A couple of weeks ago, as I was outside sharing some college drinking stories with a couple of the fellas at a party, the hostess was apparently describing me to those ladies that hadn't gotten to know me yet. Her description? "Frank? Well, you know, he's 'one of the girls...'"
Thankfully, my wife was there to defend my man-honor, and quickly refuted what I can only characterize must have been a term of endearment. At least that's how I'm taking it. When she told me the story, my blood went cold. I can't imagine where anyone could possibly get the idea that I am anything other than a 100%, unadulterated, testosterone-laden, hunk o' man. I mean, c'mon. Fast cars? I drive a Murano. Kinda close...sort of. Movies where guns shoot and things blow up? Aw, yeah. I'm jonesing to see "Act of Valor." Into sports? You betcha. I shot an 88 once in golf. Hit a three pointer in a work league basketball game. Caught a TD pass in city league football.
That should make me a poster child for manliness.....right?
I had to think for a moment. When and how did I send the impression that I have anything other than caveman like instincts and tendencies? Then it dawned on me. The "aha" moment where it all made sense....environment. I am constantly surrounded by women, both at home and work. Now, there are worse things that can happen to a guy, I suppose. But apparently, the estrogen-rich environment in which I find myself 24 hours a day has taken its toll on my man-rep. To wit: the pink and purple shirts. Madonna's "Immaculate Collection" CD. A Knight of the Pink Garter membership in the Phi Mu sorority. Playing Barbies with the three year old. So, yeah, I can see how that might lead someone to wonder if my Y chromosone has lost its way.
So, while I work on finding that balance between showing just the right amount of chest hair and allowing my more sensitive side to flourish, I guess I'll just let folks think what they will. Because, at the end of the day, if my portrayal of a "real man" ultimately influences the kind of guy my girls look for when I allow them to start dating thirty years from now, that may not necessarily be a bad thing.
