My "Little" Caveman

OK - first let me clarify -- my "little" caveman is not actually little. I have to get that out there right away because we know for guys size IS important. Of course, again, I speak for only 90% of the male population and the other 10% that say size isn't important are the guys with small ones. Guys with sufficiently sized tools acknowledge that size matters. So of course, I say, size matters. Why the topic of male genitalia? I am writing this in reply to a posting by my favorite blogger -- "The Madam" -- wherein she movingly describes her occasional desire to have a penis instead of a vagina.

You can find her blog at: http://madamovarypart2.blogspot.com/

OK, first, who wouldn't make that trade!!! Please, to have a hole between my legs that inflicts horrible cramps & bleeds for at least 1/4 to 1/3 of every month and that needs special & costly equipment and medicines to minimize these monthly eruptions is akin to having a small angry volcano in your pants. Mount Vag-suvious!! Then, to be expected to pass a small alien creature through that opening in order to procreate -- what a curse. I haven't even mentioned the work associated with post-sex clean-up in order to avoid aggravating/infecting the crotch-volcano goddess (which is another good reason for going the oral sex route ladies). Good grief. For all the problems having a penis entails it doesn't even approach the same universe of horror that goes along with having woman parts!

Now, I did mention that there are downsides to having male "junk". What are they you ask? Well, to make this conversation easier - let's refer to the male organ as caveboy -- keeping in mind that the caveboy in question is very large, aggressive, has ADHD & self control issues, and is occasionally rude. OK - here we go:

Having a mind of its own: I know you women think this is a joke -- but it is not. Most of the time we have little to no control over Caveboy. Think of him as having a selfish teenager with behavior issues living in your pants. Seriously. Caveboy can get his game on and be demanding attention at any moment, on any occasion, regardless of the circumstances. Now ladies, I am sure you cannot relate to this at all because sexual desire and thinking about sex for your species is tied like a straightjacket to things like intimacy, romance, and the right circumstances -- and 99% of the time guys have no fucking idea what the right circumstances are. Why, because we think about sex CONSTANTLY. Yes... again, I speak for 90% of the men out there. We can have sex at just about any time, any place, for any reason and in all brutal honesty - with just about anyone. Without revealing TMI here -- guys can, and do, get aroused just by being in the same room with a woman, from the wind blowing, at a funeral, during a meeting, while driving, while sleeping, for no reason at all, and even if we are sick with the flu........ who am I kidding... if I was stricken in bed about to die, one of the last thoughts that would barge into my brain like a pissed off hungry bear into a camper's cooler filled with salmon would be the thought of sex. We think about sex -- and can be ready for sex -- 24/7. There, I said it. We don't need to be "warmed up" or put into a romantic setting, hell.... the kids don't even have to be in bed.... We are ready to go because unlike women, sex is not all about intimacy for most men. This will be a topic for another post - the whole sex = intimacy thing.

OK -- so why are guys like this. There are lots of reasons - the main one being that we are incredibly simplistic and primitive creatures. We work, we eat, we sleep, we watch sports, we scratch ourselves, and we fuck.... it's really that simple. But there are 2 other major reasons:

First, we have male junk filled with testosterone that clouds our thinking -- just like having an infant does to you women. Imagine you are sitting at your kitchen table reading the paper or doing work and every few minutes a completely undisciplined 3-yr old runs in the room and demands your attention. EVERY few minutes this happens, all day, day after day after day after day. We all know there is only so much you can do to corral the toddler -- at least without have CPS called on you. Well... this is what it is like to have a penis & have testosterone coursing through your veins. The thought of sex is CONSTANT (again, for most of us).

Second, men know (especially married men) that we have little to no control over how often we are having sex (at least sex with someone other than our own hand) and what that sex will entail. We are at the mercy of women. We only get laid when our women allow it. We also know that women need a whole bunch of conditions to be just right for them to be in the mood to have sex -- something akin to having OCD -- so we need to be ready at ALL times lest we miss out on an opportunity. It's like wandering the dessert dying of thirst. If you don't have your canteen out when it starts raining, then you're screwed. And since it usually doesn't rain as often as men would like it to (we'd prefer it to be the rainy season year round) -- or even at predictable times -- then we need to always have our canteens ready.

Now -- before any of you readers (especially the woman I share my cave with) think the Caveman here is dying of thirst... let me correct that misconception. That being said, I like all men, still have my canteen ready because I never know when it will rain.

Having a penis does not equal having big balls: Yes, some men have a mixture of testosterone and fucking stupidity running through their veins and, as such, it gives them the idea that they possess a special God-given license to be a Neanderthal. This is typically the guy who either excelled at high school football or comes from a family with money. For those guys, having a penis means you also developed your balls at a young age. You experimented with being the tough or arrogant guy when the rest of us were worrying about acne and our future. Thus, for those of us that didn't get to exercise our balls at a young age, having balls can mean that instead of those little worked out sperm-producing fellas in your nutsack we have two 25-lb couch-potato balls filled with "societies' imposed role of the Male's place in the world" that you have to drag around with you wherever you go. You never got the chance to test them out when you were young but now you need to use them for things like "standing up for the reputation of your woman" or "being the boss" or "fighting for your woman's honor" or even just something simple like you have a bunch of people living in your cave (wife & kids) whose very existence & happiness is dependent on your ability to go out and kill enough tigers and elephants for them to eat. In modern times -- that also means make enough money to not only pay the bills - but to keep them happy & that they are not living an existence beneath the level of everyone else they know. That's an awful lot to expect from these out of shape, inexperienced balls that spent their first 18 -25 years in a pure survival mode and not as the appendages to an alpha male. In the end, male happiness is really irrelevant. Oh yeah... our women & caveskids all SAY they want their caveman to be happy -- but that is only if that means that the caveman's happiness means he will still go out and earn enough money to support all the cavedwellers in the lifestyle to which they've grown accustomed.

Having a club between your legs means that in between thinking about sex, the other thing you think constantly about is money. Because size is not only important with regard to the size of the loin-skin you need to wear, but the size of the paycheck you bring home. Every caveman knows that his woman measures him against all her girlfriends' cavemen and that the women compete with one another. All cavemen have seen women evaluate one another based solely on the success or failure of the caveman they are with. Guys know this -- and since part of our responsibility is the "protection" of our women -- we feel compelled to work as hard as we can to make sure our women can be the alpha female at the mommy's club. Why do you think we die earlier -- its from all the stress associated with having a banana & two kumquats between our legs.

OK -- that being said -- I'd still rather keep my caveboy & die 5 years earlier than my wife. I wouldn't want to deal with the monthly sacrifices to the crotch volcano goddess that she endures. During this post the caveman thought about sex at least a dozen times. Now I need to hope for a rainstorm.

The Caveman.

Unmentionables

Boxers or Briefs? The provocative question du jour. How many of us cringe when a so-called "journalist" is engaged in an embarrassing and failed attempt at looking hip by throwing out this question to their male interviewee -- "So, boxers or briefs?" We can hear the oohs and ahhs (thinking back to when Clinton was asked this question during an interview on MTV). Oh, how "edgy" to ask such a question. Please. Really? This is a question that is only interesting to women and gay men because quite honestly -- most men don't give a shit about underwear. And we care even less (if at all) about what kind other men are wearing.

Why the topic of underwear --- well... the following rant about mens' "drawers" is just a counterpoint to a fellow frustrated writer - a/k/a blogger - who wrote a very funny take on the issue of underwear from a woman's perspective. Her name is Madam Ovary and her blog can be found at: http://www.madamovarypart2.blogspot.com/

In the blog, the Madam eloquently weaves a tale of affection and emotional attachment to various ladies unmentionables and how the selection of which panties & bra to wear each day is directly connected to her particular mood. Only a woman could be so conflicted about something like underwear and have its selection & wearing be connected to one's emotional state. NEVER would this occur for a man.

Let's look at the concept of underwear in the Man Cave.

First - the idea that a woman would possess dozens of pair of underwear - with each them being a different style, fabric, and design -- and identify each as appropriate for a specific occasion or mood is just... ... odd. Most men only possess between 6-10 pair of underwear -- and they ALL look the same. They are all either boxers or briefs (rarely does any men wear both kinds). They are either all white or a solid dark color and they all can be worn for work, golf, yard work, hanging out on the couch, a romantic evening with the wife/girlfriend, or being sworn in as President of the United States. There is no difference. We open the drawer and pull out the top pair, put them on without a thought, and go. That is, unless the man at issue is gay - then God only knows what colors, styles, themes, fabrics, leathers, or flavors lurk deep inside his dresser and each pair may be labeled for certain occasions. The rest of us... couldn't care less.

As a matter of fact -- and this is probably no surprise to you married women -- most men care so little about underwear that: (1) we wear them with holes, stains, if they are stretched out, if they aren't clean, and if they are not even appropriate (i.e., thongs, bikini, etc), and (2) some men only wear underwear because we are supposed to and, left to our own devices, would probably go commando. As a matter of fact, if we didn't have women in our lives, most of us would leave the house without shaving, with mis-matched & wrinkled clothes, and enough cologne to smell like a male whorehouse. If I ever selected a pair of underwear based on my mood or the occasion... ... well... I'd probably be looking for a boyfriend instead of my wife.

While we are on the subject of a woman's undies -- let me weigh in briefly (yes, a pun). First, 90% of men couldn't give a rat's ass what their woman wears as underwear and would probably prefer she wear either something completely slutty (and obviously uncomfortable) or nothing at all (obviously, on some occasions, this is completely unsanitary). In the end, while you slowly peel off your clothes to reveal that fancy lingerie underneath -- you know, the one that matched your mood for the day -- all we are thinking about is what you look like naked and how fast we can get on top of you (or vice versa). Because in the end ladies, its what you look like NAKED that we really care about -- not the silly little overpriced lacy thing that no one ever sees and ends up in a ball 10 seconds after you take the outer layer off. Really... you can put the most beautiful & tasteful matching panties & bra set on an obese women and it won't necessarily make her sexy or desirable. But... you can put a dirty trash bag on a hot sexy woman and it only makes her sexier. I am pretty sure there isn't a guy I know who would turn away a good shagging with a Victoria Secrets model just because she's wearing "granny panties" and a mis-matched bra. As a matter of fact... if the guy even noticed she was wearing that I might suspect he is gay. Now I know I don't speak for ALL men... just most.

Of course we do enjoy the little maid costume or the satin teddy... but mostly because if you are wearing it it means we are getting some action. You see... I suspect most women actually wear these things to get themselves in the mood. Be real... I don't care if you are the maid, the chauffeur, the UPS lady, or some hooker - as long as you are going to let me bang you like a drum I am happy. Of course its also nice if you'd go down.... well... I won't go there this time.

Now... while men really don't care much about style for underwear --- we are VERY concerned with comfort. Ladies... I know you have your own crosses to bear with the whole cramps, bleeding, and swollen boobs horror that God so cruelly inflicted on you... but none of you have a bat hanging between your legs with two nectarines swinging around in a loose pouch of wrinkled skin. The equipment needs to be managed and kept safe, dry, and free from clinging to the thighs. So - the choice of boxers or briefs is made primarily with equipment comfort in mind. Now one might think that the size of the equipment would dictate the direction a man might go - but that is not necessarily true. Now I can only speak for myself... and without crossing into TMI territory here... my choice has always been about keeping control of the sometimes uncontrollable. I don't care if my Frankenstein is in a white, blue, black, or plaid cage... so long as I know he won't be making any unrequested appearances and scaring the villagers. But that's just me. Others like to leave "room to breathe" or are afraid they might end up putting the boys in a crotch tourniquet so they go for a more freeing style.

But it really isn't more complicated than that. There is no emotion involved.

So... ladies... (and Madam)... make those emotional attachments and decisions if in the end it makes YOU feel sexy. Because, as I said... if what you are wearing is directly related to my chances of getting laid - then wear whatever the hell makes you all hot and ready.... because we will be ready no matter what.

The Caveman