I've said before, I'm not what you'd consider a man's man. I cried while reading part of the last Harry Potter book, I've written poems that were neither for English class nor involving anyone from Nantucket, and I don't know–nor care to know–about the in-field fly rule. I can do some good work around the house, I can hang drywall, sweat pipes, and I own multiple power tools. I'm fairly computer savvy (which has become less geeky and more manly in the past few years). I enjoy watching stuff blow-up. . . and on several occasions I have blown stuff up. I love women. . . you may never find a straighter man (not to say that you can't be gay and manly, but I have a healthy constant stream on testosterone coursing through my veins). I have chopped wood. I can get fairly banged or cut up and not freak out too much at the sight of my own blood. I can hold my liquor, though I am an affectionate not a violent drunk.
What I'm trying to say is, I may not be the manliest person in the world (and as I said before I definitely should not be trying to raise a boy), but I have gotten to a point where I can say I often feel pretty damned manly.
I ask you. . . can I pull off carrying a diaper bag, and still feel like a man?
1 comment:
Must you talk about your sexual orientation all the time!!!
< smile >
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