Understanding Men, Part One

WARNING!

This post contains sarcasm! Reader discretion is advised.

Although it is improbable that any woman is capable of truly understanding men, just as we guys don’t have a clue what’s up with you chicks, this exposé will attempt to help the average woman get a peek inside the minds of men. Long-held secret recesses of the male psyche will be revealed at last to enquiring female minds. I cannot plumb all the depths of what makes a man a man, due to limited space, but like a fig leaf, I’ll try to cover the gist of it.

There are so many stereotypes of people, men included, it becomes akin to herding cats to even try to generalize them. But there are a few things about men that are pretty universal. I’ll try to keep it simple, if not concise.

And I don’t mean anything insulting about keeping it simple, just because it’s aimed at a mostly female audience. I’ve told you before, I’m a male feminist. I know women are fully capable of understanding complex subjects, and even some “long” words (like penis), or slang jargon (like “Old One-Eye”),or foreign words (like oui oui) so spare me the lectures. By “keeping it simple,” I mean that because men are so complex, I don’t think I can explain everything in laywoman’s terms. But I’ll try.

“Laywoman.” That word makes me snicker!

Lesson One : “Why do men stand up to pee?”

The obvious answer, “Because we can,” is not necessarily the real deal for most men. Given the choice to sit or stand in nearly every aspect of our daily functioning (work, watching TV, commuting), we almost universally choose to sit. Why would men continue the tradition of standing to urinate when they could just as easily drop trou and have a seat?

Oh sure, there’s the relative ease of unzipping the fly and fishing out the penis through the maze of the imbecilic fly designs on most briefs (and what about fly-less undies?), then leaning on one hand against the wall over the top of the toilet or urinal to steady yourself and get into aiming position. There’s even a dark spot on the wall to show us where to put our hand.

And of course there’s the added bonus of aiming the stream at bubble formations in the bowl. A guy can use his stream to “clean” the inside of the bowl like he’d use a garden hose to wash off the patio, or like a video game laser beam (I’m thinking Asteroids) to break up clusters of bubbles, or use the force of the water to create little bubble islands and then destroy them like a tsunami.

Just imagine the fun we have when someone leaves a soggy cigarette butt floating in the water! The first thing is to try to split the tobacco part off from the filter part. Then you focus on making the paper around the tobacco split or shatter, sending little remnants of tobacco and paper debris spinning in the currents created by the force of this major inundation! It’s like playing Battleship!

The worst part of standing to relieve oneself is the dreaded dribble. Especially as men get older, the old tsunami is more like a leaky kitchen faucet at times. Without the pressure to create thrust, the stream becomes more like a waterfall, often spilling right on the thighs. It’s bad enough having a wet spot on your Dockers, you’ve got to worry about, you know… the odor. Ick.

You then have two options: stay in the bathroom wiping and dabbing with paper towels to soak it up, then blowing on it till it dries; or you can wash your hands and splash some water around to make it look like the faucet overspray did it. You come out of the john with paper towels in hand, wiping at your sleeves and trousers while muttering about too much water pressure in there.

And let’s not even give more than a passing mention to how often men can manage to completely miss the porcelain. Using the garden hose metaphor again, it is sometimes as if a high-pressure hose has a jet spray nozzle attached, with nobody in control of it. I think you get the picture.

But really, why stand when you can sit? Personally, I do both. I find that I usually stand at work, and sit at home. This is in part because I know I’m going to have some stray drops if I stand, so at home I sit. It’s a hygiene decision. At work I usually stand to avoid contact with the community bowl. Again, hygiene. Besides, if I drop my pants at work, I risk them touching the floor, where there is still evidence that another man used the bowl from a standing position prior to my visit.

With all this logic supporting both methods, I can only conclude that my system is the best.  But this doesn’t answer the more general question I first posed.

The main reason men stand to pee: they think they’re supposed to, because they were trained from childhood for it.

And besides, girls sit to pee. That’s pretty much it.

This concludes Lesson One.

Lesson Two: “Why do men think it’s OK to cheat on their mates, but not vice versa?”

Hey, that’s not true. That’s a loaded question, and I resent it!

The reality lies in the distinction between the two primary genres of adult males: Gentlemen and Barbarians.

A third genre is Real Men, but we are a small minority. Some people call us “whipped,” but we don’t care. Real Men aren’t afraid to cry, nor even to watch chick flicks. We believe in equality of the sexes, so we wouldn’t hesitate to hide behind a skirt when confronted by trouble or a bar tab. Hey, fair is fair!

A Gentleman would never dream of cheating on his mate, any more than she would do unto him. But if he ever catches her, all bets are off! In fact, invoking the Bush Doctrine, if he even suspects or has heard unsubstantiated reports that she might be thinking of cheating on him, or maybe looked a little too long at that guy jogging down the street, even Gentlemen have been known to make pre-emptive strikes. Once that door is opened, he can declare himself “not bound” by all prior treaties and agreements, naturally.

As for Barbarians, and you know who they are, what do you expect from a Barbarian? Cuddling over chamomile tea while watching “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood?” He’s a Barbarian, fer christ sakes. He could be receiving passionate fellatio and suddenly propose you invite your girlfriend to join you for a threesome someday. He might intend to stop for some take-home dinner after work, and end up shacked up for a couple of days with some bar floozy he’s never met before. He doesn’t care. It’s all snatch to him.

The reason Barbarians seem to have no self-control over their libidos is easily understood by psychology. Barbarians are all Id and no Superego. They lack a conscience; or more accurately, their conscience is there, but it’s pretty much a vestigial organ like the appendix. They have no problem with justifying their multi-partner activities, because they feel no need to justify it. Dey’re da man!

The reason Barbarians are totally intolerant of their mates cheating with other men is obvious to them. A real no-brainer. Because, she belongs to him! Any guy messing with his stuff is cruising for a bruising anyway, but when his stuff messes with other dudes, it’s “No More Mr. Nice Guy.” She’s damaged goods, tainted for life. She’s a whore, no longer worthy of him. She’s “The Enemy” now.

Barbarians have no concept of a double standard, obviously.

Back to the Gentlemen: A true Gentleman (or a Real Man) would never cheat on his mate, and it’s unlikely his mate would either, if they are a strong couple. But if she did cheat on her Gentleman, he’d be crushed by the betrayal of their bond of trust. Some would obsess about her body having been used as a receptacle for another man’s lust. Some may feel the sacred vault has been desecrated and is no longer a Holy Place.

Real Men would just have recurring crying jags and would never get over it. Pitiful whipped wimps.

By contrast, if a Gentleman slips and lets the Barbarian inside him out for a little air, and if he does fudge the rules a bit and have a little something on the side, all he has to do is use a condom and afterward wash his Willie in the sink. There! All good as new!

But of course the Gentleman will feel guilty about giving into his impulsive urge for some “strange,” so he’ll buy his mate some flowers, or maybe a new car. That should square things up nicely.

Conclusion to Lesson Two: What you don’t know won’t hurt you. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Hell, it works great for the Armed Forces! [snark]

In Lesson Three, I’ll tackle the ticklish subject of why so many men are homophobic. Stay tuned!