The Man Lair

It has been nearly a year and a half since I abandoned bachelorhood and moved in with Kelly and HRH.  And while the whole transition has been pretty smooth sailing with very little challenge, there is still one domain where I do not yet feel like an equal – the master bathroom.

It’s through no fault of Kelly’s, mind you, as she has done just about everything to be as accommodating as possible and make me feel comfortable in my new digs.  Yet, even though I still keep a toothbrush, some vitamins and some other assorted toiletry stuff in there, it just doesn’t feel like ‘home’ yet.

Instead, I use the bathroom downstairs, or what I prefer to call my ‘Fortress of Solitude’; an inner sanctum where I can relax, read my Bicycling magazines, play some computerized Blackjack, scope out new recipes from my Runners World, or familiarize myself with the next few pages of ‘What’s Your Poo Telling You?’  Either way, I’m exiting a more relaxed, content, and peaceful person.  It’s where I keep all my shaving stuff, my manly deodorants and scents, as well as my assorted ass cream (it’s a long story).  It’s where my chosen wall decorations are considered as ‘Art’ and not an ‘Abomination’.  Seriously, what man can take a dump with pictures of flower bouquets and sunsets hanging on the wall?  You might as well tat him out a croqueted toilet seat cozy and pay for the castration up front.  A man needs a manly place to, to…”express” himself; if you catch my drift (and God help you if you do).

Seriously, how can I coexist in an environment that has these lady things in it?

Ground zero in Ladytown

Ground zero in Ladytown

It just expands and expands across the counter top like a black hole until everything is literally sucked up into it’s void and you’re left with only a small piece of real estate under the sink with the silverfish.  Besides, what dude likes to see poofs out and in the open?  Real men don’t ‘poof‘.

So anyway, in peaceful defiance, I still maintain my downstairs Man Lair as a safe haven away from the girls as a way to preserve what little semblance of bachelor independence I still have left.  It’s like my bachelor’s nature preserve, or sanctuary if you will.  Where I can be a man, surrounded by manly things, and tend to my manly business.  Particularly around 10:30am and, maybe again at 7:30pm in the evenings given that my bowels operate with the clockwork efficiency of a German train schedule.  All aboard!

God help me.

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3 Comments

  1. Kelly

     /  October 14, 2013

    I protest ! That poof was staged ! Staged I tell you ! Who keeps a puff by the sink ????
    Oh, And your so called “bachelor independence” ? Long. Gone.
    Mwahahaha ♥

    Reply
  2. Lies!! All lies!! At least I still have my man lair.

    Reply
  3. Kelly

     /  October 15, 2013

    for now ……

    Reply

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