You’re probably wondering if I realize what a big, girly sissy man I am. That’s a great question, and the answer is definitely. I definitely do. Since I am surrounded by daughters and wives (three of the first kind, one of the second, stupid society), it’s just something I’ve already made my peace with.
So for example when I just now found myself wearing an apron in my kitchen, barefoot, making lunch for my wife while she worked at a desk downstairs, and when I realized that I was humming a song I got off of Glee the other night, and that when I wasn’t humming I was talking cheerfully to my puppy dog, I thought well Tom, it’s not like anyone ever thought blogging was manly. Don’t worry about it.
And I’m not worried about it – do I look like I am either manly or worried in the picture to the left? No, my friend. It’s 2011, and lots of girls can kick the shit out of the average grown man. It’s not scary being girly, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
And sometimes I do really, really manly stuff anyway, but I’m not going to bother trying to convince you of that. Not on a blog, no thank you. That would be like the middle school kid who tries to ridicule you for shopping at K-Mart circa 1985, and you’re both standing there in K-Mart.
But it’s true – off of the Internet, I’m manly as hell. I clean up barf and relocate spiders and chop wood and lift weights and get in brawls and fly Stealth fighters and wrestle bears and also I’m a pirate, but whatever, you believe what you want.
Online though, you’re right. I’m not just a girl, I’m Lindsay Lohan. Like when I get personally mad at one person in particular and then spend a whole post squawking at them and snapping my fingers in an air Z.
Oh, crap. Was that offensive? The use of the term “squawking?” Well if it is, then you probably squawk too much. Might want to lighten up.
Anyway, find me on Facebook, and there’s a good chance that’s where I am, hanging around commenting on someone’s status with a bunch of other women, the digital equivalent of a quilting bee or a hair salon. So I sez to Myrtle, I sez…
And then also on Facebook, I can get very bitchy. There’s no other word for it. Sometimes I unfriend and block people who I know from the real world and for no other reason then I find them tiresome or they looked at me wrong. And then later when I run into them and they turn out to be really offended about it, I look puzzled and go, “Are you talking about Facebook?”
Sort of giggle at them, looking at everyone else. Because follow my logic, if I’m on Facebook more than most people, then everyone else around me in any real world situation is likely to be on there less than me, and therefore they won’t know how much I’m on there. It’ll look just like I’m a normal dude who doesn’t care about Facebook and barely understands it. And then the person who’s asking looks crazy!
Good, passive-aggressive fun. You need some ice for that burn, Heather?
I guess the most decidedly non-girly Facebook habit I have is photographs. I have barely any uploaded, whereas the vast majority of female Facebook users have some crazy four-digit number of them up there, usually a) themselves with one friend or several friends, hammered somewhere, b) themselves looking pensively at a sunset and pretending like they don’t know someone’s taking a picture and then posting it on Facebook, or c) themselves with a puppy dog or a baby.
See how I’m only hitting one out of three there? Just about every picture of me on Facebook was either put there by someone else and I glommed on to it, or it’s me and one of my puppy dogs (probably that one up there).
On the other hand, there are not a lot of dudes really active on Facebook, and a startling number of the ones I know are always hollering at me for one thing or another. A lot of people come up to me when I finally run into them in the actual world, and they sort of throw a completely baffled expression at me and gesture at me expectantly as if I know exactly what I ought to be explaining right now.
Tom, you’re on Facebook a lot.
But you know, having no interest in any professional sport of absolutely any kind, well as a guy that frees up what? Around six hundred hours a year? A thousand?
So I fill up the extra time with blogging and Facebook and television shows your kid probably watches, and also cupcakes and cookies. Maybe a cute little puppy dog in moderation.
Again, I can’t stress this enough: I’m drowning in girls over here. There’s not much male going on. Do you know what’s happening on Pretty Little Liars right now? Well I don’t watch it but it osmoses through the house at me. The one blonde girl has an eating disorder, the little brown-haired girl is a tramp, and that teacher dude needs an asskicking and then arrested and then several more asskickings.
There, see? Now if you’ll excuse me, Oprah has a new television network and I’m off to watch Boys on the Side.