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Top Reasons why I’m not a Man’s Man
By Jeff | June 6, 2007
Okay, first let me go ahead and dispute the notion of any implication that I don’t think I’m a real man, or that I’m trying to get in touch with my feminine side, or even that I may be contemplating delving into any form of alternative lifestyle. Obviously, I realize that by writing this in the first place opens up some cliché ridicules; however, if we are all honest with ourselves, there are things about each of us that would not fall into the category of the so called “Man’s Man” (as I hold up my quote fingers which is hard to do while typing by the way.) I have to assume my desire for even attempting such a small essay arises from my thoughts of one day soon (hopefully) getting a book started. With that in mind, let the self-humiliation begin!
First and foremost, probably the most obvious reason I may not be considered a “Man’s Man,” is that I have never had a beer. Not even a sip has touched my lips. Most of you that really know me know this to be true or at the very least expect and believe this to be true. Well, it is. I do have some sense of pride instilled in me by being able to make that statement, but ultimately I don’t feel that it makes me better. I do feel a practical sense of achievement only due to the fact that I have probably saved money; however, judging the size of my collection of DVDs and video games, that money wasn’t really saved. It was just spent on something more material. Dont get me wrong; alcohol has not escaped me. I can drink a Malibu & Dr. Pepper or a Mike’s Hard Lemonade with the best of them. And a glass of wine with a good steak brings happiness and good tidings. For whatever reason, the smell of beer causes me to writhe in pain. I just want to punch my nose shut until it goes away. Its ridiculous, I know, but true nonetheless. I’ve even bartended, albeit only temporarily as part of my Key Manager training at Outback Steakhouse. I’m not sure if its an oxymoron or just hypocritical, but exactly how many bartenders do you know that hate the smell of beer, much less, have not even tasted one? Probably, just me, but to make the relative “big bucks,” (yeah, right) a man has to do what a man has to do.
Next, I know little about automobiles. I can change the oil, change a flat, and pay an arm and a leg to put gasoline in the tank. I can also change the time, but I don’t really include that in this discussion because it’s too similar to changing the time on a VCR or a microwave. Child’s play. I don’t really know why I dont know anything about them; well, other than the fact that I have never taken the time to learn about them. Case in point: a few years back after getting my car washed, I got suckered by a freakin’ car wash attendant (probably on some kind of commissions incentive) to have my engine flushed with something I’ve never heard of because it was running hot. Then he had me feel by popping the hood and running my hand above the engine. It was hot. Jeffry, you stupid dope, of course it was hot. All engines are hot when they are running. So, here I am spending more money at this car wash, waiting 30 minutes longer than I would have had to, all because for some odd reason I thought this overpaid car wash attendant had some magical engine thermometer built into his hand. Yeah, when it comes to cars, I’m that stupid. Idiot!
Also, I am actually considering taking advantage of my wife’s work-out weights, steps, and videos. Seriously, how manly would that really be? Unfortunately, with my schedule, I don’t see a point in the near future where I can be dedicated to visiting a local gym, or even the rec center at Texas Tech when I enroll again. I’m finding out that maybe all those years working in restaurants may have spoiled me. I could eat anything I wanted and due to the continual walking around back and forth, my conditioning could handle it. Not to mention, losing the weekly racquetball or basketball game, which no longer exist in my activities list. With my new job, I pretty much sit in an “Office Space” cubicle and sit in front of a computer talking to people eight hours a day. I’ve gone from a healthy 195 lbs. to a somewhat pudgy 219 (I weighed myself today.) Ridiculous. So here they lay, small weights suitable for aerobic exercise along with two stepping pedestals of different heights calling my name. What is a man to do? Well, maybe the ladies on the videos got it goin’ on.
Okay, now this section needs a disclaimer because on the surface it’s going to appear sexist, and it probably is. However, when I think of a “Man’s Man,” I think of a James Bond type personality. The kind of man men want to be and women want to be with. With that notion, let me expose something of a personal nature and say that I can count the women I’ve “known biblically” on two hands. Either way you look at this, I’m screwed (no pun intended well, actually to be truthful, the pun was intended.) Part of me is ashamed due to my religious beliefs, because obviously God instructs us to avoid fornication and enjoy the pleasures of sex with your lifelong partner in marriage. So, if that is one of your criteria for a “Man’s Man”, then I have obviously failed. On the other hand, if your general idea of a “Man’s Man” is similar to a James Bond personality then I have fallen short, oh, by a mere hundred or so. I mean, if most of us are honest, if we could get any woman in the world, we would definitely try to get every woman in the world. Nonetheless, the exact number is none of your business as I am not by any means trying to brag and I dont feel like getting into any kind of contest with anyone else. My wife is all I need now, and hopefully, I’m all the sissy man she needs.
Finally, while this last reason doesn’t directly impact my manhood, it does affect it. Right now, my pride and joy is my two-year old son. What “Man’s Man” wouldn’t want a son for his first-born? Unfortunately, he screams like a girl and every time my wife is painting her nails, he feels the need to be pretty too. Now I’m not a homophobe and I believe strongly in equal rights for everyone, but with no intended disrespect to our friends of the alternative lifestyle, a “Man’s Man” doesn’t produce a son to raise a daughter. All kidding aside, I realize that he is only three and that his voice will change when puberty strikes. After all, growing up, when I answered the telephone, people always thought I was my mother (which may be another reason I’m not a “Man’s Man” but that’s neither here nor there.) So, I have to assume time will fix the screaming like a girl disease. And maybe his fascination with nail colors is part of my artistic ability manifesting itself through him. Maybe.
Topics: manly |
December 5th, 2007 at 2:22 am
This had got to be the funniest personal post I’ve read in a while, if not ever!
. You’ve got to be a Man to admit that you’re not a ‘man’s man’. I hope you don’t mine, but this deserves a zoom.