Lessons in Manhood
Lesson 3: Acting in the Name of Manhood
Ok, Squatch, I want to talk to you about these doctor visits you keep making us go to. I’m not going to gripe about all the money you’re costing us (or will cost us) going to these leeches—that’s a post for another time. This isn’t really even about doctors, per se. The lesson comes later; just stick with me. You know how much of a blowhard your dad is.
See, the last time your mom and I went to see your maternity doctor, I got a little bent out of shape afterward. First of all, the waiting room of that place is a zoo. At one point, Karli leaned over and whispered, “I feel like I landed right in the middle of an episode of Teen Mom.” Yeah—you owe us, Squatch.
But the waiting room wasn’t what I got my panties in a twist about. It was the doctor. Your mom managed to rescue me from the zoo by getting them to let me back in the exam room. I guess they don’t get a lot of that. And when the doctor came in, he was very helpful in answering Karli’s questions, and he made the whole thing as quick and painless as possible.
Only thing was, he didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Not a “hi,” not a “Good morning, Mr. Sasquatch,” not even a terse nod in my direction as he walked in. Barely even looked at me. I got the feeling he must’ve thought I was the cab driver or something.
Now I understand that I wasn’t the center of attention there. We were there for you and your mom. But you can at least recognize the other person in the room, right? And I was actually warned about this by some of those parenthood/fatherhood books—that a lot of doctors don’t acknowledge dads in the room. It’s just common courtesy, y’know?
That’s not the lesson we’re here for today, however. The lesson today is that fathers—as a group, as a class, as a societal unit—have earned that exam room snub. Because a great many fathers throughout our culture’s history, and in present day America, have not acted like Men.
Of course, it doesn’t take much to be a father—just a working weiner (see Lesson 1). Which means there are a lot of irresponsible asshats making babies. It absolutely isn’t just men who are asshats making babies—it’s just as easy for a woman to be a baby-making asshat—but this is Lessons in Manhood here, so that’s who we’re focusing on. And asshats, whether making babies or not, can do a whole lot of damage.
I’m not a business expert by any means, but I do know this: bad word-of-mouth is exponentially more influential than good word-of-mouth. A bad experience will get spread further an faster than any good experience will. Which means any negative will need to be countered by about a thousand positives. Same thing goes for Men. For every douchebag who abandons his family or beats his wife or buys a Kings of Leon album or molests a child, there needs to be at least 1000 good Men to counteract that. And simply looking around that waiting room at the doctor’s office, that ain’t happening.
The terrible people aren’t in the majority, Squatch. But they’re still winning. It’s just a sheer numbers game, and there’s simply no way for the good Men to keep up. It doesn’t mean that they stop trying.
Wanting to be a good Man is a step in the right direction. Good intentions play a big role in being a good Man. These are the people to associate with, Squatch*. Find good Men who know what it means to do the right thing. Learn from them—not just practical skills, but also how to fight the good fight. They’re doing it for all good Men, everywhere.
*And if you’re into dudes, then find yourself a good Man. It’s not as hard as some people make it out to be. There are more of them than there are douchebags. And they tend to congregate.
This probably should have been the first lesson, but it’s better late than never. With any luck, by the time you’re ready to have your own Squatchlet, maybe manhood will have taken a leap forward and the doctor will begin to recognize the Man in the room.