Confessions of a Guy


Hello. I am a guy. As such I celebrate my ability to use the same, increasingly dull razor for three months because I can’t remember to buy a new one. Similarly, each time I shower I’ll happily add water to a nearly-empty bottle of shampoo until the last individual shampoo molecule is gone. I study the layout of open/occupied urinals with the intensity of a chess grandmaster.

When my car breaks down, I open the hood and look inside, even though I know nothing about modern vehicles and couldn’t possibly fix anything I might find therin. On the other hand I have jumper cables and I change my wiper blades when they begin to fail, rather than waiting until I can no longer see through the windshield once it starts raining. This puts me one up on some members of another gender I could name.

At what point exactly did this guy lose the ability to determine that he was in fact an asshole?

At what age did this guy lose the ability to realize that he was an asshole?

I don’t watch baseball often but still have a very strong opinion about the designated hitter rule. (It is evil and should be abolished.) I pick my fantasy football team based upon the suggestions of pundits whose records I haven’t bothered to check. Not that it matters: having won my first foray into fantasy football I will never win again in my life.

When interacting with younger attractive female women of the opposite sex I like to think I’m roguish rather than, say, creepy.  I have no problem with women in power. (You can thank the show “Xena, Warrior Princess” for this outlook.)

I will drive in the fast lane for the rest of my life, even though as I age I will go slower and slower. Also, I shall start wearing a hat while driving. Over time my waistband will mysteriously rise until it eventually reaches my armpits. I will become increasingly less tolerant of young men whose pants are going in the opposite direction and at some point I shall tell complete strangers that we don’t need to see their goddamned underwear, what are you thinking?

TV was far better when I was a kid – which is absurd, because there was no cable when I was a kid and we had 5 channels, one of which was PBS. I’m not frightened of new technology except that the damned buttons just seem to be getting smaller and smaller and the text more illegible, what’s up with that? People should speak up too. Everybody mumbles so goddamned much these days.

I like naps. A lot. It’s hard to think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Having survived a run-in with cancer, I’m hoping that whatever’s supposed to kill me will be cured by the time I’m supposed to die from it, in which case I might actually live to see all that global warming that I’m sure is coming even though the science is way beyond me. I’m keeping a list of you deniers so I can say “I told you so.” I’m looking forward to it – which is wrong on many levels, but there it is.

I love my wife, who I suspect is too good for me. I enjoy new things and am not afraid of change. In short, somewhat to my surprise I’m still enjoying life. I wish you well, except maybe for those kids with the pants on the ground.

Aw what the hell: them too.

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2 Responses to “Confessions of a Guy”

  1. Bill Cosby Says:

    OK, but I don’t understand why you’re using the future tense (“I WILL drive in the fast lane but WILL go slower and slower….”). Your pants are well over your belly button already, you know.

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