ABOUT US  • COLUMNISTS   NEWS/EVENTS  FORUM ORDER FORM RATES MANAGEMENT CONTACT

Mike

Ball

 

 

Read Mike's bio and previous columns here

 

February 4, 2008

Ask Dr. Mike – Real Men Aren’t Springtime Fresh

 

Once again it’s time for Dr. Mike to break out the old copy of “Psychology for the Complete Idiot” and find answers to the problems threatening the very well being of my readers.

 

Dear Dr. Mike,

 

After many years of bachelor bliss, I have entered into a domestic partnership with a very wonderful woman. She has introduced me to many new aspects of life, including the concepts of eating foods other than steak, and having pants on when her mother comes to visit.

 

Many of the fascinating things she has taught me involve doing laundry. For instance, did you know that you should occasionally change and wash your bed sheets? And it turns out you are supposed to “sort” laundry by color – go figure! Of course, in my case this idea is fairly academic, since pretty much all my clothing long ago morphed into a sort of uniform camouflage grey.

 

Along with all this laundry room knowledge, she has introduced a chemical compound known as “fabric softener” into my life. This stuff makes everything you wash feel soft and smell “springtime fresh.”

 

And this brings me to my problem. These days when I walk into the pub, all the other guys catch one whiff of my clean shirt and start calling me “Patsy,” and asking me if my husband can come out to play. Guys are supposed to smell like guys, not some flower-covered hillside from ‘The Sound Of Music’.

 

To add insult to injury, I come from a typical male “no pain, no gain” background, and I just can’t get used to the idea of using towels after a shower that don’t sort of sand a few layers of skin off me – especially the “naughty bits,” if you know what I mean.

 

I’m afraid to complain to my woman about this. I had to sleep in the tool shed for three days after I suggested that the living room floor actually was the best place to store my muddy boot collection. As a result, I end up not using the towels and walking around half-dried. And you know what that means . . .

 

Please help me Dr. Mike!

 

Signed,

 

Chafing in Connecticut

 

Dear Chafing,

 

Wow, that is a problem, and not an easy one to solve. One possibility would be for you to quit taking showers. This would resolve both of your problems at once – you would avoid using towels altogether, and no April-fresh scented shirt is going to overcome a couple of weeks of good old manly pit sweat.

 

The downside to this plan, of course, is that unless your woman has a severe head cold or no nose at all, you’ll find yourself either in the shower or back out in the tool shed before you know what hit you.

 

An alternative to deal with the good-smelling shirt thing would be to get all new male friends. Gay ones. Hang around with guys who will appreciate it if you don’t show up smelling like feet. I suggest hairdressers, interior designers or Republican congressmen.

 

As for drying those naughty bits of yours, I’m afraid you’re on your own. Maybe you should just walk bow-legged from now on.

 

If you have critical life issues to deal with, and you would like advice from a professional village idiot, send your questions to mike@drfunnyguy.com.

 

Copyright © 2008, Michael Ball. Distributed exclusively by North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

 

Click here to talk to our writers and editors about this column and others in our discussion forum.

 

To e-mail feedback about this column, click here. If you enjoy this writer's work, please contact your local newspapers editors and ask them to carry it.

 
This is Column # MB063.  Request permission to publish here.
Op-Ed Writers
Eric Baerren
Lucia de Vernai
Herman Cain
Dan Calabrese
Alan Hurwitz
Paul Ibrahim
David Karki
 
Llewellyn King
Gregory D. Lee
David B. Livingstone
Nathaniel Shockey
Stephen Silver
Candace Talmadge
Jamie Weinstein
Feature Writers
Mike Ball
Bob Batz
The Laughing Chef
David J. Pollay
Business Writers
Cindy Droog
D.F. Krause