My dad was the defeated minority, frequently hiding in a garage “fixing the car”, terrified of all the estrogen raging in the house and knowing that try as hard as he might, he could do no right. Even now, when I am the only girl in the family of four…
Throughout the years I have studied the males in their natural habitat, conducted scientific observations and even resorted to Gestapo-style interrogation.
It is mandatory for an American man to wear clothes only once.
At the end of a day, all the shirts, socks and underpants fly on to the floor.
Or that if I can read the bumper sticker on the car straight in front of me, I am, in fact, too close to him.
The back of the Harley guy’s t-shirt proclaims that “If you can read this, the bitch fell off”.
A more generous woman will allow those monstrosities to be installed in the garage, where the husband can hide “fixing the car”, while he, and his guitar gently weeps.
For example, you may find that “my child can beat up your honour student”.
No greasy hair, broken teeth or black socks with sandals. A pleasant sporty cologne is in his arsenal, even for the most macho of them, who otherwise use car keys to clean their ears.
A typical American man showers at least once a day, be it a fancy Wall Street racketeer or a hardworking labourer. The only way an American guy will jump in a tub is if there is already a pair of soapy boobs bobbing about. If a man’s daily routine includes going to the gym, or nooners with a mistress, add another shower.
Be it macho or metrosexual, a successful cohabitation and marriage with an American male begins with proper house training.
As a first step, literally, you must teach them to take their white sneakers off in the hallway. Americans are accustomed to plop their feet with their filthy shoes on right onto the coffee table. Imagine if you have a baby crawling around on the floor?