It’s very manly to be able to repair things… in theory.
This is The Good Men Project. This is the one place where men can talk freely about their feelings (and not get mocked), express opinions on subjects they may not be able to elsewhere, and, plainly, be vulnerable. Since I’ve written for this website, my material has been funny, snarky, and somewhat open. But not vulnerable. Not fully written from the heart or confessional.
Well. Here’s a confession.
I can’t fix anything.
I can’t fix s#*t.
That’s my one glaring weakness as a man (In my opinion). The lone threat to my Man Card privileges being revoked. I’m NOT a handyman. Or a repair man.
I can troubleshoot like crazy. If the internet goes out in my house, I’ll figure that out in minutes. If my satellite cable service fizzles out during a tied football game in the fourth quarter, best believe I’ll fix that. I may even go out and manually adjust the satellite dish. I can help you delete that pesky app you no longer want on your phone.
But, you want something repaired? You’d better not call me.
Trust me. I’ve tried. I tried to fix my bike when I was a kid. Hell, I tried to BUILD a bike (twice). Total failure. I turned a bicycle into a unicycle. In fact, the second bike I “built” fell apart while I riding it. I tried to fix old toys. No go. I ended up maiming and disfiguring nearly all of my GI Joe and Star Wars action figures. The only things these hands of mine are good at are stroking keyboard keys and juking linebackers on “Madden”.
I feel so bad for my girlfriend. And my Mom. Well…any woman that I’m close to. I’ve seen to look in my lady’s eyes when she’s asked me to fix something, and I’ve plead, “ Why don’t we just call someone?” What really sucks is that my girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend can FIX ANYTHING. He built repaired our toilet, and built an outside deck for our house…while drinking beer. My Mom? I’ve felt the sting of disappointment when my mother’s sagged her shoulders, knowing that her oldest boy can’t even begin tofix her broken shower.
I have no trace of mechanic in my DNA. I can say DNA. But it’s also my upbringing. My parents nearly always called repairmen to fix things. I think that’s pretty customary for families who grow up in cities and urban areas. But, my Dad wasn’t good at fixing things either, so I guess it is DNA.
I can pretty much guarantee the rest of my Man Card can be punched. I love football (college and pro). I can drink beer with the best of them. I work out when I can. I own several action movies. I also own sports jerseys. I can tell an inappropriate joke.
But fixing things? Anything? Not my thing.
Now, if you need me to set the time on your DVD player?