I raided a roadside sale to furnish my first apartment.
For a couch, I purchased a bench seat from a Ford F-150. For lamp tables, the choice was milk crates.
Had I not wed two years later, my living room might still look the same.
Real men keep it simple.
Give us a cold beer, a game on the tube and some occasional — scratch that, regular — female companionship, and we can survive nuclear winter.
Dudes pee outdoors, wash unsorted clothes and worship their Weber grill. We like to be told where to go — unless it’s hell — instead of being given options.
Want drama? You won’t find it in the testosterone zone.
Make no mistake. Guys like to mix it up, particularly on a court or field. Jaws flap and dukes come out, sometimes landing. But the minute the competition ends, so does the emotion.
This is no indictment of the opposite sex.
A man without a good woman is potential wasted.
She overlooks our flaws, accentuates our strengths and spares us embarrassment.
We are better men for it.