Proud of My Manhood

I’m proud to be a man. I think it’s fun to do manly things like drinking beer and playing shirtless man pong. It’s important for a man to know what makes him different from a woman and to embrace these differences.

I’m not saying men are better than women at everything (though some may argue that there is substantial evidence to make such a claim); I think it’s equally important for women to embrace womanhood and be proud of their sex. There are many things I enjoy doing that women just don’t understand. The opposite is also true. For example, I have no idea how women can enjoy watching the WNBA. Or why they seem naturally fit to cook, clean and bear children. It boggles the mind.

Conversely, there are many things that I and my fellow men enjoy doing that may seem quite odd to our female counterparts. Like mooning each other, boxing, and owning tools we have no intention of using. Many times in my life, when I question whether or not my actions and decisions are sane and necessary, I simply need to ask: “What would man do?” Look where it has led me today.

This leads me to the point. Before I was united in holy matrimony, I was forced to fend for myself. Like most men in this situation, I survived through copious amounts of Ramen noodles, oatmeal, and visits home to my mother. Clothes would go unwashed for a while, and I figured this was just because I was a man.

When I got married, I discovered the joy of baked goods, sparkling bathrooms, and clean underwear. Then something very odd started happening once every two weeks or so. The sheets in our bed were being changed. What? This is a practice I had never heard of before. I thought sheets were changed when you moved. To my credit, I would always make sure I showered right before bed, in order to keep my sheets as clean as possible. And every six months or so, if the smell got bad enough, I think I may have changed them. No, that’s not true. I never did this on a regular basis.

So then I wondered, is this normal for a man? What if other men actually change their sheets? Does that mean they are gay, or I’m a disgusting slob? My understanding of the universe has been shattered. I am a freak. Do other men still pick their noses? Revel in the stench of their own flatulence? Measure their fitness level by standing straight and looking down to make sure their gut doesn’t obscure the line of vision to their manhood feet? Good thing I've already miraculously found a wife.