In today’s #RandyTales, our hero returns and contemplates being a guy…
I often joke that I am terrible at being a guy. Not that I do terrible things (I mean, I do but not the point). I am a poor example of masculinity. My guy card is mostly ceremonial being used so I can pee standing up. I don’t know anything about cars or sports or hunting or any number of other subjects that are all classified as “guy stuff”. I have always attributed this to some kind of deep gender dysmorphia related to my cross dressing, but I recently came to a different realization.
I bought a grill for the back yard at Castle Snark. It is a nice big grill for cooking many meats (and non-meat options occasionally) to feed my friends. Since I knew literally nothing about grills, I asked someone who I consider to be a prime example of masculinity and a grill master for 50+ years – my future father-in-law. He gave me his advice – which I took – and then did my own research. His recommendation and my requirements resulted in a very expensive solution, so I bought a cheaper (yet still respectable) brand.
This seemed to upset my art director – not taking her father’s advice. And she voiced her concern to her father, who promptly shut that shit down. He said (and I am partially paraphrasing here) “Randy didn’t have a father figure. He has taught himself how to be a man.”
I think that bears repeating. I taught myself how to be a man.
Now, those who are new to the shit show that is my life – I did have a father. There was a guy who claimed me on his taxes and routinely beat the shit out of me. He didn’t teach me how to change my oil or brake pads – a Chilton’s manual did that. He didn’t teach me basic home repair – Bob Villa did. He didn’t teach me about the birds and the bees – Butch Fulton did on the back of the school bus. Hell, he didn’t teach me how to grill burgers – I watched a YouTube video. It wasn’t that he didn’t know HOW to do these things – they were totally in his wheelhouse. He chose not to show them to me.
Thinking about it, the only thing I can think of he taught me was how to pour a rum & coke and pour beer without getting a massive head on it – both great skills that appeal in the alcoholic in me. Most of what I learned from him was what not to do. How NOT to treat a woman. How NOT to treat people who are in the service & hospitality industries. How NOT to raise my children. How NOT to interact with people with bullying & intimidation.
But the important stuff, I taught myself. A self-made man, as it were. And when you teach yourself, you’re never quite as good as someone who learned like an apprentice. But you also don’t inherit the flaws of the teacher. No one will ever accuse me of ‘toxic masculinity’ or ‘mansplaining’. These are inherited conditions passed from generation to generation. And now I have two small-ish children to help shape into being men.
I may not be able to teach them how to rebuild a carburetor – but I can teach them who to take your car to and always have the money in the bank to take care of any emergency issues. I may not be able to teach them the rules of a two point conversion, but I can teach them how to listen and learn from others without ego. I can teach them to always tip 20%, because there is always a reason why people are off their game. I can teach them how to treat a woman by example, whether that is my mother, their mother, my amazing girlfriend, or any other woman. And I can definitely teach them how to grill a good steak.
I’m not a good example of a guy. But I am a great example of how to be a son, a boyfriend, a human, and a father. And at the end of the day – that means more to me than anything else.
Though some basic woodworking skills might have been nice…