I am a man. I know this because I’ve looked.
My genitals and I have known each other for years. Oh! The stories we could tell! Grand, glorious songs that should be sung by choirs!
At first, our relationship was based on practicality; I needed the One-Eyed Wonderworm and his Two Magic Bags to perform certain functions necessary to my life and they needed me to carry them around (apparently, they need to travel…). Then, the meat-and-two-vegetables became aggressive and embarrassing; attacking me at inopportune moments like standing at the board trying to solve problems in math class, singing in church, or having to speak at a family funeral.
God, as is His wont, strove for perfection when he made Adam. I think God thought that Adam’s knees and elbows would be bigger, because he used that skin to get that Last-Chicken-In-The-Shop look of the General and Two Colonels. Artistically, He got it right when he made woman.
Men are purely functional: Eat. Sleep. Reproduce. Eat, Sleep, Reproduce (keep the high-heels-on…). Eliminate anyone who messes with The Schedule…
That’s what we think about. All of the time, 24/7.
Everything we do as men, red-blooded. spittin’ scratchin’ silly, pointless, farty, situationally brave and brilliant, the buildings we build and the sweat of our brow, is dedicated to The Schedule, and the biggest part of The Schedule is not ‘Eat’.
Men will gladly do without food for a few more minutes of sleep or the prospect of the fleeting moments wherein we let Russell The Love Muscle and The Nads out for some “Happy Naked Playtime” and…LO! AND BEHOLD! There is a FEMALE in the ROOM! YAY!
Our crippled, hairy hands and our self respect thank you, Ma’am!
My only suggestion, regarding men’s ‘Dangly Bits’?
I wish mine were retractable…
Show me the SADIST who said that BOY’S bikes have to have the middle bar and the girls bikes don’t! What kind of sick, twisted FREAKSHOW would think, deep in the darkest recesses of their diseased minds, that putting a BAR on a bike that young boys can FALL on accidentally in NUMEROUS ways was a good idea.
In a fight, I can take punches anywhere on my body and not give up, but not if you catch “The Boys”, I’m toast…
It is said that, barring extraordinary circumstance, childbirth is the most painful experience a human can go through. Of course, I had no say as to the delegation of duties as they relate to propagation of the species. I’m just trying to do my job, Honey…
All that said, I would like to nominate getting nicked in the knackers as the second most painful human experience.
That, and a tax audit.
And, at closing time, when you see that woman who looks like a princess, but will look like an orc in the morning, how handy would it be if a man could not only retract his dangly bits, but also have something that causes the male to be like a Ken doll until he sobers up!
Nothing there but a logo…