I Am Not A Man

I AM NOT A MAN


by: Matthew Terry
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I am not a "man". Emphasis on the quotation marks.

I am male, yes. And no, this is not me admitting who I truly am inside. Although, I suppose it is me proclaiming something that I have known for a very long time. I am not a "man". At least not by majority's definition.

I don't do the strip club thing. I have been to strip clubs. I have outwardly enjoyed strip clubs. However, inside I have never really enjoyed strip clubs. The first time I patrionized a strip club a naked woman danced in front of me. No surprise. Awkwardness, but no surprise. Then ... another naked woman danced in front of me. Little less awkward. Then ... another naked woman danced in front of me. Less awkward. After that naked woman danced in front of me, another naked woman danced in front of me. By this point I'm just grooving to the music and wondering where my rum and coke is. Point being, I know that this woman, or that woman or the women that bookended those two women, are not looking to date me or even come home with me. Boiled down it's a form of entertainment. Ladies and gentlemen dancing for your enjoyment by literally shaking what God gave you.


I don't hunt. Maybe you don't need to be the definitive "man" to be a hunter, but I think it certainly adds to the enjoyment of the whole thing. Actually, I digress, I do like to hunt sometimes. I like to do the Elmer Fudd tiptoe through the woods carrying a .22 rifle, and find things to shoot type of hunting. But tree blinds or crouching down inside a bush, while staying completely silent and remaining 100% focused on the salt lick or crab apples you have left as lure, is in no way enjoyable to me. I lose focus five minutes in. I cannot sit still for a long period of time doing absolutely nothing but focusing on one single task. Although, I do enjoy fishing, which is odd. Then again, if I cast out my bobber and stare at it to the point of boredom, I can look around at other things and check on the bobber every once and a while. Heck, I can walk away and get something out of the car, cook some food, take a pee in the bushes (hopefully not on a hunter) and still come back and see if that bobber is still ... bobbing.

I don't own a pickup truck. Oh man, the pickup trucks. To supplement my income I umpire softball. There are ladies leagues, there are co-ed leagues and there are, of course, men's leagues. Of the three, my preference certainly goes Ladies, Co-Ed and then Men. The ladies are my favourite due to the fact that they generally just want to have more fun playing than caring who's winning and who's losing. That and they look alot better in ball pants. Although the women may disagree on that point, but that's to be expected. At the opposite end of the scale, the men's leagues are nothing but sausage casings of testosterone and pickup trucks. The need to win and win convincingly is first and foremost on all of their minds. Even if it plainly says in the league name "Fun League". And finishing up for the night is always trying to find my vehicle in what basically amounts to a Dodge Ram dealership. Folks, I drive an SUV and I have issues finding my vehicle in a forest of oversized half-tons, three quarter tons and whatever other designated weight those things come in. But I know they need to be heavy. I saw it with my own eyes when a player bought himself a new truck and was showing it to his "buddies" only to have them say "that small a** piece of s*** is not a truck. It's a matchbox toy." Apparently "My truck is bigger than your truck." is a game "men" like to play. I don't play that game, so I guess that's another check in the "You're Not A Man" tally.

So, in an effort for everyone to get to know me a little better, I'm not a "man". Sometimes I can adapt to my surroundings like the chameleon I can sometimes be, but it doesn't take long for the pride to sniff out the pretender that I am trying to be and shunning me from the herd. You'd think I'd be upset or feel inadequate by not being what I suppose I'm bred to be. To be honest, sometimes it does cross my mind. Then I remember I am how I am and I still go home to my sexy wife in my beautiful home and I think to myself "Who cares?"

Shin Kicker says take the Q-Tip out of your ear.