Got your attention didn't I?
Good, because I have a revelation to share with you good folks.
In this day and age of men marrying men, women marrying women, crazy internet trannies, and Fox reality makeover shows it is kind of hard to draw a straight line between the two sexes.
No longer must we rely on "checking the plumbing" to classify men versus women. Daytime television has educated the general public on the "woman inside of the man” syndrome, while Lifetime Television has emasculated countless others.
So what makes a man?
One simple answer – poop patrol.
That’s right, poop patrol. When men finish “dropping the kids off at the pool” it is our natural inclination to study our handy work. This habit spans generations, age groups, and even the presently blurry gender lines.
While the women reading this article may be bewildered and/or disgusted, I think I can say with certainty that men everywhere know where I’m coming from.
But to be fair to the fairer sexes, or as we’ll refer to you ladies from this point forward, the “non-BM checker-outers” I will expound upon my thesis.
There are many thoughts that go through a man’s head while he’s “losing weight”, typically that is why we read – to clear our heads of such complicated matter. There is nothing worse then getting caught up in a “what if” situation while “moving the delinquent tenets out of the building”. Situations like this take place typically in the absence of a handy sports section, clothing catalogue, or shampoo bottle and can proceed in the following manner, “What if there really is no meaning to life and we’re just carbon based life forms floating in space.” Wham! A good day spoiled.
But I digress, which is fairly difficult when writing an article on this subject. Critical mass, so to speak, for this conjecture is reached after the aforementioned movement is completed. The actions and thoughts that take place at this stage will now drastically differ, separating the men from, well, the women.
While women tend to “tidy up” and flush, men make bets with themselves. Evidence is tough to dig up in this area because it seems most people prefer to be alone. However, I can be sure of the fact that every organism with a Y chromosome has had the following conversation with himself at least once in his life:
“That one’s not going down in one flush. That one’s not going down in one flush!”
At this point men typically lay odds and flush with anticipation.
So ladies, if you ever run upon a man having a particularly good day, chances are he’s had a “three flusher”. The rarity, like a perfect game in a World Series, is cherished and looked upon with the greatest of pride. Somehow though I doubt these game balls will be sold off on EBay.