Bryan W. Alaspa 1Missing some guy parts
February 3rd 2010 15:08
Let me start off by saying that I am indeed male. I have all of the necessary equipment to be male. I do not feel like a woman trapped in a man’s body. I do not dress in women’s clothing and I do not find myself attracted to men. When I say I am missing some “guy parts” I mean some mental parts. There are just things about my brain that seem to be so vastly different from what normal guys’ brains have.
The first thing that comes to mind is cars. I have never found cars to be particularly interesting. Other guys would buy car magazines and cut out pictures of the sports cars they wanted. Even in high school, I knew guys who would have photos of cars they wanted taped on the inside of their locker. Me? I never had a sports car that I really wanted. I never had a desire to work on a car. I have no interest in how a car’s engine works.
I have friends who delighted in working on their cars. Their eyes would gleam when they pulled out their prized set of socket wrenches and then jack their car up on something to then crawl under it. I knew guys who loved installing this and that into their cars and spend hours and hours working lovingly on them. I have seem guys crawl right under the hood, balancing on the edge of the engine compartment, sweat dripping from their noses as they worked wrenches into impossible positions to reach some obscure engine component.
For me, the question always was, does the thing run? Will the car get me from point A to point B? If the answer was “yes” then I was fine with the car. I didn’t care if the damn thing had rich Corinthian leather or not.
This makes me very vulnerable when I visit a mechanic who always have some kind of sixth sense when they see someone they know knows nothing about engines. They can make up as many words as they want and know I will pay whatever they charge because I have no way of fixing the issue myself.
The second thing is related, in some ways. I have no love of tools. I have no dreams of a workshop stocked with drills and saws and things like that. Generally speaking, my experiments with power tools has usually resulted in some kind of injury either to myself, those around me, or the thing I was trying to build or fix. I lived in a townhome and tried exactly one (1) home improvement project and that was re-grouting a shower. By the time I was done my shower was more of a stucco shower than a nicely tiled and grouted one.
I do not long for home improvement projects. There are people who do love to do those things and you can pay them to do them for you. That is the way I prefer to go. I can better spend the time I would be using to damage myself or my home writing an article, short story or researching my latest true crime book.
So, I am not like most guys. I have no desire to even try and fix something on my own. I just reach for a phone and call the people paid to do the fixing for a living. They seem to like it, since they do it all day long. In short, maybe that makes guys like me better for the economy, really. I leave that up to you to decide.
The first thing that comes to mind is cars. I have never found cars to be particularly interesting. Other guys would buy car magazines and cut out pictures of the sports cars they wanted. Even in high school, I knew guys who would have photos of cars they wanted taped on the inside of their locker. Me? I never had a sports car that I really wanted. I never had a desire to work on a car. I have no interest in how a car’s engine works.
I have friends who delighted in working on their cars. Their eyes would gleam when they pulled out their prized set of socket wrenches and then jack their car up on something to then crawl under it. I knew guys who loved installing this and that into their cars and spend hours and hours working lovingly on them. I have seem guys crawl right under the hood, balancing on the edge of the engine compartment, sweat dripping from their noses as they worked wrenches into impossible positions to reach some obscure engine component.
For me, the question always was, does the thing run? Will the car get me from point A to point B? If the answer was “yes” then I was fine with the car. I didn’t care if the damn thing had rich Corinthian leather or not.
This makes me very vulnerable when I visit a mechanic who always have some kind of sixth sense when they see someone they know knows nothing about engines. They can make up as many words as they want and know I will pay whatever they charge because I have no way of fixing the issue myself.
The second thing is related, in some ways. I have no love of tools. I have no dreams of a workshop stocked with drills and saws and things like that. Generally speaking, my experiments with power tools has usually resulted in some kind of injury either to myself, those around me, or the thing I was trying to build or fix. I lived in a townhome and tried exactly one (1) home improvement project and that was re-grouting a shower. By the time I was done my shower was more of a stucco shower than a nicely tiled and grouted one.
I do not long for home improvement projects. There are people who do love to do those things and you can pay them to do them for you. That is the way I prefer to go. I can better spend the time I would be using to damage myself or my home writing an article, short story or researching my latest true crime book.
So, I am not like most guys. I have no desire to even try and fix something on my own. I just reach for a phone and call the people paid to do the fixing for a living. They seem to like it, since they do it all day long. In short, maybe that makes guys like me better for the economy, really. I leave that up to you to decide.
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