After a weekend and last night in a house with seven females, I was ready for some attention from a man. I am completely secure in my sexuality, so I have no problem making that statement.
Who could blame me?
After all, I just spent three days playing Barbies, painting fingernails, running to the local pharmacy to grab tampons for a roommate, and hearing about the discomfort of hot flashes from the house mom. Doesn't anyone in my house know that I am not one of them? I mean, shit, I do have testicles!
This morning when I walked into work, all I wanted was some good ole male conversation with the other PE teacher who shares an office with me. I knew he would be up for some football talk, or chatter about the sex we didn't have this weekend, and maybe even some arguing over whether or not Heath Ledger should have received the Oscar nomination for his role in The Dark Knight.
Any of that would of been have been great and exactly what I needed. I knew he wouldn't disappoint me.
"Morning Coach, what's up?" I said, waiting anxiously for his response.
"Hey... You should have seen the Chicken Soup I made for dinner last night. I made it from scratch."
I cook and take great pride in it, but, really? Are you kidding me? This is what we were going to talk about? Who traded the male chauvinist I was used to working with for Betty Crocker?
"Really? It was good?" I said, trying to sound interested.
"Oh yea, even my son liked it and he doesn't like anything. Don't you hate cooking something for your kids and they don't touch it? That's him all the time."
Almost as much as I hate where this conversation is going. But, Ok, well that has to be the end of it. Time to move on to something else, right?
"It was awesome cutting up everything and actually cooking it myself. You should have smelled the house... it was like we were in the kitchen of some great chef. But, it was me!"
"I never thought that soup could be a meal in itself, however, it was so rich and full of vegetables and chicken. I was full after one bowl. I made plenty... I brought some if you want to try it at lunch. You'll love it."
"Sure, Rob. I'll try it. What part of the chicken did you use?" I asked, hoping his answer would lead to the type of conversation I wanted.
"The recipe called for a whole chicken, but I bought these big chicken breasts and cut it up in big chunks. I like the breast the best." Bingo... he took my bait.
"Me too, Rob. I have always been a breast man."
Finally, we were talking like men.
Tough Times Don’t Last; Tough People Do
1 day ago