The Blogfathers

In a way, it’s fitting that I’m sitting here writing a post on a blog that is all about the guys. It’s fitting because I have always had a problem bonding with my fellow man. Women? No problem. The psychoanalysts would probably tell you that it’s because I grew up without a father figure in my life that I naturally relate better to women. Either that or women just smell better, I’m not really sure.

That being said, I have noticed that fatherhood is opening doors to meet more guys who are fathers themselves. And while we may not have all the things in common that my preconceived notion of male bonding should encompass, we have parenthood in common and that seems good enough. Having said that, even then, I’m finding, there are obstacles.

For example, this past weekend a neighbor of mine invited me to go to the AMA Motocross races being held in San Diego. Now, I’m your basic sports fan - baseball, football, and some track and field thrown in, but I’ve never followed motor sports in any way (probably due to the fact that I can find the dipstick in the engine and that’s about it) so I was a little hesitant to accept this invitation. However, my neighbor is a nice guy and a father of a 7-month-old girl himself so I thought “Why not?” So we went. His brother-in-law also went and suddenly I found myself hanging out with two guys while watching sports.

We made small talk while waiting for the event to begin and while watching the beer flow all around us, the subject of our drinking habits came up. We both stated that we didn’t drink all that much. When I told him that I was a pretty light drinker he made a joking comment about me probably being a “closet drunk” and that I probably go home at night and get hammered.

Now here is where my lack of experience at “hanging with the guys” clearly showed (and that I’m clearly reading too much of Metrodad). I replied to his joke by saying in a loud and gregarious voice, “No, the last potent drink I had was a shot of breast milk.”

SCREEEEEEEEEEECCCCHHHH

The conversation grinded to a halt and I immediately sensed the uneasiness of the guys. Trying to salvage this I implored, “Come on, you must have tasted breast milk before! Right? Right?”
Well, no. It turns out they haven’t had any interest in tasting the goods and were quite okay with the fact that they have never tasted breast milk. I couldn’t change their minds even when I told them it’s sweet and would go good in coffee. Realizing I was beating a dead horse, I changed the subject soon thereafter and managed to salvage the evening by talking about hot chicks in the stands and how James Stewart has balls of steel, but I learned a valuable lesson that I thought I should pass along to you if you are ever in a similar situation.

Breast Milk and Motocross just don’t mix.

Male Bondsmen