Sometimes I do things that make me feel like a man. You know, like a true man. For instance, when I go to the Home Depot, I feel manly. Perhaps the ladies can't equally relate to this feeling. Besides being blessed with some nice hair due to my Italian heritage, I have never considered myself overly manly. Rather, I would easily admit I am proud to be a metro-sexual.

See, I've never been good at sports, I can't spit, can't burp on command, I really enjoy being clean, I hate having dirt under my finger nails, I pluck my eyebrows, I use lotion (actually I have separate lotion for my hands, face, and body, respectively), I have shampoo and conditioner (not the 2-in-1) that I use daily, I prefer dancing over any sort of contact sport, I can throw things underhand somewhat well, I go to nice salons and never a barber, I own about five 'murses' aka man purses and wear them proudly, I wear pink…a lot, when sitting I often cross my legs, I own a lot of shoes, clothing is important, I love hugs and when I hug someone of the same sex I do not always do the handshake/pat-on-the-back-twice type male hug- I will just tightly embrace, I make sure my appearance is more than acceptable, I prefer eating foods with a knife and fork-including pizza rather than my fingers, I put cologne on my neck and each wrist, and did I mention I pluck my eyebrows…

And before you question my sexuality completely, I do love women, am attracted to them. I am a man, just one who's not a caveman and knows how to use a mirror- unlike many in our culture today.

Sometimes I watch football and feel manly. At times I even know what certain plays are, or I can scream 'false start' before the ref throws the flag, or I can say things like 'that's the quarterback.' Manly. But then I remember that I don't really like playing football-it's pretty rough and I don't like getting hurt. Metro…

Sometimes I look in the mirror, seeing the beard I have and think, 'I am manly.' But then I remember I daily shampoo and condition it as well as trim it quite frequently. Metro…

Sometimes I go to the gym and lift weights like bench pressing. Manly. But then I realize I wear gloves while lifting so I won't develop calluses but can keep my hands soft. Metro…

Today, I went to Home Depot. I was walking around that story looking at tools and machines I never knew existed or have any inkling how they work, feeling full of testosterone. Grrr. And as I walked back to my car with hands full of bags, I thought, 'Yep, I am a man.' But then I realized I was walking out of Home Depot with bags of flowerpots. Then I remembered I am way metro…

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I saw a sign for hot apple cider. Mmm, I thought- I love hot apple cider. I got some. However, when I went to sip this hot beverage I realized it was simply hot apple juice. There is a difference. Please do not try and sell me hot cider that is really heated apple juice. That is a crime! Cider is yummy. Hot apple juice is hot, and apple-ly tasting. I like cider, which has apples and spices and other things that make it delicious. If I wanted hot apple juice, I would go buy some Motts, put it in a cup and use my microwave. Hot apple juice is not hot apple cider. Please learn. My tongue thanks you.

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I have always wanted to kiss someone under the mistletoe. Ideally it's romantic, but has yet to realistically occur.

As a kid, my grandma always had mistletoe. It hung from the doorframe in between her kitchen and living room. As kids, we would run through that doorway- for it would have been a disaster to be caught under it, being forced to kiss the opposite sex. I mean they have coodies! In actuality, I do not even remember anyone else kissing under the mistletoe. I never saw my parental units kiss or any aunts and uncles showing their love for one another by smooching. It seemed to just be decoration rather than a hanging twig that induced two people to kiss.

It makes sense though that I ran through that door hoping to never get caught. Growing up, there weren't a lot of people to kiss. I could have kissed my sisters-but that is just awkward for an older brother. I never wanted Santa to kiss me under the mistletoe- I just wanted his presents. My parents could have kissed my cheek but it was always too wet and I would wipe it away. And my grandma seemed to be growing a little more peach fuzz above her upper lip each year so I never wanted to be near that.

So alas no kisses under the mistletoe for me. Being too much of a romantic, I'm still holding out. Still holding out for that pretty lady who isn't related to me, isn't Santa, or doesn't have a mustache. One day I'll be kissing under the mistletoe.

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