I’ve never been what you would call a man’s man. Yes, I know there’s no official definition for “man’s man,” but if there was one I’m positive it wouldn’t include examples such as, “Enjoys manicures, pedicures, long bubble baths and cries like a baby while watching YouTube videos of lions returning to their original owners.” If that were the case I’d be the manliest bastard you ever had the pleasure of sharing Sunday mimosas with.
My coworker Jenna and I often discuss my manly qualities, or lack thereof. Since she’s an old-school Jersey girl, she just shakes her head and gives me a look of disapproval when she hears me talk about amuse-bouches, my love of knee-high socks and how my wife is the griller in the family. This usually leads to me pointing out that there are many things I do which are traditionally attributed to being a man. Here is just a short list:
- I watch football. I also drink beer and yell obscenities like “sack that motherfucker!” while doing so.
- I drive during long trips and am severely directionally challenged.
- I think about sex 90% of the time.
- I take out the trash. (I forgot to do it last night, but I’m usually good about it.)
- I carry my wife’s luggage through the airport. I also open doors for women and let them enter elevators before me. (I don’t let them have my seat on the train unless they’re old, though. I gotta be hard on the hoes once in a while, right?)
- I get out of bed and investigate any suspicious noises during the night. (Does it really matter that my first reaction to my wife telling me she just heard something is to pretend I’m still asleep? I think not. )
- I get overly upset when someone cuts me off in traffic and threaten to “kick their fucking ass!”
- I kill insects that happen to make their way into our house. (OK, I usually just shoo them out the door, but still…)
Impressive list, huh? Regardless, I’ve never subscribed to all the antiquated ideas about what is manly. That John Wayne shit is for uncivilized bores. By eschewing all the stereotypes I’m able to be better than a “man’s man.” I can, and am, versatile!
For instance, I can spend Friday afternoon watching violent action movies, and then go see a chick flick with you that night and actually enjoy it. Saturday morning I can go with you to the spa for a 90-minute couple’s massage, and then have the guys over for poker night, during which I’ll drink straight scotch while discussing my sexual attraction to Lady Gaga. Sunday I can go have a testosterone freak-out at the football game, and then come home and thoughtfully look through your sewing patterns and help you pick out the one that best fits your personality.
All these things more than make up for the fact that I’m not necessarily good at fixing things, that I don’t like “roughing it” and that I use a wide assortment of Kiehl’s products. If not, what else would you have me do? Am I expected to start the fireplace by rubbing two sticks together while yelling “Fire! Fire!?” That sounds like a terrible waste of time. Besides, my wife makes a much better fire than I do.
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