Getting in Touch

I’ve come to realize that maybe I’m not the manliest man in the world. Of course, by definition there’s only one of those guys, and he’s probably out hunting alligators, or pterodactyls, or giant aliens (think Chuck Norris crossed with MacGyver a la Jeff Goldblum’s Brundlefly).  So, while I’d love to judge myself against this alpha male juggernaut, I’ll base my analysis on more every day, run-of-the-mill, standards. 

Dandruff used to make Viagra

Here’s how I know I’m letting my Y-chromosome down:

Mowing:  I don’t mind mowing (although I’d much rather watch someone else do it).  My problem is that I can’t mow a straight line.  I’ve never been able to.  Sure, I eventually get the entire yard done.  But, instead of it looking like a pro baseball stadium with perfectly parallel lines… my yard looks like a seismograph reading after a tsunami warning. 

Hand shake:  I’ve been shaking hands for over 30 years.  To this day, there’s still about a 60% chance I’ll end up in the submissive… he’s only got hold of my fingers… grip.  It’s so humiliating.  And the best part is… there’s nothing I can do about it except spend the remainder of the meeting talking about how much I scored with the babes in college (you haven’t even shaken my hand and you know that’s a lie).  During the off chance that I actually get a good grip, my hand is usually crushed by the other party.   Did I miss a class on that in high school?  Seriously?

Kneel before Zod

Hunting:  I don’t hunt.  That’s not because I’m against it or anything.  It’s just something I’ve never done.  Parts of it sound like fun, but I’m old and lazy now and don’t have time for a hobby.  I was recently asked by another dad at my son’s soccer practice if I hunted.  I said “no”.  The look of pity/disgust he gave me was similar to the one I received from the "winners" after my one and only loss at strip poker.

These things don’t help either:

Sewing:  Yes… my wife bought me a sewing machine for Christmas a couple of years ago.  It was on my list.  Let’s just drop it.

Toys:  I collect toys.  Go ahead, you can call them dolls.  Those of us in the know understand that they’re really action figures.

So, while there may not be one giant “smoking gun” to identify me as “less than manly” to the casual observer, there are plenty of magic bullets strewn about to raise suspicions.  Oh well.  I’ll get over it.  Besides… they’re doing the battle rounds on The Voice tonight.  That and some ice cream usually cheers me up.