I am not pure guy. I admit it. According to the Dave Barry definition, (and to my knowledge, Dave Barry never did actually “define” guyness), I don’t qualify for full membership in the association of guys because I have never, ever jumped head-first from a bridge with my ankles attached to bungee cords. Not only have I never bungee- jumped, I even hope to depart this life never having bungee-jumped.
In defence of my ultimate guyness however, I must point out that mooning someone is another matter altogether. There’s little risk involved in mooning someone. Not that I have ever mooned anyone either. I haven’t. I have a vague recollection of being in a car when I was a much younger guy and laughing as someone else in the car provided the people in the car beside ours with what was then called, “pressed ham.” But maybe that was just a thought rather than an actual recollection. Actual recollections include crazy automotive shenanigans https://jjacobik.wordpress.com/2016/08/11/almost-mayhem/ and of course lighting farts, which was too hilarious to cause us to suppress our guy curiousities in the name of prudence.
So I have distinct guy-like qualities, but I do not clamour after full membership in the secret society of guys, a society that is so secret that guys, themselves, don’t even know that it exists! Partial membership works just fine for me. Since I have been afflicted with NJS (Non-Joining Syndrome) nearly all my life, and even though I must go through life without the nifty, guy de-coding ring, partial membership works just fine for me. Partial membership is even better than full membership in some ways because I can more-or-less pick and choose among the many guy traditions. (They only have traditions, because there’s only one rule and it is that ‘rules’ aren’t allowed. Marginally self-defeating, but hey, that’s guys for ya!)
For example, I express my ultimate guyness whenever I choose to spend 2-12 hours watching NFL football on any given Sunday in the fall. I make sure to take breaks every now and then to visit the washroom, or step onto my porch and sniff the fall air, or assemble a giant sandwich or microwave my football-friendly Carribean Bean Casserole https://jjacobik.wordpress.com/2016/07/17/even-bacteria-got-culture/ to tuck into myself for sustenance.
I also express my guyness in my manner of dress. I once described my manner of dress by characterizing myself as a slob. That description is incorrect. A more accurate description would be “mostly uncaring about my appearance.” I wash my clothes regularly, so I am not a slob. But do I thereafter iron the clothes that need ironing? I do not! My clothes are clean but wrinkled, just like me.
I have guy-like qualities, but I fail the test when it comes to being thoughtless about safety. I don’t bungee jump. I don’t even zip-line. I do my best not to even be around dangerous activities. In a very un-guy-like manner, I regularly assess risk. I do engage in downhill skiing, which for a man entering his eighth decade of life strikes some people as fool-hardy. I have flown across the Atlantic a few times, which strikes me as close to fool-hardy. And I often drive on Ontario’s #400-series highways (like interstates), which is extremely fool-hardy. But I assess risk, I praise and stroke the potent guy idol, which all guys carry with them wherever they go, and I forge ahead, heedless of the danger, having faith that the powers of my idol will protect me in my undertaking.
Note that I did not call the guy idol ‘omnipotent.’ It is not omnipotent. Otherwise guys wouldn’t be getting killed or maimed in great numbers for doing stupid (oops, I meant to say, ‘guy’) things like bungee-jumping and such. If it were omnipotent, the guy idol wouldn’t let anything bad happen to any guy. But some guys even get themselves into deep doo-doo with their wives simply for showing the idol to another woman via e-mail. So that’s not omnipotent.
Where was I?
Oh yeah! So I have guy-like qualities that are very apparent. In that respect, I am probably nearly every woman’s dream project. I’m told by someone who ought to know that “women like a project.” Well, woman’s dream project as I may be, I keep getting the feeling that my gal would like to awaken from her dream.
I don’t get it.