Spangler quirks

I'm secure enough in my masculinity to hold Karen's purse when we're shopping and she needs to use both hands when she's trying to buy blouses or shoes or whatever.  I man not look like the Marlboro Man, but I'm not Pee Wee Herman, either.  In fact, I think I used to look like a combination of Alfred E. Newman, Richie Cunningham and Howdy Doody, and I still do, just with grey highlights now.

But there's no doubt that I'm not your typical he-man.  I thought about this one day and was surprised at just how many things I don't do or have never done that are considered man-centric activities.  The things I don't do or haven't done aren't because I have effeminate tendencies.  They are things that either don't interest me or disgust me.  If that makes me less of a man, so be it.  But here's a partial list of stereotypical things that guys do that I've never done or don't have any interest in doing:

I've never been to a strip club.  Why?  I don't see the point.

I hate The Three Stooges.  I don't see the humor.

I've never smoked a cigar.  I love cigar smoke, but our Mother died from lung cancer brought on by forty years of smoking cigarettes.

I've never gone to Vegas for a guys' weekend.  The main reason I've never done this is that I've never had the opportunity.  The secondary reason I've never done it is because Vegas holds no interest for me.

I've never had a subscription to Playboy or Penthouse.  I've bought the magazine, but I'm too cheap and private to have it delivered to my house.  I am, in case anyone's wondering, blatantly heterosexual.

I've never ridden on a motorcycle.

I've never fixed a car beyond replacing wiper blades.  Sure, I replaced headlights...but I even did that wrong after watching a YouTube video on the subject.  This is probably causing my grandfather to spin in his grave, as he took apart and rebuilt a Model T when he was a teenager, he allegedly designed those contraptions that ferry cars on the backs of trucks or on trains.  I hope he's not too ashamed of me.

I was never in a frat.  In and of itself, that's not indicative of masculinity, but if you'd seen the frats that I did during college, you'd understand.

I was never much of a workout warrior.  I didn't feel the need to bulk up and preen among the women at the gym.  In that vein, I've never gotten cyclist's gear that makes it look like I'm trying out for the Tour de France.  That's for two reasons:  The first is they don't make the gear in my size and the second is that I think it's stupid.  I'm not going to be going fast enough to gain that infinitesimal aerodynamic advantage that only lycra can provide.

I don't have any tattoes or piercings.  I'm not a pirate.

I talk in complete sentences without grunting.  Call it a character flaw.

My penmanship is legible.  I remember a philosophy class I had in undergrad where I forgot to put my name on a paper.  The professor, a small man with a large rabbinical beard, returned all the papers and then announced that he had one that had been submitted without a name but appeared to be in feminine writing.  At the end of class I approached him, took a look at the paper and kindly told him that was my paper.  Since I was twice his size he hastened to apologize for his comment about the style of the writing.  I told him not to worry.  I should have told him to blame the nuns.

I'm not a huge fan of heavy metal music.  One would think with my hearing deficiency that would be the perfect genre for me, but there are very few heavy metal songs I appreciate.

I type with all ten digits.  I'm not a hunt-and-pecker.

I can't play poker.  I play chess.  And I don't trash talk or smoke cigars when I play chess.

I don't like Budweiser beer.  I'm not sure that's a barometer of masculinity, but I see guys drinking it at sporting events, so I assume it is.

In the same vein, I've never painted my face with my team's colors nor gone barechested at a sporting event in the middle of winter.  I haven't even considered it.

I never thought Farrah Fawcett or Christie Brinkley was very attractive.  To repeat, I am blatantly heterosexual.

I never went away for Spring Break.  Frankly, I couldn't afford it.

I shake hands like I was taught growing up.  I don't do elaborate or ethnic handshakes.  Call me a fuddy-duddy.

I've never raced a go-cart.  I don't fit in them.

I have no interest in bungee jumping.  Or parachuting for that matter.  But the idea of hang-gliding intrigues me.

I can cook passably but I'm not the greatest griller in the world.  With most guys it's the other way around.

I've never hunted.  But that's only for lack of opportunity.

I have no idea how to play craps or even why it's called craps.

I've never been to a stag party.  Again, lack of opportunity.

When Miami Vice hit I was out of the country, but even when I returned, I never once considered rolling up the sleeves of my sportscoat or wear stubble on my face as a fashion statement.

I never owned a Starter jacket.  When I heard that this was de rigeur at one point, I had to ask what a Starter jacket was.

Motorsports leave me cold. 

(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles