Testosterone is a blessing and curse.
Yesterday I was trailing behind Allie as she pedaled around the block. We passed a guy standing in his driveway clipping his fingernails.
"Hi," I said to him.
He glared at me.
I slowed my pace and sort of turned toward him and, in a tone I usually reserve for telemarketers, I said, "HELLO."
"Hey," our nail clipping neighbor said.
It was the most confrontational hey I'd ever heard and I promise you, it wasn't just my imagination. This guy continued to glare at me as if it was obvious I was looking for a place to crap on his lawn. He was acting like he wanted to mix it up and suddenly I wanted to accommodate him.
Instead I just shook my head as I watched Allie pedal away from me.
"Why's that man clipping his fingers in the driveway?" Allie asked as she continued pedaling.
"Because he's an impudent dickhead, sweetie. Dickheads always do their personal grooming in public. It's a lot like the baboons in the monkey house at the zoo. I tell you what, honey. After I kick this baboon's ass, I'll let you use those clippers to take off his eyebrows."
That's what I wanted to say. Instead I just said, "Better to drop nail clippings on the driveway than on the living room carpet."
When Allie and I got home we ran upstairs and found Debbie on the floor playing with Julia. I described to my wife the disrespect I had just experienced. She didn't say anything. But the look she gave me was a mixture of confusion and disdain; as if I had just smeared mustard all over my crotch.
The look was enough to calm me down a little. I understood why my need to vigorously massage the nail clipping man's face with my knuckles didn't make much sense to her. This moment of clarity didn't help much with the fact that I was still in need of some sort of outlet for my aggression.
I realize I'm starting to sound a little maniacal. For the most part, I'm honestly not prone to thoughts of violence. However there are times when I can actually feel these fiery red chemicals coat my brain. And Debbie, you can rest assured this phenomenon is not exclusive to your husband. Ask any male and he'll confirm there's a raving lunatic somewhere inside him.
So you're asking, "If this is true, then how can you claim testosterone is a blessing?"
Well, the fiery red sometimes changes to cool purple. That's when I'm able to tell myself that I am overwhelmingly desirable to the opposite sex despite the fact I cut the same profile as a pony keg.
Yes ladies, if I weren't married. . . LOOK OUT! And it's all thanks to the delusional powers of testosterone.
So Debbie, LOOK OUT! I'll be upstairs in just a few minutes. . . to talk about setting up the punching bag in the basement again.