We Ain't Got a 1-Track Mind
Some people (okay, by people, I mean all women) are
under the impression that men only have a one-track
mind. Now, I find that quite insulting. Reducing us
to a single track? You gotta be kidding me. So, yeah,
we watch a lot of sports. Some of us even play one,
on an occasion or two. But that doesn't mean it's
the only thing we ever think about! Or are capable
of participating in. I mean, c'mon, ladies. Are you
forgetting S-E-X? Hello? We do think about that a
lot too. Just in case you needed to be clued in.
sure, we might be arithmetically-challenged (but according
to the studies, not as arithmetically-challenged as
you), but that doesn't mean we can't add one and one
together and get two. D'oh. Two tracks. Not one. Let's
start with the first.
Me Out to the Ballgame -- Or Just Let Me Sit On My
Couch and Watch It Without You Bothering Me
is something that probably has kept you up nights
thinking about. Probably taken up many a- Grande Mocha
Soy Lattes with your girlfriends: Why the hell are
these guys so into their sports?
me begin the answer by saying that sports helps put
food on the table, the kids through school and the
Nordstorms credit card in your Gucci purse. You think
first off, I am not saying you need to be a sports
groupie to cash in on this wave of goodwill -- although
it wouldn't hurt! I'm saying that the world is a competitive
beast, and a man who has been weaned on sports has
a distinct advantage over those that were weaned on,
say, granola, bean sprouts and Birkenstalks. Okay,
low blow, I took a shot at the hippies. God love em.
Or Jesus, or Jah, or whoever they're into this week.
athlete has the desire to win.
so winning's not everything, except in America, but
it sure helps spin those bean sprouts into a fat steak
every so often.
probably thinking: Okay, I almost buy that, but what
about a guy who isn't an athlete, but he uses his
brain to succeed? Let's call him, um, Bill Gates.
News flash: Computers are just as much a sport for
Bill Gates as groupies were to Wilt Chamberlain. You
ever seen the workout someone gets from typing? And,
okay, Bill's putting food on the table, and supplies
you with a maximum amount of credit cards, but do
you really want to come home to see him waiting for
you with the covers down in his Mickey Mouse boxers?
Okay, low blow, now I'm picking on NERDS! And really
there's no definitive recipe on this, no one type
of man who has a leg up on another (unless you're
some androgynous Cirque du Soleil dude or Siegfried
or Roy), but sports help men learn the game of life.
way!" you say. My husband sits on his duff all day
watching sports, and the only thing it gets me is
more chips to clean up between the cushions. "You
cannot be serious!"
right along, men enjoy their sports for many, many
other reasons, all which relate to learning about
life. But first, a little quote from Henry Ford: "The
seemingly unattainable is realized through the resolve
of many." (Wonder if this is strategically placed
above the plant door, so Ford's minimum wage worker
bees can get fired up every day.)
Mystery. We learn to accept that we cannot decide
the outcome, only play (root) our best and "let go"
into the journey. Now, if that doesn't make sports
sound mystical, I don't know what else could.
Chemistry. Not the class kind. We left that for the
Henry Ford/Bill Gates of the world to complete in
high school while we were out getting stoned on Loadie
Lane. Chemistry in terms of camaraderie. And, no,
we don't just like the camaraderie for the pats on
the ass. We enjoy being in a situation where a group
of people (okay, by people, I mean men) can cooperate
enough to become one unit (a unit that doesn't have
to get paid $3 an hour working for Henry Ford).
sure, we could also learn to do that kind of thing
in the army, but we've seen Michael Moore's movie,
and we don't think the army would be such a fun place
for us to mingle. (Hey, party on the Iraqi Sea tonight
we prefer to come together on the playing field. Which,
if we're talking hockey, can almost be perceived as
treacherous as Iraq. Oh right, that is, when they're
is a beautiful thing. Five men coming together to
put a ball through a hoop. Pure genius. Mainly because
they get paid a gazillion dollars to do such a simple
task. This is where the groupie part comes in. Not
that we're trying to encourage you to go after men
who play sports -- the successful ones. We'd just
like, as a team (okay, by team, I mean men), to be
appreciated for the things we bring to the table.
Which wouldn't be sprouts and granola. Unless, of
course, you like that kind of thing, and you're hot.
In that case, we'll bring you any damn thing you want.
Because, pleasing you, so we can reap the benefits
(okay, by benefits, I mean S-E-X), is high on our
list of things to do this week. It comes right after:
You Needed To Know About Why Men Are Such Horndogs
But Were Afraid To Ask
called procreation. So there. If you need any more
help on this matter, consult D-A-R-W-I-N.
Two Tracks Collide
so, yes, I admit, on occasion, our two tracks have
been known to collide. Okay, more than on occasion.
Let's say: obsessively. That's right, men turn sex
into a sport. And the irony is, we learn that shit
from junior high PE class, while
we're sitting in the locker room, either dressing
for class, or pretending to shower afterwards.
always the same thing. The questions start from somewhere.
Usually from some alpha male who, on occasion., has
gotten to see his little sister or cousin naked. He
thinks he is Hugh Hefner. Heck, maybe he was Hugh
Hefner. It's always the same: "You get laid yet?"
"Did you fuck her?" "Because I've been getting some."
The rest of us are sitting around impressed, not knowing
he is referring to his cousin- - and only the pictures
his uncle gives him of her.
there's nothing else for Troop Puberty to do but start
inventing our own stories, for fear of being, gasp,
called a fag. Right then, the demon seed is born (hopefully
not "Chucky" too). And for the rest of our lives,
or at least until we get to high school and actually
do get laid, maybe once, we are on a quest
to put into action what we so blatantly lie about.
becomes sport. To save face. To ride the coattails
of machismo. From there, it's all downhill. It just
keeps getting more out of hand. Until, sex surpasses
football, basketball and baseball, as our favorite
sport, and we are finally able to get laid on a regular
basis. This is when reality catches up to the lies
and we turn into "Serial Fucker." Mr. Notches On the
Belt, you know the routine. Some of us never grow
out of it. Okay, most of us never grow out of it.
That's why we still go to strip clubs after we get
married: we need more notches! We don't care if we
have to pay for them. They're still notches, aren't
yes, I admit, the serial fucking kind of tends to
color our relationships bad. Unless our significant
other is all for it, and she invites her girlfriends
over to feed our need. Which is way cool with us.
As long as their not serving granola and sprouts and
they've shaved under their pits.
Ain't Got a 1-Track Mind" is from an ongoing
series titled: The