Look, as I clearly explained in my last post, the MinuteCynic is pretty much the pinnacle of manhood. There's no scientific proof, but I put it out there for debate and there were no objections. I'm going with it.
Though the sheer magnitude of my masculinity is obvious, I'm secure enough in it to submit to the needs of the family and take on the newly appointed role of Family Chief Operating Officer Mom, while Wonder Woman returns to school to hone her skills. It's what the family needs right now, so I'm on it.
My manhood is also secure enough for me to say this: household/family/kid management isn't very easy. Not exactly breaking news, seeing as how women have trying to pass on this message for um, centuries. Diapers, cooking, dishes, diaper, cleaning, laundry, diaper, and breaking up fights are the highlights of my days now. Not that the tasks themselves are that hard, but its their CONSTANT nature which tend to grind me down to the soul. It'd be nice to just shut the family down for a few minutes a day, but apparently, parenting doesn't come with "break time", which is unfortunate. Odds are, Cain killed Abel while Eve was just trying to get like, 2 seconds in the bathroom to herself. I'm just sayin', stuff happens fast. No matter though, because I'm able to manage the days with class and poise, caffeine and Skittles, and the MC house runs like a well-oiled machine, 1998 Dodge Durango (stupid car)
Anyway, part of my new duties now include spearheading the household shopping effort. I'm having a blast with this because I love to spend money, and the kids love going to Target (shout out to my main checkout dude Wayne @ the Champlin SuperTarget. Friendly, speedy, nice to my kids, and bags like a champion. Keep doing your thing Wayne). Plus, its a nice change of pace to squeeze in between laundry and cleaning.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I tell Wonder Woman that I'm going to Target and to get me her list of essentials, which she dutifully provides. Thinking nothing of it, I get ready to head to the store an hour later or so and THAT'S when I finally double check the list..
Wait what? I don't even know what tha... Oh HELL no! No, no, no, no, no. She MUST be joking. There is NO way, I'm gonna put THOSE in my cart. What if Wayne sees that? He's not gonna think I'm cool anymore! Awww maaaaaaaan....
Bottom line, my wife needed feminine products, and I was the lucky soul with the shopping list for the day. I wasn't scared - I told you, I'm a man. It's just... inappropriate or something. Nevertheless, I marched off to Target determined to complete my mission, having spent 28 minutes studying the packaging, brand name, box color, and odd terminology I could expect to encounter once I entered "the aisle". I arrived at the store with Baby Boy in tow, and was pumped because Wayne was in full effect on checkout lane #17, and Pepsi was on sale, but it went downhill from there.
I had thought that I could execute some kind of "drive by" maneuver in "the aisle", swooping in to get the item in need, and swooping out - total elapsed time, 1.63 seconds. Apparently, the manufacturer of my wife's brand of product had decided to change the package, and I couldn't find it after 2 "drive bys" down "the aisle". In full panic, I took a deep breath and just stood there for what seemed like days and tried, in vain, to find what I had come there for. It was awful. Cold sweats, heart-rate about 368 - total elapsed time, 6 minutes. Fail.
Not a total failure though. After standing there for so long, marinating in my own humiliation, I noticed 7 or 8 women walk by, begin to turn into "the aisle", become totally startled, and quickly walk off. Sure, I never did find the elusive hygienic commodities, but I stumbled upon a liberating truth for men everywhere: WOMEN DON'T WANT US IN "THE AISE".
For all the complaining about how a "macho man" gets reduced to tears when asked to enter the sacred merchandising zone to pick up some "product" for the significant lady in their life, the fact is simple: "The aisle" is sacred to women too. No woman wants to buy her most personal stuff with a random sweaty guy looking over her shoulder.
So, the next time your lady tries to put you to the test, accept the challenge. Step into "the aisle" and own it. Hold your head high with the knowledge that they are more afraid of you, than you are of "those things".
Do it. It's what a man would do.
