Geez, I’m Glad I’m a Guy…
I’m a guy. I’ve always been a guy. I came into this world that way. And there’s a darned good chance I’ll leave configured just as I am now - as a male Homo sapiens. No, I guess there’s nothing wrong with being a female. It’s just that they have so much more going on. More things to think about. More things to occupy their time. Things that, well… are so… female…
Now admittedly, I do have sort of a double advantage over most of the females I’ve been around. Not only am I a guy, I’m an older, independent, don’t-give-a-fat-rat’s-ass-what-anybody-thinks-about-me guy. I have no corporate ladders to climb, no social responsibilities, no one to impress other than the dog – and the only thing he worries about is whether there is food in his bowl and the obnoxious squirrel in a nearby tree. I am the least of his worries.
My life is easy as a guy. As a guy, I don’t have to be concerned about:
1. Wearing clothes that match. If I can reach it, I will wear it. The clothes on the top of the pile in the drawer or nearest to me on the hanger in the closet get worn. I generally have no idea of what exists beyond the first four or five items in either place. I don’t really care. And yeah, sometimes my bride does the “shirt shuffle” for me. I would say she does it to help more evenly wear (as in “out”) my items of clothing but I have a sneaky suspicion that she does it because she is going to scream if she sees me in that same damned shirt again this week. Just a hunch…
2. Shoes. I never have to think about the style or color of shoes I’m wearing – or if they are appropriate for the season, event, activity, mode of transportation or day of the week. I have three pair of shoes – and one pair of moccasin-type slippers. One pair of shoes is for working in the yard. One pair is for wearing to the store and social activities. I can’t find the other pair. I don’t care.
3. What I have or have not shaved. I don’t have to worry about my pits, my legs or any more sensitive places that I might be growing fur. I can be fuzzy. I am fuzzy. I like it. Yes, I do trim my beard from time to time but that’s only because I want to. My dog wouldn’t care.
4. My hair-do and whether my hair-dresser can work me in this Friday. I have had the same hair style for somewhere around the past eleven years. And it has been exactly that long since I have had a hair cut. There is no reason to bother with it. My hair follicles are slacking off in their advancing years. Some have retired, some have quit working altogether. Whatever hair is still produced can be easily held in position with an elastic thingy if I wish. Most of the time I do so wish. It helps keep the dangly strands from becoming a part of my sandwich.
5. My eyebrows. From a guy’s perspective (mine anyway), having to think about eyebrows – their shape, length, color, symmetry and any “misplaced” tiny hairs – is about as meaningful as pondering the effect of a rain drop on an elephant’s back. It’s just not worth doing. I have eyebrows. They’re there – right above my eyes. Good enough…
6. Wrinkles. Humans get wrinkles. The older we get, the more wrinkles we have. It’s part of the normal aging process. As a guy, I don’t care. I have absolutely no need to check my wrinkles daily, count them, smooth them out, hide them, stretch them, fill in the creases – or do anything to remove or mask the fact that I am no longer a smooth-skinned twenty-year-old. I have wrinkles – and besides that my skin is saggy. I’m old and I don’t care. And my dog doesn’t care either.
7. My nails. I don’t have to be concerned about their length, shape, thickness, texture, little notches or other “imperfections” that may appear from time to time. I have fingernails and toenails to help protect my appendages during lapses in coordination – and to help me pick up small objects. They grow and they get dirty. When I remember, I cut them and clean them. Simple as that.
8. Straps. Of any kind. I don’t have to worry about whether they’re too tight, or too loose, or worn or broken. Nothing I wear has straps. Nothing I carry has straps. No straps. It makes life easier.
9. Things breaking. It doesn’t make any difference what kind of thing. Anything. If something breaks, I’ll fix it. If I can’t fix it, I’ll find someone who can. If I can’t do that – or if it’s not worth messing with – I’ll throw it away. And no, I don’t care if it did belong to great aunt Martha and that it was my mother’s favorite doohickey. If it’s broken, it’s trash. No guilt, no tears, no nothing. Back to the game…
10. How my home (house, apartment, etc.) is decorated. As a guy, I’m not the least bit concerned about the color of the walls, the type of flooring, the color and texture of the drapes and curtains, the pictures, lamps, couches, chairs, vases, doodads – or whether anything matches anything else. I wouldn’t know anyway. If I can sit on it, sleep on it, set something on it, read with the light from it or enjoy looking at it, it’s good enough. I’m sure the dog thinks so too – especially when it comes to the sleeping part.
11. How long the line is for the restroom. To be quite honest, most of the time we guys don’t even need a restroom. Any location on the planet where we stand only a slim chance of being arrested for doing what we need to do will work just fine, thank you. I like it too, that we guys have the ability to not only relieve our bladder pressure but at the same time we can be creative and make little designs, write our name or even try to achieve a personal best for distance. Yes, I know, we are easily amused but it sure beats waiting in that damned long line!
12. And… I never have to be bothered by other guys staring at my chest instead of looking me in the eye when we’re talking. And yes, I would definitely know what they were thinking. And yes, life is fun…
Geez, I’m glad I’m a guy!
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