As men, one of are traditional defining (and obviously somewhat sexist) claims to fame has been that we make decisions. We make bold, direct, defining decisions with superhero chest puffed out that save the day. We adorn the cover of romance novels with perfect pecs, glorious McDreamy hair, the woman huddled into our arms as we command her love through our sheer manliness. (Including apparently deciding to never wear a closed shirt.) While a traditional cultural sexist interpretation, we feel it is still inherent in our testosterone archetype. With our command of the decision making, we go to the moon. We charge Heartbreak Ridge. We are Genghis Khans, founders of the Mongol Empire. Take these grand decisions away from us, and we lose our identity as the hunters and gatherers of the tribe.
Welcome to unemployment; the battle against losing our romance cover novel self decision making self. The enemy in this battle: Coffee.
Yes coffee.
I recently went to the grocery store to purchase my fiance's and I weekly supply of coffee. (Most important in that it is the fuel that keeps her running as the Alpha female of my life.) In purchasing coffee, my manhood decision making was quickly threatened and called into question.
To me, coffee is coffee. Its a healthy, legal stimulant that allows me to excel. To me, it all tastes the same. Its fuel. Apparently I was wrong.
So there I am, standing on my imaginary manhood hill, being assailed by row after row of the vast horde of coffee descriptions. One is a medium roast from South America. Wait, no, not just a medium roast from South America, but a coffee from the vast hidden Mayan hills that has hints of vanilla, chocolate, grass, made with love and sunshine. Or I can choose a Dark Roast from the dark continent of Africa that has a nose of bitter, strawberries, and conflict diamonds. Oh no! It doesn't end there! Now a light roast from Malaysia has entered into the fray with both hints AND aromas of unicorns dancing on rainbows while it showers Care Bears and gold doubloons.
WTF?!?!?!
I personally, have no clue what any of that means. I don't know what a dark roast versus a light roast means! I don't know why a coffee from South American is different than a coffee from South Africa. Maybe I don't have a developed pallet. But why the hell do I need a developed pallet for something that costs a $1.25 at 7/11?? A glass of wine, sure. That's $9 bucks. I better damn well have enough of a pallet to discern wine at that price. But coffee??
So now, in the middle of the grocery store, I am in a downward spiral. What do I choose?? What is the right coffee? If I choose the wrong coffee, what does that say about the rest of my manhood making decisions? Previously when I had a job, I could of been the lead role in a Michael Bay moving saying "That asteroid is going to destroy earth?? Not on my watch! I am going to punch that asteroid back to the galaxy in which it came from!!" Then I would hop on a NASA spaceship, lean out the portal window, and upper cut that asteroid back to God.
Not now. I am now reduced to my 4 year old self. Sniveling, almost crying, with a slight snot bubble coming out of my nose, looking around furious for my mommy to tell me which coffee will be the best and restore my manhood.
Then it happened. Over the loud speaker at the grocery store, Kate Perry speaking directly to me saying:
Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?
Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you?
You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July
'Cause baby, you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go, oh
As you shoot across the sky
Damn right I am a goddamn firework!!! While getting manhood inspiration from Kate Perry is questionable, its effect is without rebuttal. I don't give a shit what your shade your roast is and if it came from the buttholes of Polar Bears dancing at the north pole singing Christmas carols. I knew who I am. I can make decisions because I am a man.
Right there then, in the middle of the grocery store, my shirt came unbuttoned. My pecs swoll. A strong breeze came down the aisle, blowing my hair into a perfect quaff. I developed a Texas accent akin to John Wayne.
With bulging biceps and clear American determination in my eye, I took my coffee choice for purchase to the counter.
Grocery seller: "Is this all today?"
ME: "You are goddamn right it is."
I then walked out of the grocery store with my manhood restored and my coffee in hand. My purchase? The cheapest coffee I could find. Because that is who I am. I am a man who purchases the cheapest goddamn coffee because its fing coffee.
Today I hold my head high because of Kate Perry and cheap coffee.
