We Should Probably Talk About Mansplaining

“Mansplaining” is not a new word to our cultural lexicon. I think the first time I heard it was around 2011, and it’s probably been around a lot longer than that. But I still hear it quite a bit today, so it looks like it’s here to stay. And for a long time, I’ve had an idea to write a post about it. But things got busy, and I’ve taken on new pursuits, so I kind of put it on the backburner. But lately I’ve noticed some new developments in the culture such that it’s called me out of blog-post retirement to write this article.

First of all, let’s agree on an operant definition. Since I don’t feel like looking it up, I’m just going to give what, in my experience, people seem to think mansplaining is: Basically, it’s when a man explains something to a woman in a way that’s condescending and underestimates the woman’s expertise and knowledge, while simultaneously (and theoretically) elevating the man’s knowledge, etc.

Got that? Okay, now let me take a few minutes to give you some hypothetical examples of mansplaining. We’ll do this through an imaginary character whom we’ll call “Michelle.”

… That name is too long. Let’s call her “Meg.”

Anyway, Meg was a mechanic for 10 years. Over this time, she honed her craft in a male-dominated field. Eventually, she leaves the garage and becomes an engineer. Right away, she becomes the only woman in an office of men, almost all of whom are much younger and/or have much less experience than Meg. Of course she receives a lot of guidance and explanation, which isn’t surprising since this is a new field for her. But as time goes on, it becomes clear to Meg that there’s more to it than just “teaching the new girl.” Even when she has ideas that come from her experience, they’re second-guessed by her co-workers. When co-workers explain things, it’s often not explained in a respectful manner: “Okay, this is never going to work.” “Okay … the way you designed this is not optimally effective.” And the thing is … they’re wrong. Meg knows this from experience working in the garage. 

Time goes by. Soon, Meg is no longer the new girl. She’s learned the ins and outs of the job. But things haven’t changed. When she has input during meetings, her ideas are greeted by her male co-workers with stony silence and then ignored. People often interrupt her when she’s talking. Even co-workers who only started a few months ago try to give their ideas and opinions first. When Meg receives client feedback on her performance, she sometimes gets comments like “Typical woman engineer,” and her results seem lower than her male counterparts despite that her work quality is often equal, or sometimes better.

Meg does have a few female co-workers. They treat Meg differently. They ask for her advice, follow it, and are appreciative of her experience. But at the same time, they’re often quick to defer to the authority of their male co-workers. 

Life at home has its own struggles. Meg lives with both her husband and father-in-law while raising a young son. Every bit of input she has in regards to child-rearing is disregarded or viewed with skepticism. Often this puts her in a difficult position: For example, when the men in her family disregard the importance of putting the baby in a car seat, Meg is faced with the difficult position of either submitting, or becoming so assertive as to be labeled a bitch by her family. Both in and out of work, Meg’s solutions and input are viewed as flawed, while that of her male counterparts is taken as valuable.

Okay, got all that? Now reverse the genders. Also forget that it’s an engineering job. Because that’s been my experience. I’m Meg.

Now some of you are probably wondering how I navigate this environment, and that’s a topic for a whole other article. But what I wanted to point out here is that I think the idea of “mansplaining” is fallacious. In fact, I’d go so far as to say we’re being gaslit.

Look, I don’t like to complain about feminism or what-have-you. I don’t think complaining  is productive as a general rule. And really, I think the majority of feminists, whether men or women, have their hearts in the right place. (Whether they’re correct or not is something that needs to be evaluated on a case-by-case basis.) But, as in any sub-group in society, there is a small but impactful percentage that have malign motives which poison the well-meaning thoughts of the majority. They have no regard for the consequences of their actions so long as it serves them in the short term or helps fuel their spite. And I suspect that’s what’s going on here. A sort of boogeyman is being cooked up to demonize another sub-group.

Because as I got thinking about it, I began to think of all the jobs I’ve had in my life: grocery retail, juvenile rehabilitation, manufacturing, military, education … and I’m hard-pressed to think of any textbook examples of mansplaining in any of them. Sure, there have probably been a few, but for each of these, there have been an equal or greater number of instances of “womansplaining.” And that’s what it’s really about. It’s not mansplaining or womansplaining. It’s being condescending, and that’s something that every kind of person is guilty of–and which shouldn’t be placed solely on the shoulders of men.

“You want to kick him right here. In the jaw. Trust me, I know from experience.”
Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

Okay, so what spurred me to talk about this now? It’s a recent trend that I’ve noticed in the education sector: Nowadays, when it comes to classroom material, there’s a drive to insure that men are not portrayed as giving advice or as “the keepers of knowledge.” I’m not making that up. If, for example, a scenario in a foreign-language textbook has a male telling a female how to get to the store, or explaining a piece of information, then that’s a no-go. Look, I get it: We don’t want girls to, every time they open a book, see before them depictions of themselves puzzling and drooling over solving the most basic of tasks going, “Dur, I’m not so good at the lernin!” But first: Has that ever been a problem? That’s an honest question, I don’t really know. I never really noticed. But second: Yeah, we don’t want girls seeing that … and we also don’t want boys seeing that, either! Now, the counter-argument here might be, “Yes, but traditionally boys have always seen themselves portrayed as competent decision makers, so we have to balance things out.” But does that really solve things? If we continue down this road of pillorying men for offering solutions and advice, then we can expect one of two possible outcomes: 1. Boys so fully buy into the portrayal of themselves as toxic, opinionated, and often just outright wrong, that they end up like beaten dogs, bereft of a sense of self-worth and direction. Trust me, I see this on a fairly regular basis, it happens. 2. Boys go the complete other direction. They think, “Hey, if everyone is telling me to keep my ideas to myself, then to hell with ‘em, I’m going to become the most braggadocious, johnson-swinging man that I can be.” And yes, we’re seeing that, now, too. And neither of these outcomes is good.

So what are we to do? Well … that’s kind of the hard part, and I really don’t have a great answer. But I think the first thing is to be aware of this gaslighting. Don’t be afraid to offer input, provided you do so in a sincere manner. If someone has a problem with that, then they’re free to ignore your advice. But also, guys … for goodness sake, stop buying into this nonsense. There’s nothing worse than a guy who throws his fellow man under the bus just for an approving nod from the women of TikTok. Hell, some of the witchfinder generals of the mansplaining inquisition or are other men. We need to get out of the habit of self-flagellating every time someone accuses us of mansplaining.

Can we be condescending with our opinions and explanations? Sure. Is it only men? No. Should we punish and hamstring ourselves because of it? Certainly not. You know, I’ve heard people say we should avoid applying negative stereotypes that are exclusive to women. Things like bossiness, or nagging. After all, men sometimes are guilty of those same things, right? Well, if so, then maybe we should think about applying this guideline when circumstances are inverted. Maybe we should avoid labeling arrogance as “mansplaining” if it isn’t exclusive to men.

There for a Reason: The Importance of Following Age Recommendations on Toys

It’s been a LONG time. But that’s because I’ve got lots of other projects I’m working on these days–most notably looking for agents/publishers for my book. Spoiler alert, I’ll likely have to self publish; it turns out that, for all their proclamations of righteousness, a lot of these exalted New York agents don’t care that much about books for boys with reading difficulty. (Or maybe my book is just poorly written, but the former excuse is a lot easier to complain about.) In any case, I’ll probably do a little promotion on this blog when it’s available. However, I figured this is one of those tips that are extra important, so here it is. 

If you’ve ever looked at baby toys, you might notice that some of them say “Not for children under 3,” or something to that effect. Now, often the reason for this is pretty obvious: for example, the toy might contain small parts that a young child can choke on, or it might contain potentially dangerous objects (as is the case with the Fisher-Price “Sack-o-Knives”). But other times you might see this label on a toy that, by all logic, seems pretty much kid proof. But trust me: there are reasons, as I discovered.

The “Li’l Explorer” Junior Lament Configuration

For her first Christmas, I bought my daughter a little electronic toy dog. You flip a switch and it barks and wags its tail. It’s adorable, and my daughter loved it. She especially loved biting its snout as though the puppy were a homeless man and she was a bath-salts-addled drug fiend. But anyway, it was cute. Never mind that sometimes she’d grab it and disarticulate its various moving parts so that the doggy eventually became crippled, still barking happily as it limped across the playmat to have its face chewed. 

Then one day Tails McTastyface fell from a shelf on which he was resting. The shock of the fall caused the battery … battery … cover? Battery holder? Anyway that plastic thing that you open to get at the battery–that thing popped open and the battery tumbled out, at which point my daughter immediately tried to put it into her mouth. 

Now look, I’m not the smartest guy in the world, okay? Sometimes things don’t really click. I learned just the other day that document clips have those weird-looking handles so you can hang them off push pins. But anyway, the moment that battery popped out, I realized why so many children’s toys have battery covers that are fastened into place by screws that are a real pain to get out and WHY CAN’T THEY JUST PUT NORMAL BATTERY COVERS ON THESE THINGS? Well, because they won’t pop open if the toy falls off the shelf, that’s why. 

So needless to say, Tails was taken out of the playpen and given a retirement home on the mantel in my computer room, where it watches me type this even now with those coal-black staring eyes. The eyes that stare into infinity. The eyes that promise both glory and madness …

“I’d like to return this toy. It keeps saying, ‘burn them all.'” “Sir, this toy doesn’t have a talking feature.”
Photo by Tetyana Kovyrina on Pexels.com

What was I talking about? Oh, right. So since then, I’ve sort of become more attuned to safety issues on toys. For example, a pop-up book might have pieces that can be easily torn off and stuffed in the mouth. An item with a thin, rigid piece of plastic can crack into small shards that can cut or … be stuffed in the mouth. A toy with a little string from which dangles a butterfly can be pulled off and then … stuffed in the mouth.

The bottom line: toys have age guidelines for a good reason, even if it’s not immediately clear. (Or, in the case of Tails, quite clear unless Daddy is a knucklehead). Even some toys that are geared for very young children might still have unforeseen dangers, like my daughter’s fabric book that has images covered in a crinkly, shiny film that can be bitten off and eaten. So take those age recommendations seriously and always be watchful of your child.

A Beginner’s Guide to Backing in a Car

I have a confession: I lived for 42 years without knowing how to back a car into a parking spot. Like everyone who has some kind of life problem, I don’t blame myself; rather I blame the world I live in. You see, I was lucky enough to live most of my life in areas where I didn’t have to drive OR where parking was ample and spacious enough that, if I did drive, there was always a parking spot available where I could simply just pull in, front first. But now that I live in a country with much less space and parking, backing in has become a necessity. And while there are many online guides for how to do this, I’ve found that they’ve all been a bit short of useful, for various reasons. So if you want something done right … 

Definition

So let’s get the definition straight. “Backing in” is also known as “reverse-bay parking,” “parking in reverse,” and probably some other things too that I’m too lazy to look up. It consists of moving into a parking space backwards: with the back of your car leading the way instead of the front.

Why Backing In is Important

This might not be as evident as it first seems. I always thought the big advantage to backing in is that you end up with your front facing out, so it’s easier to leave the parking space. But I always figured that it was easier to back out than back in, so never gave it much thought. 

Well, I was wrong. That was only a side advantage of backing in. The main reason is a bit more complicated, and deals with physics, and turning radiuses, and all that. But all you need to know is this: It’s really hard to pull into a parking space front-first if there are cars on either side of it. You need a lot of room to be able to sweep in a big arc and approach the space almost head on, or else you’ll hit one car or the other. But you can back in to pretty much any parking space as long as it’s as wide as your car. Don’t ask me why, that’s just how it is.

Why This Guide?

When I was learning to back in, all of the guides sounded something like this: “Make sure your car is about 5 feet away from the cars on your right. Pull forward until the bumper of the car that’s two in front of the space you want to back into is in the little triangle part of your rear window. Next …” 

Okay, I can’t remember all that when I’m trying to avoid hitting parked cars/pedestrians, and the car behind me is waiting whilst the driver is glowering. Additionally, the reference points can be a little different according to your vehicle’s turning radius. This guide will (hopefully) give you a simple method for backing in almost any car. 

Now, it might not be pretty–you probably won’t be able to back in in a single attempt. You might have to do a bit of maneuvering. Also, it might be tricky to park if there’s a car parked immediately next to your lane (which sounds weird, but happens more than you’d think in some countries). But this will give you the basics.

Parking on the Right or on the Left?

When you back in, it makes a little bit of difference which side the driver’s seat is on. In every country I’ve driven in, the driver’s seat is on the left side of the car, and people drive on the right side of the road. So to avoid confusion, that’s going to be how I phrase this guide. If you live in a place where it’s the opposite, well, just swap “left” and “right.” 

Now, it’s a bit trickier to park when the parking space is on your right. That’s because those few meters between you and the right side of the car can do a lot to mess with your spatial perception. And the bad news is that, since you drive on the right side of the street, guess which side you’ll be parking on the majority of the time?

The good news is that, with this guide, it won’t be too hard to figure out. And once you can park on the right, parking on the left will be that much easier.

The Guide

Okay, here we go. First, let’s set the scenario. Below is a picture of the place you want to park. Your car is, of course, the red one. I’ve labeled the front and back as reference points.  

1. Turn on your right turn signal to let people know you’re going to park. In some countries, they turn on their emergency flashers instead. Optional: Turn on rapper Juvenile’s 1999 hit “Back that Azz Up.”

2. As in the picture below, drive forward until your rear bumper is lined up with the left side of car B. It might be a little difficult to gauge where, exactly, your rear bumper is, since you’ll be sitting with your back to it, separated by literal tons of steel, glass, and upholstery, but give it your best guess. Make sure to look out your right windows to get a better estimate.

*Note: This position is not, actually, ideal for backing in in a single attempt. The reason I’m recommending this position is because I find it helpful for breaking down the process in an easy-to-understand system.

*Note 2: When gauging your distance, it’s better to not go far enough, than to go too far forward. If you go too far forward, backing in  will put you on a collision course with the front bumper of Car B. That’s not the end of the world, but it will mean that you’ll have to go back to your starting position, back up a little bit, and start the whole process over.

3. 
   A. Shift into reverse.
   B. Turn your steering wheel all the way to the right.
   C. Slowly begin backing up. 
   D. At this point, look out your right rear window to keep an eye on Car B. Make sure you can see the left front corner of the car (in other words, the entire front of Car B.) This lets you know without a doubt that you’re not going to hit it. 

*IMPORTANT NOTE: Although I’ve told you to look out your right rear window, that’s only the main focus of your attention. However, during the entire parking process, you should always be looking in all directions periodically to make sure there are no people walking, cavorting, traipsing, or cha-cha-ing around your vehicle. Always have your head on a swivel!

At this point, the situation should look like this:

The good news: You’re done worrying about Car B. The bad news: the trickiest part is next. The good news about the bad news: It’s still not that hard. Let’s break it down.

4. Look at your left side mirror as you back up. (Again, while doing so, always take time to look around you, especially your rear-view mirror, to make sure no one is hanging around your car.) At this point, you’ll probably only see about half of Car A’s front. You might not even be able to see it all. This can be a bit unsettling, but don’t worry. Slowly keep backing up. Little by little, Car A’s left front will come into view.

Now this is the part that takes a bit of spatial judgment. You see, at this point, your car is on a collision course with Car A. If you keep backing up, you’ll likely hit it. Don’t worry. Keep backing up until you feel like the back bumper of your car is starting to get close to the front bumper of Car A. Definitely err on the side of caution, here. It’s worse to go too far (and hit Car A) then to not go far enough. 

Here’s what the situation will probably look like about now:

5. 
   A. Shift the car into drive.
   B. Turn the wheel all the way to the left.
   C. Slowly pull forward. Eventually, your car will straighten out and look a little like this:

And at this point you’re almost home free!

Except, depending on how cautious you were with backing up previously, and how close the opposite row of cars is, you might not have enough room to straighten out. Your situation will look more like this:

No prob, Bob. Just repeat steps 4 and 5 until you’re in the position you want. It might take a little time, and you might feel a bit silly moving back and forth, but you just need enough room to make incremental movements, and soon you’ll be straightened out.

6. Once you’re straightened out, the hardest part is over, but you’re not out of the woods, yet. You have to back in without hitting either Car A or Car B. And how can you be expected to do that, if you don’t have eyes in the back of your head? Sure, you have the rear-view mirror, but that only reveals so much.

Well, that’s what those side mirrors are for. Use ‘em. Use both side mirrors to keep your eye on the sides of your car as you back up. At a certain point, you’ll be almost all the way in (make your own off-color joke here) and can see both cars to your sides, so you probably won’t even need to use your mirrors anymore. At this point, it’s just a matter of making sure you don’t go back too far and hit something behind you. 

7. Congratulations, you’ve done it!

A few other tips:

1. It’s not as intuitive as it seems. The physics of a car’s turning radius are different from a lot of other things we might back up, like bicycles, R.C. cars, and “dat azz.” So if you feel like you’re in some weird alternate world where things don’t back up like they should, you’re not alone.
   
2. Really crank that steering wheel! I find that it’s best to bring the car to a full stop before turning the wheel. My natural habit is to turn while moving, and when you add forward (or backward, as the case may be) motion to turning, it really complicates the turning radius.
   
3. Use them side mirrors! They’re not just for changing lanes, they’re also for reverse-bay parking. 
   
4. Safety first. Sometimes you can get so caught up in worrying about hitting other cars, that you forget to check for pedestrians. 
   
5. Practice if you feel uncomfortable. Go out late at night to a parking lot where you won’t have to worry about people driving around and causing you undue stress while you’re practicing. Or go to a parking lot with few cars–Nickelback concerts are a great opportunity for this. You might need to bring a couple of boxes, traffic cones, etc. If there aren’t any cars, it’s surprisingly easy to lose track of which space you’re aiming for, and placing some markers around your target can help keep your orientation.

The End!

And that’s how it’s done. Again, keep in mind that this is sort of an amateur’s guide. As you practice this technique, you’ll get more and more used to judging the space, distance, turning radius of your vehicle, etc. Good luck!

The Most Important Piece of Advice for a New Dad

It’s been several months since my last post. That’s for two reasons: 1) I’m busy playing with my 3-month old daughter. 2) I’m working on a book of sword-and-sorcery stories for boys and men who can’t read well. But I think a post is long overdue, so here’s a short (but hopefully useful) one.

Okay, you caught me again. The title was clickbait. There are many pieces of advice that are probably more important than what I’m about to share here. Things like:

• Always put your baby on her back when she sleeps (to reduce the chance of SIDS).
• Don’t clean your baby by putting him in the washing machine.
• Don’t sacrifice your baby to Moloch, the ancient god of the Caananites.
• Don’t lend your baby to the Moldovan Olympic Discus Team to use for throwing practice.
• And many others!

But one of my goals with this blog is to give advice that you might not get anywhere else. And prior to the arrival of my daughter, I studied baby care pretty extensively, but nothing totally prepared me for what to expect when we brought her home. … Not even the book “What to Expect When you’re Expecting: the First Year,” ironically enough. So that’s why I’m writing this.

Left on his own, the little guy will eventually learn to forage for nuts and berries in the wilderness.

Now the thing that no one told me to expect was that … nothing can prepare you for what you’ll experience and feel when you first bring that little critter home. Prior to bringing home baby Ultimate Warrior (that’s her name: “Ultimate Warrior Smith.” It took some coaxing before my wife agreed to it) here’s what I thought: “Other people even less intelligent than I have raised children, so I can do it, too/just follow the advice in the book and you’ll be fine.” Now when we finally brought Ultimate Warrior home, here’s what I thought: “HOLY CRAP I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING THIS BABY IS GOING TO DIE IN A POOL OF HER OWN FILTH WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO”

Really. All that advice in those books went right out the window. According to the book, it was as easy as: 

• “If she cries, she’s either hungry, lonely, or needs a diaper change,” and
• “To change your baby’s diaper, simply put down the new one first, fold up the old one underneath, wipe her from front to back, throw away the old diaper, and fasten the new one, folding down the top to make room for the umbilical stump.” 

But it turned out that half of the time we had no idea why Ultimate Warrior was crying (we still don’t, but we think it was due to indigestion), she was starting to get a rash on her bottom because we weren’t changing her diaper right (apparently), and she kept falling asleep while breastfeeding, so my wife had to spend 2 hours per feeding session. Any information we found on the internet didn’t seem to fit with our circumstances. We just had no idea what we were doing or how to do it.

And also, there was tension between us. My wife would often be terse with me. A common thing would be for her to say: “Give me that thing there,” then get impatient when I had no idea what she was talking about. This would lead to my rejoinder, “Could you possibly be less specific?” Long story short, it was tense.

“Which thing? The pacifier or the propane torch?”

So how did we solve it? Believe it or not, that’s not important to you. You see, I could give you some advice, but every baby’s situation is a little (or a lot) different from other babies’, and your situation as a parent is different from other parents. You can find some guidelines and advice, but it’s likely it won’t fit with your circumstances. But, by trial and error, you’ll figure something out. In our case with the diaper, my wife put together this system of actually putting down puppy pads (laugh if you want) on the changing table, then holding the baby above the sink while she splashes slightly warm water on her bottom in order to clean away the poop. I don’t think it’s advice you’ll find in any parenting book, but she figured it out through trial and error. With the baby’s crying, we discovered that sometimes breast milk seemed to cause a bit of indigestion, so we learned certain routines for optimal positioning following her feeding times, and how to use formula to supplement her meals. The specifics aren’t important. But here’s what is:

You’ll figure it out. There will be moments of chaos and confusion. You’ll think to yourself at times “Is it too late to take back my decision? Can I maybe find someone who’ll trade this baby for a Playstation 5? Am I going to have to change my son’s name to Sue then leave my wife, like in that Johnny Cash song?” But it’ll work itself out. You just need to be patient. Now, that’s easier said than done. Actually, I suspected this would be good advice early on, but to my wife, even a simple ear infection seemed like the end of the world. And that’s to be expected, too. In other words, don’t sweat it too much, and also don’t sweat it when your wife tells you you’re an insensitive clod (yeah I said “clod,” what are you gonna do?) for not worrying.

Now here’s some bonus advice. Be patient with your wife. She might snap at you a few times, but keep in mind that usually a woman doesn’t carry another human inside herself for 9 months, then try pushing it out of a body opening the size of a silver-dollar pancake at Denny’s, unless there’s some degree of love for you. At the same time, don’t forget to stand up for yourself when necessary. Just because your wife is stressed doesn’t mean it’s okay for her to be disrespectful when you’re trying to help. Now, how you stand up for yourself requires strategies that need an entire article by itself to cover, so you’ll just have to trust your good judgment for now.

Oh, and the same thing goes the other way. When that baby won’t stop crying, it’ll frazzle your nerves. So you’re going to have to dig deep into those patience reserves and keep your cool. And don’t get mad at the kid! You know, the natural reaction to a whining, screaming kid is, “Stop being such a punk!” but keep in mind that babies haven’t even learned how to be punks, yet. All they know is that they’re uncomfortable, and crying is the only way they can tell you. 

Another bonus tip: do the dishes. I don’t know if it’s ingrained in our DNA, or if it’s social conditioning, or what, but my wife is just naturally better with the baby than I am. For that reason, she does the majority of the dirty work when it comes to the baby. (Also, she’s breastfeeding, and I don’t lactate, so …) But that doesn’t mean I can’t be helpful. I take on any job I can to help ease her workload. That means doing the dishes, cooking, sweeping, or beating The Gimp with a canoe oar when he forgets that he’s MEANT TO BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD, DAMMIT!

So bottom line? Give it your all, hang in there, and keep a cool head. It’ll all work out. And does Denny’s even have silver-dollar pancakes?

COVID and a Pregnant Wife

A couple of weeks ago, I came down with a little cough. And then a slight headache. Long story short, I had COVID. Though I didn’t get told for sure, I’m pretty sure it was the omicron variant because, for me, it was pretty much a walk in the park. I’ve had colds worse than that. However, my very pregnant wife also got it, and, while things are okay now, there were a few things that might be helpful for any other men out there with pregnant wives … or wives who are pregnant and stumble across this article!

Of course, a disclaimer: This is only information I’ve garnered through my own experiences. (In fact, that was one of the frustrating things with this whole ordeal—being quarantined meant my access to advice and information was pretty limited!) So view it as such. Okay, let’s go.

YOU Can Get It

First, what you’re all wondering. Did I get vaccinated. Yes, I did. Vaxxed and boosted. I got three shots. I wore the mask when I went out. And during the incubation period, all I did was go out a handful of times to a cafe or restaurant.

And … a karaoke room. I’m pretty sure that’s where I got it, using the mic that countless other people had placed their filthy, sullied hands upon …

But anyway, the point is, if you’re concerned about COVID, then be careful. You can get it even if you’re cautious.

Or, on the other hand, you could just say, “Eff it, I’m going to get it no matter what I do,” and do what you want. However, seeing as how I had a pregnant wife to think about, I would have and should have been more vigilant, I think. Probably shouldn’t have done karaoke.

And what about that vaccine? Well, I don’t have a crystal ball, so who’s to say. Maybe it was useless. Or maybe it prevented me from getting a worse version of it. I don’t really know. I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.

It’s More Dangerous for the Baby than a Cold

Don’t panic too much, and also keep in mind that I’m not a doctor, so double-check all this information. But, according to my research, just the fact that a woman has A cold or cough isn’t too much of a risk for the pregnancy. However, there are two main risks with COVID.

One is that it can potentially lead to premature birth. In our case, my wife was far enough along that this wasn’t a big deal (the baby is due 8 days), but had we gotten it earlier on, it could have been worse.

Also, keep in mind that pregnancy can be pretty taxing to women and their immune systems, so that means that they’re more vulnerable to serious symptoms of COVID. In fact my wife, whom I’ve only seen get sick once in the 6 years I’ve known her, took it a bit harder than I did.

And just as a side note, most of the information above can be found at the Mayo Clinic’s website, here.

Now what really concerned me was COVID’s accompanying fever. According to What to Expect When You’re Expecting, a pregnant woman should call the doctor if she has a fever of 100, and go to the doctor if she has fever of 101. Fevers can be bad news for babies, and, while I didn’t get a fever, my wife did. More advice on that later.

Even if the mother handles the virus like a champ, you have to consider quarantine regulations in your area. In my part o’ the world, we had to be placed in quarantine for a week, and we were lucky we didn’t have any problems during that time.

In the Event of a Fever

As I mentioned, call the doctor if this happens. That being said, here’s how we handled it.

First, use Tylenol. IMPORTANT: use Tylenol, NOT aspirin and NOT ibuprophen … ibuprofren … come on here, spellcheck, help me out … ibu—that other kind. They all have different ingredients in them, and only Tylenol (which uses acetaminophen) is recommended for pregnant women (henceforth referred to in this document as “preggos”.) Even then, I recommend using it conservatively and carefully, following directions on the label and your doctor’s recommendations. In fact, it might be worth talking about this sort of thing with the doc beforehand, in case the problem pops up.

Second, work on reducing personal body heat. My wife put up an argument when I told her she should take off the fuzzy vest she was wearing in the house, and then when I brought up and showed her information that recommended this as a fever countermeasure, she agreed, which is the closest I’ll ever get to her saying, “You were right, Dear.” (I’ll take what I can get.) We also turned off the heat. Finally, I got a towel, soaked it in cold water, wrung it out, and placed that on the preggo’s forehead. She also had the idea to put one on her belly, and I don’t know if that was helpful or not, but it didn’t hurt. These towels, by the way, actually ended up getting warm, at which point, I re-wet them. The cold water made them … well, cold once again and ready for re-use.

We were fortunate in that my wife’s fever only lasted about 30 minutes, and never approached danger levels. It did come back a bit the next day, but a little more Tylenol did the trick.

And That’s about It.

I don’t think I’m missing too much else. Bottom line, while you don’t have to lock yourself in a nuclear bunker, do be aware that COVID can involve a few more complications than your basic cold, and be mindful of it when going about your day-to-day business. In the event you do get the coof, make sure you read up on what to do and talk with the doctor when possible. And make sure you keep an eye on Mom’s temperature to avoid those nasty fevers. Here’s wishing you good health!

Zoom Etiquette

In this article, I give the tip for dressing in a suit when you do a Zoom interview (formerly known as a “Skype interview”). Well, the other day I attended an actual wedding via Zoom, and what I observed prompted me to write this short article.

Now, the rule of thumb is this: Whenever you do something on Zoom (or Skype. Or Google Meet. Or MS Teams. But let’s face it, you’re going to be using Zoom, aren’t you?) you should behave exactly like you would if you were there in person. That means camera on, appropriate attire (at least from the waist up), and sitting attentively. When I was “at” the wedding, however, of the 16-or-so people on Zoom, only 3 (counting me) had their cameras on, and only 1 (counting me) was wearing clothes suitable for the occasion. So let’s break this down.

What You Should Do

1. Turn on your Camera

Some people have good reason for keeping their cameras off: They don’t want to be a distraction. However, you should think of it this way: If you’re camera isn’t on, then you’re not there. If your camera is off, no one knows what you’re doing and, as people are inclined to do, they’ll assume the worst: that you’re in the kitchen making a sandwich, or masturbating to NSFW Stephen Universe fan art. In Asia, sometimes people can be very self-conscious about their appearance, or even the background of their houses (more on that in a sec), but this still isn’t a valid excuse. Your presence was requested, and it’s your presence that you’re obligated to give. Cowardice is no excuse for ignoring your obligations.

2. Remove Distractions (as best you can)

As someone who teaches on Zoom a lot, I like it when an attendee’s young child comes by to look, or when a cat comes to visit; I find it breaks the monotony a bit and adds a little levity to the lecture. But some people get distracted easily. Most of my readers probably don’t have kids, but there can be any number of other distractions, too, so try to make your environment free from these.

If possible. The reality of it is not all of us have access to our own, quiet, wi-fi spaces, so if the public library is the only place available, and if Peter the Hobo is sheltering there from the snow and happens to walk by in the background whilst itching his junk, then so be it.

pikachu69: someone please tell the groom his fly is open

Also, consider the décor around you. Maybe if you’re attending a wedding, you should do something about that Heavy Metal poster—the one with Tarna riding the bird and holding up her sword—that’s on the wall behind you. If possible, try to set your computer so there’s a relatively blank wall in the background.

ALSO: Note that Zoom has a feature that allows you to blur your background! Tinker around with Zoom a bit or search for a tutorial on the internet. It’s a useful thing to have.

3. Actively Listen

Most people probably won’t be watching you, but they might, and if they are, they’ll appreciate it if you’re paying attention. Again, act just like you would in real life. If you went to a wedding, would you get out a newspaper and start reading during the ceremony? Or start texting on your phone? (Hopefully the answer to both of those is “no.”) On the other hand, would you look attentively at the bride and groom as they say their vows, and clap when they kiss, then cringe a bit when the kiss lasts just a bit too long and the groom starts squeezing the bride’s rear? Well, then do that on Zoom. If you’re listening to a lecture, then give an occasional nod to let the instructor know you’re listening—they’ll appreciate it. I know I do when I head Zoom classes.

4. Don’t Forget Your Screen Name

Maybe not quite so important with weddings or classes, but with interviews or meetings, this can be one of those little things that can make the difference between you seeming professional or not. Anyway, take a second to make your screen name look good.

This goes beyond changing it from “Hugh Jass” to your actual name. It also means making sure you don’t show up as “Galaxy S5,” or “Device.” Take a second to actually put your name out there. (Unless, of course, you want anonymity.) Also, while we’re at it, make sure your name is properly capitalized. Nothing says lazy like a person who doesn’t even make the effort to hold down the Shift key.

Why it Matters

Okay, but why should you care? Well, if you don’t know, maybe you should read a bit more of this blog. But let’s review anyway.

The first reason is, of course, because it’s just common courtesy. Any time you’re in attendance at an event, you want to give the person or people at the center of the event your attention. In the case of the wedding, it was a special day to my friend, and I figured that his seeing me well-dressed and paying attention would let him know that I cared. As I mentioned above, if it’s a class or lecture, it helps the presenter feel appreciated. Let me tell you, there’s nothing worse than giving a presentation on Zoom with the intent of helping someone, just to see they have their cameras off.

“Such a lovely ceremony. Ooh, ‘Hero Wars’? ‘Only two moves to save the princess’?? *Click*”

But okay, maybe you’re more pragmatic. Maybe you’re saying, “It’s not my responsibility to make other people feel good about themselves.” Well, I’d argue that what goes around comes around, and I’d venture a guess that you probably don’t have very good friendships, but okay, I’ll humor you: “What’s in it for me.” The thing is, people notice this stuff. My friend? He also tends to have a much better job than I, a pretty high position in that job, and connections, as well. So guess what: If he knows of some kind of job opening, or if I need a favor from him and he has to decide how much of his time I’m worth … my attendance at his wedding might just be one of the things that casts the vote in my favor. And I’ve already talked about how wearing a suit during my Zoom interview was essentially responsible for me beating out the other competitors. Bottom line, stellar Zoom etiquette stands out, and sometimes it gets noticed by the right people.

So remember, like in real life, put your best image out there … well, maybe just from the waist up.

Does the Music You Listen to Suck?

One time when I was on a plane, I saw this movie called The Art of Self Defense. It’s about this guy who tries learning karate from a psychotic sensei and … well, I think I landed before I finished the movie. It seemed okay. Anyway, at one point, the protagonist’s instructor tells him that he should only listen to heavy metal, as it’s conducive to a more aggressive attitude … or something. I can’t quite remember. Of course, that’s silly, but … there is a kernel of truth to it.

“ARE YOU READY TO … Wait, this isn’t the San Jose Civic Center …”

Okay, a couple of things: 1. Music today mostly sucks. That’s not just me being a grouchy old man; it really does. 2. You like what you like, and that’s okay. A confession: I’m a bit of a closet fan of ‘90s Eurodance. Oh, I don’t advertise it, but sometimes late at night, when I’m all alone, I’ll open up my secret playlist and listen to “Rhythm is a Dancer.” And there’s nothing wrong with that. However, it’s also important to know that 3. You should be able to recognize shitty music when you hear it.

Why? Well … that’s a bit harder to pin down. But let me tell you one of my maxims: “Never trust a man who listens to EDM.”

Now, that’s meant to be a joke. I’ll admit EDM does have its merits and, even if it doesn’t, if you like listening to it, so what. However, again there’s a kernel of truth (our expression of the day) to the above adage. You see, certain kinds of music embody certain attitudes that are important for men to have. Metal and rock (and I suppose rap, at times) tend to espouse a “screw you” attitude: this idea that you’re not going to be pushed around, that you’re a skull-bashing badass ready to bust some heads when the time comes. But when I think of EDM, all that comes to mind is some rich kid in a dance club dropping ecstasy and hoping to get laid. Not exactly a good outlook on life for us to have.

So my point is this: Listen to what trips your trigger, but also be aware of the difference between good music and bad. Hey, music is like cake: sometimes it’s okay to eat it, but if it’s all you eat, you’ll end up sick.

So what differentiates good music from bad? Well, I’m no expert, but I’ve thought about it some, and here’s what I’ve concluded are the things to look (or listen) for.

–Oh, and note that most songs have at least one of these elements in them; that’s not a deal-breaker. But if there are two or more … it might be a crappy song.

1. Shallow Lyrics

There are a lot of things to write songs about. Songs can tell stories, they can make us deliberate on the nature of life, they can make us laugh … or, in the case of a certain song written by one Theodore Nugent, expostulate on the topic of the “wango tango.” But nothing is cheaper than a song in which the writer is so caught up in his or her own reality, that the lyrics fail to extend beyond the range of their own self-centered worlds. Why the HELL would I want to waste my time listening to some schmuck wailing about a fight he had with his girlfriend, or about how his parents don’t understand him? I’m a grown-ass man, and I’ve got other things on my mind. Here a few categories of lyrics that are about as deep as the hasty grave I dug when I accidentally killed the mail carrier the other day and had to hide the body before the neighbors started leaving for work in the morning.

Love/Romance Songs: Yep. Don’t care. When you’re a kid, it’s the most important thing in the world. As you get older, you discover there are many more important things out there than boyfriends/girlfriends, sex (believe it or not, kids!) and whatever.

“Look-how-cool-we-are” Songs: A pop song that centers around the singer being young and traveling the world, partying? A rap piece about how rich the lyricist is? Why should I care? How is does that relate to me?

“Feel-my-pain” Songs: Okay, I get it. Really. Pain, angst, regret … these are powerful emotions we all experience, and sometimes when we listen to songs about them, we can relate, and they can help us cope. I guess. I still have too many problems of my own to care about someone else’s, and there’s a good chance that my problems are bigger.

As I mentioned, though, the above issues aren’t necessarily deal-breakers. Not every song can be a bardic masterpiece; sometimes we want something that’s just fun. I mean, you can eat healthy, but every once in a while, you need a piece of cake, right?

Um, that’s … that’s not how you listen to a record, lady.

2. Lack of Real Instruments

Yep, I guess this is just my opinion, but … am I wrong? When I listen to a song, and I hear a drum machine and fake claps or snaps in the background, all I can think about is some out-of-touch sixty-something with a bad haircut and an ugly sweater playing on a keyboard for the church youth group and trying to be “cool.” This sort of thing has never been cool. It never will be cool.

And that goes for techno, or EDM, or whatever. I’ll admit I do like listening to some techno once in a while, and it does take some technical mastery and musical know-how to put these songs together, but playing an actual instrument beats playing a computer any day of the week.

3. Auto-Tuned Vocals

Sounds like clown shit.

4. Cheesy Lyrics

More on lyrics. Sometimes everything can be good about a song, but there’ll just be one or two lines that make you cringe. What do I mean by that? Well, a good example is the song Thor, by Manowar. It’s a pretty solid song with some pretty hard riffs. It’s all about, as you can guess, the Norse god, Thor. Some might argue that’s shallow subject matter, but I think anything about mythology, etc., is good song material … I mean, these are parts of the stories and legends that shaped our world, right? Anyway, if you listen to the lyrics you’ll hear this:

God of thunder, god of rain,
Earth-shaker who feels no pain.

Okay, so far, so good. Even seems to employ the literary technique known as kenning, found in many works of scaldic poetry.

The powerhead of the universe,

… Hm, okay.

Now send your never-ending curse.

Wait, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure Thor doesn’t curse people. That sounds more like the domain of ancient Egyptian mythology. Whatever. Let’s keep listening.

Thor, the mighty, Thor the brave,

Okay, sounds good so far.

Crush the infidels in your way.

Wait, wait … “infidel” is what the Saracens called the crusaders. I guess it could be applied here but … makes me feel like Manowar really didn’t think this one over. Moving on:

Swing your hammer to crack the sky,

Badass.

Lift your cape so that you might fly.

Huh? Where did they pull this verse from? Since when does Thor have a cape? And since when can he fly? I … I think they’re getting the Norse god mixed up with the ‘80s version of the Marvel superhero.

You get the idea. Cheesiness is subjective, and one could probably write a whole article about it, but we’ll leave it at that for now.

5. Pretentious Artists

You’ve heard the expression “Judge the artist, not the art,” right? (If you haven’t, you have now.) There’s some wisdom to that, but sometimes it’s B.S. Sometimes you just can’t look past the fact that the singer is a douche-hat.

Case in point: U2.

Look, U2 makes damn good music. Some have called them “The Band of the ‘80s,” but even well past that, they kept making some great tunes. Achtung Baby was a brilliant album. And yet, here we have Bono, telling us that we need to make the world a better place while he funnels his money to foreign banks to avoid paying taxes, all while making deals with (was it Apple?) to load up customers’ phones with with U2 music sans the customers’ permission.

Or there’s Marroon 5. Friggin’ Adam Levine. I don’t know if they’re still a big band, but man do they suck. Their music is perfectly acceptable; they play their own instruments, and pretty well. Sure, it’s shallow pop, but whatever. But then you have Levine acting all edgy, with his bad-ass tats, lacing his pop songs with profanity–which is fine if you’re Cannibal Corpse, but pretentious as all hell if you’re a family-friendly pop band. Rule: Unless you can take an average guy off the street and not lose to him in a fight, you can’t say “fuck” in your songs.

Rage Against the Machine? Yeah, man! Rage! Against the machine! (Unless the machine is responsible for you getting thousands of dollars, and agrees with your political views. Then it’s okay.) But while earlier I was kind of railing against shallow lyrics, RATM could due to turn it down a notch or two. Not every song has to be about the evils of capitalism, right? Maybe toss in a few songs about butterflies or something, right?

Finally—this is going to be more arguable—any sort of symphonic metal. Back when it was a new thing, this was pretty cutting edge. But nowadays … just seems overwrought.

And the award for most pretentious song? Sting’s Desert Rose. Just listen to the thing. Every time I hear it, I can just picture Sting, well past the prime of The Police, sitting there saying to himself, “My music is continually evolving. With this one, I shall incorporate roots of Middle Eastern and Arabic music. Yes. I am a very smart artist.” Barf, dude. Go back to singing songs about businessmen summoning the Loch Ness Monster. That was a lot more interesting.

“Hokus, pokus, joker’s ride …”

6. It Tries too Hard

It’s a hallmark of mediocre times when people are so desperate for something new that they just plunge headfirst without taking time to think if they’re actually producing anything worthwhile.

We especially saw this in the early 2000s. On one hand you had the butt-rock bands like Nickelback. These were bands whose whole image was around appearing badass, or like bad boys. It was a desperate attempt to re-create the edginess of ‘80s rock. But somehow it just seemed insincere. Even when the early metal scene started to give way to commercialized hair metal bands, there was still a degree of that original, old-school eff-you attitude there, that just seemed disingenuous in the early 2000s. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but if you know, you know.

On the other hand are a lot of newer heavy metal/death metal bands. Look, I know some of you out there like ‘em, but … it’s too much, man. I mean, it’s like someone said, “Hey … you know what makes cake great? Frosting! So let’s make a cake that’s ONLY FROSTING.” You can’t just scream and growl and expect it to be good art. Lemmy (of Motorhead) had a raspy voice, but it was accompanied by well-written chords and lyrics. More on this later. And on that same note, one thing that just makes me instantly stop listening to any kind of metal is a heavy double bass-drum pedal. My opinion (but I think it’s the right opinion): it’s too much. It interferes with the rest of the music. Nix the double bass.

Finally, let’s take a look at Japanese gimmick band, Baby Metal. I hear a lot of folks being like, “Hey, look at this! It’s little Japanese girls singing metal! Whhaaaat?” Yeah, fine, but you need something beyond a gimmick, and the music just isn’t that good. It’s not bad, mind you, but … we can do better.

There are Always Exceptions

As I hinted at earlier, the above requirements are pretty trustworthy, but sometimes you manage to find a few that don’t fit the mold. A good case in point: old school rap. Look at “My Adidas,” by Run DMC. Not too much instrumentation there, and the song is basically just about shoes. But it’s fun, and the lyrics are clever. So it just goes to show that you can’t put every song or band in the box outlined above.

“So what bands do YOU recommend?”

Okay, since I’m pontificating like I’m an authority, here are some bands that I think fit the bill as “good.”

Note: I know very little about rap or country western, so I’m keeping this strictly to rock.

For me, a good measuring stick of what constitutes a good band is (I mentioned ‘em earlier) Motorhead. Absolutely zero pretentions. Lemmy did not give a damn about anything. Guy was held in high regard up to the moment of his death, yet spent his days in a ratty old apartment building. Lyrics cover everything from western movies to trains to … Hm. Says here there’s a song called “Jailbat.” … Well, we’ll just ignore that one for now, ha ha! Moving on! Anyway, Motorhead’s lyrics are pretty well crafted, with verses like, “Win or lose, nought to choose/All men are equal when their memory fades./No one know, friends or foes/If Valhalla waits beyond the grave.” Good stuff.

But Lemmy has passed on to Valhalla, himself, so what about some recent bands? Well, it ain’t easy finding any, that’s for sure, and you have to dig through a lot of dirt before you find a gem. But here are some ones I’ve found recently that seem pretty decent:

Gatekeeper: Not to be confused with a song of the same name by Jessie Reyez. Anyway, they’re not a very well-known band but check out their album East of Sun. Not perfect, but pretty close. It punches you in the face right away with “The Blade of Cimmeria,” which ends with the unfortunately slightly cringey exclamation “Don’t fuck with the blade!” but beyond that, is completely solid. It then goes into a series of songs that are heavy, but quite a bit different both lyrically and audio…ly… than a lot of things out there. Really surprising and well done. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re still together anymore, but the space-themed band Traveler is made up of some of the same members, I think, and is also pretty good. Recommended songs: “The Blade of Cimmeria,” “Nine-fold Muse,” “East of Sun.”

Eternal Champion: This band is themed around pulp sword-and-sorcery (think Conan the Barbarian). Now, fantasy-themed bands can very easily cross over into the realm of cheese, but Eternal Champion manages to handle it right. Their first album, The Armor of Ire is almost completely good, and their second one, The Ravening Steel, is also pretty good, but just a tad weaker, in my opinion. Anyway, great workout music. Recommended songs: “I am the Hammer,” “A Face in the Glare,” “War at the Edge of the End.”

Gygax: If you had told me, I wouldn’t think it possible. But it’s a Dungeons-and-Dragons-themed band that isn’t cheesy as all hell. Look, I like DnD, but when you start singing about it, you enter a land of cheese that rivals Wisconsin. However, Gygax manages to pull it off with a sound reminiscent of Thin Lizzy and lyrics that pay tribute to the theme source without seeming tacky. Recommended songs: “Lesser Magic,” “The Lascivious Underdark.”

Ghost: Probably the most recognizable band on this list. Now, I really can’t bring myself to listen to Ghost just because their subject matter often involves things like satanism and the like. To be fair, it’s done in a tongue-and-cheek manner; the band’s entire schtick is that it’s this sort of evil church led by an anti-pope, and it’s not meant to be taken seriously. That being said, it just crosses the line a bit too much for my comfort. But, their music is good. I think bands sometimes have to be careful when it comes to gimmicks, but Ghost has legitimately interesting and creative music that justifies it. A really inventive band. Recommended songs: “Square Hammer,” “Rats.”

Wytch Hazel: This is on the other end of the spectrum from Ghost. One of those bands that says they’re not Christian, but actually kind of is. Listen to their music, and you’ll see what I mean. But at the same time, they don’t stumble into the pitfalls that typical Christian music does: Their music manages to be hard and badass, but uplifting without every becoming overly saccharine. Recommended songs: “Spirit and Fire,” “Dry Bones,” “The Truth.”

Buckethead: The most famous artist you don’t know about. He’s most noticeable from his brief stint in post-Slash Guns n’ Roses, but he should be noticeable for the fact that he’s a genius. And that’s not hyperbole. The guy has put out a HUGE number of albums covering all sorts of genres. He also wears a bucket of chicken on his head and twirls nunchucks at his concerts. I could write a whole article about him, but I’ll leave it up to you to investigate. Anyway, as far as I know, his songs are strictly instrumental, but they’re really good. Now the problem here is that his songs cover such a broad spectrum ranging from experimental to traditional, so it’s possible you might love some songs, but hate others. But give him a listen. Recommended songs: “King James,” “Whitewash,” “Lotus Island,” “Soothsayer,” “A Real Diamond in the Rough,” tons of others.

Honorable Mention: Haunt: Haunt is a pretty prolific band these days, but you’ll never hear about them because they don’t really fit the mold of what everyone thinks is marketable. But they’re good. The only reason I don’t wholeheartedly recommend them is because, while their earlier album “Luminous Eyes” was pretty great, I sort of feel like their sound adopted a more Avenged Sevenfold sound after that, which is okay, but nothing I get super excited about. Check ‘em out, though; you might like them.

Encore

Opinions are like asshole, everyone’s got one, but no one cares about yours. And musical opinions are like … musical assholes … I guess. Eh, I’m not going to bother to sort this metaphor out. But my point is this: You might disagree with me, and that’s fine. But whether you agree with my tastes or not, it is important you consider the music you endorse and the mentality associated with it.

The Road to Fatherhood: My Struggles with Male Infertility, and In-vitro Fertilization

As I mentioned some time ago, my wife became pregnant through IVF, or in-vitro fertilization. For us, pregnancy wasn’t the easy task that it is for some people—in fact, it’s been quite likely the most challenging part of my life so far—and carried with it a slew of moral and emotional challenges. But hopefully my burden can be your gain, and my experiences can shed some insight on the process for some of you out there. So in this post, I’m going to describe the process and challenges we went through. This is for any man (or woman, really) who’s having fertility problems and considering IVF.

A quick warning before we begin: It’s going to get a bit religious. And while I occasionally dip my toes in the waters of religion on this site (because being a capable person requires having your heart in the right place) my goal isn’t to proselytize; I’ll leave that to people much smarter than I. No, my goal is just to make guys happier and more successful. But it’s kind of hard, when talking about such a heavy topic as this, to divorce my beliefs from the experience and the advice. I hope that doesn’t prevent those of you seeking advice to turn away. I guess I suggest you just absorb the information that applies to you, and leave the rest, much like the salad bar at Golden Corral, but without as much risk of contracting communicable diseases.

One other warning: Keep in mind that I’m by no means an expert on some of things we’ll discuss. It was a real struggle for me to figure out some of this information. Not only did my work schedule, combined with hospital COVID restrictions, mean that I didn’t get many opportunities to talk with the doctor, we went through this whole process in Korea, and even when Korean doctors can speak English (they’re all supposed to be able to, but …) they’re often not the best at communicating with expats. Hell, my wife once went in for a sudden appendectomy, and the doctor and staff pretty much pretended I didn’t even exist. I’m getting off topic. My point is, the information presented in this post is information that I kind of had to decode through my own research, and so some of it may not be totally correct. Try your best to double-verify anything you read here, please. And that being said, if you find the information either accurate or inaccurate, feel free to leave a comment either validating or refuting it; I’m sure other readers will find it helpful.

Okay, let’s get started.

The Beginning

So let’s start where the difficulties all began. My wife and I had been trying to conceive for almost a year but with no luck. So we went to a specialist and discovered I had bad sperm morphology. Oh—I forgot to warn you about this, too: you’re going to have to hear about my sperm. There’s going to be more talking about sperm than the Clinton impeachment hearings, and if you get that joke, then you’re probably the same age as I am.

Now this was a puzzle for me. First of all, what’s exactly meant by “bad sperm morphology?” Keep in mind this isn’t the same as low sperm count. I had enough sperm, but it was just … messed up, I guess. But as near as I can tell, either the tails weren’t good for propelling the boys, or the heads weren’t shaped in a way as to help them penetrate (gigitty) the egg. I think the percentage of “good” sperm was about 1-2 percent, which meant it wasn’t impossible, just very, very low. I think a typical rate is something like 14 percent, but I’ve heard conflicting information on that, so I suggest researching it yourself, if you’re interested.

So what to do? Well, had I been in my twenties, we could have just bided our time (bid our time?) but because I’m a complete dumbass who bought into the B.S. that I should follow my dreams, that I could be whatever I wanted, and that I was a special snowflake destined for greatness because Mr. Rogers told me so, I spent all those valuable child-rearing years putzing around when I should have been building a family. As it was, my wife was already at the age when a pregnancy would be considered “high risk.” We’ll talk about this a little more later, but in short, that means there are more chances for miscarriages, birth defects, and the like. So we didn’t exactly have time to mess around.

So here’s my first bit of advice to you: If you even think you might want to have kids someday, don’t wait—get started, even if it means you’ll have to put your dreams of becoming the world’s best Diversity and Equity Manager of Starbuck’s Corporate on hold for the moment. (For more thoughts on this, you can read this article HERE.) You might have heard that women have a “biological clock,” and that, if they wait too long, they miss having the opportunity to have children forever. It might have led you to think that this is a problem unique to women, but it’s not. Not entirely. Sure, theoretically men can have kids up until the time their wangers look like drought-ridden green beans, puffing out clouds of dust, but in reality, as time passes, the quality of your sperm can decrease. Notice I said can. I hope yours doesn’t. Was that my issue? I don’t know. We’ll talk about that in a second. But even if your sperm remains grade-A quality until the day you die, you also have to figure that there aren’t a whole lot of women out there, with functional wombs, that are champing at the bit to get themselves filled up with geriatric genitalia … despite what porn might lead you to believe.

So that was my problem. Bad sperm, and not much time to do anything about it. I could have avoided, or at least substantially lessened, the problem had I gotten married earlier, but seeing as how my time machine got broken when I tried to go back and assassinate Hitler, I had to make do.

One potential solution was IVF: in-vitro fertilization. However, I had some ethical qualms about this. Again, I’ll get into more details about this later. Spoiler: I did end up going this route, and I have a wealth of information to share about both the process and ethics, so stay tuned. In any case, I was hesitant. “IVF hesitant,” if you will. So I decided to try to fix my bad sperm.

First of all, understand that this whole thing was a mystery to me. No one else in my family has suffered from fertility problems (I have 7 nieces and nephews—combined, not 7 of each). Any doctors I sought advice from always told me the same things: exercise, and abstain from drugs, which of course, I already did. So I threw everything and the kitchen sink at the problem: I tried abstaining from processed sugar, dairy products, and BPAs. I began exercising every day of the week and doing yoga afterwards, then when that didn’t work, reducing my exercising. I switched from boxer briefs to boxers. I tried oriental medicine. I tried wearing a mask outside (this was before the ‘rona) to filter out chemicals in the air. I tried standing while working on my computer (I thought sitting all day might have a negative effect on my sperm). I tried vitamins of all varieties. Just about everything you can imagine. No luck.

So our next step was to try artificial insemination. That’s when I’d go to the hospital, put my baby batter into a cup, and then they’d somehow put it into my wife. I didn’t see how they did it, but I picture they did so via some crazy-looking gun-like contraption that looks like a ray gun from a 1950s sci-fi movie. In any case, if you’re like me, you’re wondering how that is supposed to get around the issue of bad sperm morphology. Well, I’m still not totally sure, but as I understand it, it helps improve the chances of fertilization by providing a “shortcut” to the sperm so that any potential good sperm cells have less chance to get … I don’t know, lost or stuck in the vagina or something like that. Who knows. Or maybe the doctor was just trying to get our money. In any case, my wife went in for quite a few of these sessions. I want to say about four or so. Now, this process was inconvenient enough for me: I had to take time off from work. But it was even more difficult for her, because, while I just had to go in and punish the one-eyed yogurt slinger for five minutes … okay one minute, she had to take all kinds of medicine and hormones designed to make her produce eggs, and then, on top of it all, get a 1950s mad-scientist sperm cannon rammed into her vagina. Part of that last description might be colored slightly by my imagination—anyway, it wasn’t a walk in the park for her, that’s for sure.

By the way, as a side note, it was at this point I realized just how much my wife loved me. What I haven’t mentioned until this point was the fact that she was kind of neutral when it came to having kids. Based on conversations we’d had, I got the impression that she would have been totally content to live out our married life without children. And yet here she was, going through all of this, without so much as a complaint. It made that time she stayed mad at me for an entire weekend because I forgot to put down the toilet seat, seem like a triviality.

Anyway, all sentimentality aside, suffice it to say that the artificial insemination didn’t do much. By this time, the nurses at the clinic were becoming more familiar with my sperm than my own wife. I got comfortable enough with the situation so as to be able to hand off the vial to them and say things like, “Ahh, white gold!” or wave at it and say, “Good luck, gentlemen! Bon voyage, and don’t forget to take that hard left-hand turn at the fallopian tubes!” I don’t think the nurses understood the joke, but they smiled patronizingly. But we had given it the old college try, and subsequently old college failed. And months before that, I would have said that would be the end of it. I was morally opposed to any other methods of conceiving, and so either we’d have to hope for a miracle baby during the last dwindling years of our fertility, or live out the rest of our lives with just each other, eventually fading from the pages of history. Oh—you might be wondering about adoption. Well, yes, that was indeed a choice as well, but for whatever reason, I just felt really spurred to have a child through pregnancy. (Well, not me being pregnant … you know what I mean.) Does that make me a hypocrite or whatever? Maybe. You can be the judge of that. My job here is just to give you advice about conceiving children.

In any case, artificial insemination seemed to have failed, but we weren’t done yet. No sir, not by a long shot.

But before we move on to part two, first a quick note on bad sperm morphology. You might wondering if bad sperm can lead to birth defects. Well, according to Heidi Murkoff’s book, What to Expect When you’re Expecting, no one is really quite sure. Some sources I’ve looked at have said there’s no connection, others have suggested that there might be. My big worry was that our baby might have Down’s Syndrome. You see, when a woman passes around 40 years of age, the chance of this increases, and it seems to me that doctors aren’t really sure why. Some think it’s due to the mother, but some think it might have to do with the father’s sperm, since older women are more likely to have older husbands. The bottom line is, as I said, no one’s really sure. Anyway, our baby is well into the 2^nd trimester and tests have shown that she’s free of genetic abnormalities. I’ll talk about those tests a bit later, too—that was scary—but my guess about this is as good as yours. Just another reason to not wait too long before you have kids. I mean, the odds are still greatly in your favor that your child will be complication-free even when you’re in your 40s, with sperm that look like tailed raisins, but at the same time, the odds are also just a little bit less in your favor, if you know what I mean.

In-vitro Fertilization

Okay, here’s where things get a bit dicey. Now, I’m not here to judge anyone … Wait, I judge people all the time, don’t I? But that’s because they’re out of shape, wear stupid clothes, and make bad decisions. Anyway, I’m not here to talk ethics, but I’m going to talk about mine a bit and you can agree or disagree as you see fit. But I think the information might be helpful to some. You see, my big hang-up with in-vitro fertilization was this:

… Wait a second, before we get into this, let’s make sure we’re all clear on what in-vitro fertilization is.

In-vitro fertilization, also known as IVF, also known as making test-tube babies (as my wife called it) is when the doctor takes sperm from the husband, and eggs from the mother, and sort of manually unites them. I think there are different methods: In some (as I understand it) they just put them in a petri dish and hope the sperm and egg meet like pimply teenagers at an awkward high school dance, but in some other methods, they actually sort of inject the sperm into the egg, while, I like to think, cackling manically like mad scientists.

So what made me balk at this was the fact that, as I understood it, the mad scientist—I mean “doctor”—would fertilize several eggs, use one of them to put in the mother, then throw the others away like a piece of gubernatorial campaign junk mail. And, while some people smarter than I might disagree, to me that might as well be flushing my kids down the toilet. Well, my wife (did I mention how patient, tolerant, and hard-working she was through this whole process?) did some research, and found that that’s not totally true.

Oh, at this juncture I should point out something else I did that was kind of foolish, but turned out okay in the long run (you might not have the same luck!): I married a woman whose ethics didn’t totally match my own. Now, here you have to balance things. No one is perfect, and it’s possible I could have married a woman who shared my beliefs, but was a total head case, which would have been worse than marrying a woman who didn’t share my beliefs, but was tolerant and loving enough to accept them anyway. So you kind of have to gauge these things carefully. But there were some times when I struggled to explain my views to my wife. So when you’re considering spending the rest of your life with a woman, think about how she might react if you find yourself in situations like mine, if her reaction fits with your ethics or not, and if not, how you’ll handle any differences in viewpoint.

Okay, so here’s how we found out the IVF process actually works. (At least, by my understanding. Again, please double check with your own research!) As I said, they do try to make several embryos. At this point, the parents can choose to have only one placed into the mother, or several of them. If only one is chosen, the rest can actually be frozen and utilized at a later date. … Or you can just throw them away like gubernatorial campaign junk mail.

But let’s back up for a second. First, note that just because a doctor fertilizes an egg (hopefully with your sperm, and not someone else’s) it doesn’t mean that the zygote will become a full-on baby. Some of them just sort of “fizzle out,” as I understand it: the cells fail to develop into baby parts and they’ll never become actual babies. Others, when put into the mother, fail to implant. So keep that in mind. We’ll come back to this later.

Now with that being said, if a couple decides to get multiple embryos put inside the mother at once, that means there’s a chance that all of them could become babies, and she might have twins or triplets. However, with older women, like my wife, there’s usually not a chance that will happen, so doctors sometimes prefer to insert multiple embryos in this case.

On the other hand, if you end up putting your babies on ice, you have to pay a storage fee per embryo. There is a small chance that, when they’re defrosted, the little guys won’t survive the process, so you have to take that in consideration too, but we had one frozen, then implanted a few months later, and it survived the thawing process just fine. There is a fee you’ll have to continue to pay as long as the embryos are frozen. I’m not sure what the fee is in your country, so you’ll have to research that on your own. I know in Korea, you can only keep embryos frozen for up to 3 years, but I believe in America you can actually do it for much longer … maybe even forever? … and you can even have them adopted by other parents, who’ll take on the pregnancy process themselves. This latter item is known as embryo adoption. If you’re interested in this, I believe there’s an organization called “Nightlight Christian Adoptions” that carries it out. I think they also do a lot of other work when it comes to adoptions, so if this is a cause that sparks your interest, check them out.

Alright, back to my wife and I. So we found a fertility clinic with a good reputation, but that was about an hour or so drive away. We figured “go hard or go home,” though, right? So I figured we’d go there, make some mad scientist babies, slip ‘em into my wife, and bada-bing, bada-bang, instant family, right? Well it wasn’t that easy.

One problem that ended up being on my mind was: What if we end up with too many embryos? Like, say we end up with eight? What then? We can’t raise eight kids. I don’t want to throw them away. And unlike America, we can’t put them up for adoption. And, while I have read accounts of this happening, for us it turned out that it wasn’t an issue. (For us–your experience could produce many more embryos, so keep that in mind.) As I said earlier, not every embryo ends up surviving. We did the process, and I think my wife said around eight (or was it 11?) eggs got extracted when she went in. (The doctors gave her some medicine that caused her to super-ovulate, basically.) So all those fertilized eggs, but in the end, only one actually ended up surviving, and it was of poor quality (this is the one we had frozen). And that was kind of heartbreaking for me. Such a waste. But we had gone this far, so it was no time for regrets. Sunken-cost fallacy? Maybe. But this was no time to have second thoughts. So we tried it again.

Keep in mind the time and effort this was taking. At this time I had started my new job, and it was worrisome trying to coordinate these visits to the fertility clinic with my work. It was even more time-consuming for my wife, who used up all her personal days at work traveling to this clinic in a neighboring city. I had no idea it would be this time intensive.

I can’t exactly remember the number of eggs we ended up getting on the second attempt. Maybe eight? Why does that number keep coming into my head? I think it was 11 on one try and eight on the other. Can’t remember. Anyway, the second try only produced two embryos, and those were also of poor quality. So we were left with a total of three.

Note: I want to repeat this: while we only ended up with 3 poor-quality embryos, other people’s results could be quite different. I’ve read accounts of people who end up with a pretty big handful of viable embryos on the first try, so this is also something you need to think about. So while my worrying ending up being for nothing, yours might not be. If having a bunch of extra embryos sitting around, and what to do with them, is an issue for you, you might need to think carefully about if IVF is right for you or not.

So let’s take a minute and break this all down a bit. First of all, the time investment. I think I ended up having to make about two trips to the hospital. My wife had to make quite a lot more, since she had to do all the consultations with the doctor regarding the hormones she had to take, egg extraction, and so on. So that’s something for you to keep in mind.

Now let’s talk about those embryos. I said earlier they were of poor quality or were “low grade.” First of all, one of my concerns about this whole process was what, exactly, doctors do with the embryos if they’re not up to snuff. I thought maybe they’d just throw them away like … well, you know. And I don’t know, maybe some clinics do, but ours didn’t. They used them. From my understanding, they only discard them if there’s no possibility that they’ll survive and develop. As I said earlier, from my understanding (those magic words), the ones that were discarded just stopped growing. Or maybe they continued, but the cells weren’t developing, so there was never a chance they’d become babies. Keep in mind, though, that I’m not an expert, and this was all information I sifted out in a country where I wasn’t a fluent speaker of the language, and where people tend to have a habit of keeping foreigners in the dark about important things anyway, so I encourage you to do your own research on this if it’s a concern.

But what, exactly does that mean if the embryos are of low quality? Basically, it just means that there’s less of a chance they’ll survive. As I understand it, it doesn’t have any bearing on the likelihood your baby will end up coming out as some kind of shrieking, three-eyed mutant that scrambles up and out the chimney the moment it’s born, then takes to the woods where it lives out its days as a misunderstood beast surviving off raw deer it catches with its bare hands. So don’t worry about that part.

Anyway, three embryos, one womb. In the end, only one of them made it, but she had made it, and we got the good news that my wife was officially pregnant.

The NIPT Test

We weren’t out of the woods yet, though. I still had concerns our baby might end up with Down’s Syndrome. As I said earlier, this can be an issue for parents of our age. Granted, it’s still a very small chance, but of course I’m the person who, when it rains, worries about the chance of getting struck by lightning.

Now, I had made up my mind that even if I knew the baby had Down’s Syndrome, I was going to make that baby mine, and raise her (or him—we didn’t know at the time) to be the best Down’s Syndrome kid she could be. I mean, did you ever see that movie The Peanut Butter Falcon? That kid was cool. But I wasn’t so sure my wife was on board.

And again, let me stress the value of marrying someone whose value system aligns with yours. If you’re a younger guy in your twenties, physical attraction is probably pretty high on your list of priorities in a mate. And that’s not totally unwarranted. I mean, let’s be blunt, if you have to look at someone you find physically unattractive every day, it’s going to cause your patience to wear thin. But on the other hand, let me tell you, sex becomes a lot less important as you get older. I know that sounds horrifying to you, but trust me, you won’t miss it once higher priorities—like family building—kick in. So keep this in mind when you have to choose between someone who’s hot, and someone who shares you code of ethics. Fortunately, as I said, my wife is special.

Anyway, my mom used to tell me of how, when I was an unborn baby, the doctor wanted her to have an amniocentesis. This is when they stick a needle in the mother and withdraw some of the amniotic fluid in the womb and test it to find some things out about the baby, like if it has Down’s Syndrome. And oh, there’s a small chance that, uh … well, that the doctor will accidentally stab and kill the baby with the needle, but that sort of thing never happens, haha! In all seriousness, there’s a very, very small chance of that, but it’s there. In any case, my mom always told me that she refused the test because even if I did have Down’s Syndrome, she’d still have me. … And I’ll leave it up to you to decide what the results of that test were.

Well, nowadays instead of an amniocentesis, they have something called a NIPT test, which, long story short, does most of the same things, but doesn’t have the stabby-stabby part. The doctor said this NIPT test was the next step. … And it was expensive! So I thought about this, and about what my mother said, and I ran it by my wife. I said, “You know, why don’t we just skip the test? I mean, even if it does have Down’s Syndrome …” and to my surprise, my wife agreed with me. That was a big relief to know she was on the same wavelength as I.

At this point, let me shift gears for a second. During this whole process, worries about this sort of thing were on my mind. I found myself contemplating worst-case scenarios and what I’d do if they came about. And sometimes I thought that maybe it would have just been better to not try to have a child at all. … But every time I came to the same conclusion: There can be no success without taking risks. We can live our lives in our houses (assuming we somehow have a magical system of making money this way) without every stepping foot outside and meeting anyone, eventually passing away in comfort, being, as I said earlier, lost to the mists of time. Or we can step outside the house, take risks, maybe get in fights and get hurt, but ultimately forge ourselves a destiny. And so I continued on my path, not knowing what challenges I’d encounter or how I’d deal with them, but knowing that the only way to go was straight ahead.

Anyway, a few nights before we got the test results, I was overcome with terror. First of all, the thought that I might end up having to spend the rest of my life taking care of a special-needs human hit me hard. But to my credit, I’m resolute, so I steeled myself to be ready to take on the task if that was indeed, what I was called to do. But also there were comments from my wife that made me think that maybe she wasn’t on the same page as I after all. And I wondered if the biggest threat to our child might actually be my own wife. Well, the thoughts she verbalized actually seemed to go back and forth on the issue during those days, and I think in the end, she was as nervous as I was, and trying to come to terms with it all, but just didn’t want to show it. In any case, I only got a few hours of sleep for those nights, and it was during that time that I realized what true fear was. And let me tell you, whatever you’re going through: difficulty finding a job, girl troubles, it’s trivial compared to what could be. And even in my case, things could have been worse. So keep things in perspective, always.

Well, the day of the test finally came, and we got the results: a healthy little girl.

Further Tests

We had a few more tests. There was one called a neural tube defect test, which basically tested for spina bifida, a cleft palette, and some kind of disorder where the head doesn’t fully develop. And just the other day my wife went in for another ultrasound to make sure the heart, brain, kidneys, etc., are all fine and of course they were. To quote my wife after the test results, “She’s perfect,” to which I replied, “So she takes after her mother, then.” … I thought I’d score some points for that bit of quick thinking, but it kind of went unheard, I think. Oh well.

The Religious Part

As I’ve said, if religion isn’t your scene, feel free to skip this part, but if it is, or if you’re religion-curious, maybe stick around for the encore.

Anyway, through this whole process I really learned to trust more fully in God. Now, a bit of a confession: I’m a fairly logical person, but at times, I can be weirdly superstitious. (And some people would claim that “superstitious” and “religious” are redundant, nyuck, nyuck, nyuck, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.) Specifically, I’ve always held by the belief that the universe loves irony, and that the moment you invest in something is the moment you jinx it to failure. Post on Facebook that you’re looking forward to your plane trip home? That plane’ll crash into the sea, never to be found again. Tell your friends you knocked your algebra test out of the park? You’ll wind up with an F. So the trick, I’ve always thought, is to always expect the worst.

Furthermore, I had never been a big believer in the power of prayer. I thought it was useful as a means of showing devotion, but as far as praying for something you want? Nah. I mean, I remember, when I was younger, fervently praying the rosary for my sister’s husband, who was dying of brain cancer, and you can guess how well that turned out. So I figured if praying didn’t work then, why would it work for anything else? If anything, it almost seemed like praying caused me to get the opposite of what I asked for. What the hell? I didn’t understand at the time, though, that when we pray, we don’t necessarily get what we want—we get what we need. A convenient excuse, skeptics might say, and small consolation for those who have undergone hardship, but I guess that’s an argument for another time and place.

In any case, I suddenly realized that, for all these years, my superstition had been paying tribute to some nebulous force of entropy that was impartial at best, and cruel at worst, when my faith dictated that I should have instead been trusting in God. And so, in an act of faith, I decided to spit in the face of superstition and irony, and put my trust where it belonged. And so I began praying again. There were times when I wanted to go back to my old habits—for example, I’ve been keeping a little diary of the days of my wife’s pregnancy, and there were times when I thought, “Surely, by doing this, I’m dooming myself to tragedy—how ironic would it be for me to do this work, only to have it be for nothing in the end?” and at those moments I thought of the story of when Jesus encouraged Peter to walk on the water and Peter, due to his lack of faith, began to sink. And so I persisted. And so now here I sit, a more faithful and rational man.

Conclusion

Well, there we go. I’m exhausted after writing this, but I like to think it has a wide variety of helpful information for anyone who’s having trouble conceiving a baby and, while not all of it might apply to your situation (if you are, indeed, experiencing trouble having children) I hope you managed to find a few bits of information that can help guide your choices. Best wishes.

A Quick Update

Some years ago, when I first started this blog, I’d write these updates just so people knew the blog wasn’t defunct. Then, once I felt like people had figured out the ebb and flow, I stopped. I thought I’d write a quick one today though. You’ll see why in a bit.

Anyway, things are going to get a bit more quiet than usual. I finally finished writing my latest book, and it took me far too long to complete, so now I’m going to devote a lot of time to editing and seeing if I can trick convince someone to publish it.

My job has had its ups and downs. Still tough … maybe tougher than before … but I’m surviving, and I have some insights that I hopefully will help everyone in the future.

And the main reason I’m writing this is to let folks know that I’m a father. The baby is due in March. Thank you, thank you. Readers might have figured out that I usually don’t read comments for this blog (It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that the stress-to-benefit ratio is just something that doesn’t seem like a good deal to me. Maybe a bit hypocritical of someone who encourages men to face life’s challenges head on, but what can I say, I choose my battles.) but just send you prayers, well wishes, or psychically directed crystal energy my way (your choice!) and I’ll appreciate it. In any case, I have a lot to share about the ups and downs of the journey, and, more importantly, some good advice for all the men out there, but all that will have to wait for the time being.

Anyway, I guess that’s it for now! If the book gets picked up, maybe I’ll tell you what it’s called, so you can buy it. Don’t hold your breath, though. And best wishes.

A Karaoke Song and Relationships Between Men and Women

I briefly mentioned this a few months ago, but thought it deserved a bit more attention, so here we go. Anyway, the other day I was singing some karaoke (and by the way, if you live in an area where karaoke is big, singing can be a fairly easy skill to develop—but don’t fool yourself and think you can just sing any song you’re vaguely familiar with without practice) and one of the ladies I was with got up and decided to sing some song about how all women are strong queens, and they’re not princesses that need to be saved, and blah blah blah. I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention, because I was trying to see if I could remember the fast lyrics to “By the Way” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But then it got me thinking about some things, and I wanted to share my insights in a small article that will hopefully be more thought provoking than complaintive.

First of all, imagine if the shoe were on the other foot. Imagine if a guy were to complain about how he didn’t need women. Well … there are people like that! From time to time I’ll hear men state that women only hold us back, that the majority of them are toxic and manipulative, and so on. And there is some truth to this. In fact, I have both a brother and a close friend who had wives that cheated on them, won custody of their children, and subsequently gaslit their kids to turn them against their fathers, while another close friend has a knack of repeatedly meeting women who attempt to manipulate him out of money (and succeed much more than they should). But to take these few examples and make a blanket statement that men should completely do away with women altogether would be doing a disservice to everyone.

That’s because men and women are not enemies. We’re a team. I work with mostly women. Now, imagine that every time one of my more-experienced female co-workers gave me advice, I accused them of being condescending or trying to set me up for failure. It would make for a pretty bad work dynamic. As it is, though, they have a lot of experience, and really help me out when I’m totally clueless about what to do. Not wanting to seem completely helpless, then, I use my talent of being a fast worker to help my teammates crank out projects in record time. Together we use their knowledge and my elbow grease to make our department look good to our supervisors, thereby ensuring we don’t get our department downsized. Have there been times when I’ve felt like was talked down to a little? Yeah, a few. But at the end of the day, everyone has done a pretty good job of working in my—in our—best interests.

And then there’s marriage. Look, I don’t want to say that a man is worthless unless he gets married. It’s totally possible to change the world and not get married. Just ask Nikola Tesla, Isaac Newton, and Wilt Chamberlain. However, most of us are much less likely to have our names go down in history, and much more likely to turn into a slacker who just sits around the house seeing how fast he can find nude images of Sally Acorn on Google. By contrast, when a man gets married he often becomes … well, something a little bit more. When I got married, I transformed from a guy who sat at home playing Path of Exile all day to a defender and a provider for another human being who, in turn supported me with talents of her own. And now, with a baby on the way, we’ll together begin the incredible task of forging a whole new human being. That’s quite a thing when you think about it, right? Now compare that to my single friend who goes to work, goes home, watches old reruns of ‘80s TV shows, and does it again the next day, on and on, until he shuffles off this mortal coil. Which of those sounds more appealing?

……

No, you’re supposed say “Forging a new human being,” dammit! Look, I know watching reruns of Knight Rider is … look, let’s just move on.

My point is this: Yes, there are bad women out there, but there are many more good women who are there to help us with their expertise. And, when it comes to marriage, they help us men realize our purposes, our destinies as protectors, providers, and fathers.

Okay, but back to that song. Here’s the thing about men. When men claim they don’t need women, they’re often marginalized or ridiculed. But when women complain they don’t need men? Well, they become celebrities. This assertion is celebrated, made into song, and proclaimed on just about every social media platform out there.

I’ve mentioned before that men sometimes are our own worst enemies. We tend to give each other bad advice, and we’re often dishonest about some of the challenges we face, out of fear of seeming weak. Well, women give each other bad advice, too, and this is such an example. Now imagine, at my job, my female co-workers constantly told me they didn’t need my help. I can tell you, things would get done a lot more slowly around here. And when it comes to marriage, just as a good man can be made a better man with the inclusion of a good woman, the same goes in reverse. By meeting the right man, a woman, too, can become a provider, a mother, and a co-leader of a family unit. And while some perpetually single women might be lucky enough to become the next Oprah or Joan of Arc, many more won’t, and likely run the risk of becoming lonely, bitter cat ladies. Yet few people will ever echo this sentiment. Probably because “My man is really helpful,” doesn’t make for as interesting song content as “All the queens in the house kick those men in the balls, say HEY-ohh! (Hey-oh!)”

So the point of it all? I guess it’s this: Both men and women need to stop looking at the glass as 1/3 empty and viewing it as 2/3 full, because otherwise we end up missing out on a lot of potential for betterment of life and work. Yes, always be wary of toxic human beings and manipulators, but don’t become so resistant that you diminish your opportunities. And also, that song was dumb.