them, and you’ll remember. They will never. EVER. Be. Lost. And they may learn Mandarin in the process–at least enough to give a taxi driver directions.

The “I got it” Guy
This guy—men you know who you are and I don’t expect you to admit it—will never ask for directions…not from a human, not from a passenger who knows exactly where to go, and definitely not from a useless piece of technology. This is the guy who’ll tell you the GPS always takes you the worst possible route anyway. Followed quickly by, “But don’t worry. I got it.”

The Man of Tradition

Few and far between are the men of tradition. In their glove box, an impressive array of maps. In their back seat pouches? Atlases—from the last ten years, and at least ten countries. My question for you, men of tradition, is do you really stop to read those maps? Or are you just as guilty as the drive-and-texter? Sneaking in glances between turns? Gulping in the information, the mountain ranges and points of interest at every red light. If you really want to be a man, pull it on over and read to your heart’s content. Even if it’s on your iPad.