10 things that suck about being a guy

Trying to convince a woman that being a guy isn’t a cake walk usually ends with two examples of feminine woe: menstruation and childbirth. You might also hear gripes about how guys can pee standing up and need not worry as much about dirty toilet seats, empty toilet seat cover receptacles and butt rash. Of course, being male isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and here are some reasons why.

Testosterone is a bitch

I touched on this in my post “The Trials and Tribulations of the Testosterone-Fueled Male.” As a heterosexual man—and despite having a wife I would never consider cheating on—I still find myself instinctively “checking out”  women of all shapes and sizes. And whether I like it or not, my thoughts sometimes turn into sexual fantasies about the most attractive ones. And I’m not talking about women that society would deem attractive, but those I personally find myself drawn to. It’s not that I’m shopping around for a better mate or even think I would have a chance to bed any of these lovely ladies. Testosterone just takes over and I simply can’t control myself. The difference is that I won’t act on these feelings. And being able to think with the head above my shoulders certainly helps.

Pee where you please

Yes, men are able to pee standing up, which makes us much more mobile when the urge to go arises. However, this also opens us up to some serious errors in judgment, like peeing in public and maybe even being ticketed for public urination. This wouldn’t happen if we had to find a bathroom every time our bladder filled up.

Let it all hang out

Women are fortunate that their “plumbing” is internal because having everything hanging out can be a real challenge. And yes, I am talking about penises and, more importantly, scrotums (I decided that ball sacks sounded too crude). And if you ask any man to rank his most excruciating pains, being hit in the nuts is always going to be in the top three. And don’t even get me started on zippers. Whoever thought that having a metal set of interlocking teeth on the front of guy’s pants obviously never zipped up his balls accidentally.

Popping up

The penis is a very strange and unpredictable appendage. At the worst possible times—usually in public—it decides to stand at attention, lifting your pants in the process and basically forcing you to remain seated while thinking about non-sexual, non-arousing topics. I normally focus on football or some other sports-related theme. The scary thing is that it doesn’t always work, which confuses me and can be quite awkward. I’m kidding!

One and done

If properly stimulated, most women can and will experience multiple orgasms. Such is not the case with men, save for some very talented porn stars, of course. For most of us, one is the magic number and a second orgasm can only be generated after a period of rest, fluid consumption and maybe a snack. By then, however, we’ve likely lost interest or simply become distracted by the latest installment of “Sportscenter.”

Slapping the salami

Related to uncontrollable levels of testosterone is the fact that most men turn to masturbation at an early age and never look back. Some call it “training” for the time they finally find a willing female participant, but it’s really more of a necessity. You see, many women won’t “give it up” when we’re young, so we have to depend on bra ads in newspapers or Sears catalogs to get the job done. And bless the internet for bringing porn to the masses because that opened up a whole new realm of masturbatory pleasure for men around the world. The kind that doesn’t involve barnyard animals or scat parties, I mean (and some dudes even find these things stimulating… freaky).

Hair be gone

Baldness is another disadvantage to being a man, and you don’t see many—or any—bald women walking around out there. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with hair that continues to grow like a weed at 41 years of age, but some of my friends weren’t so lucky. I know guys who started going bald in high school and today have only remnants of the fine hair civilization that once called their craniums home. Of course, hair restoration medicine and surgery are much more effective these days—unlike hair plugs and toupees from back in the day. And if all else fails, I suppose you could have the hair from your ass transplanted to your head. Just make sure no one accidentally uses the short and curlies instead.

Women and children first

Although I agree with this when an emergency occurs, it still means that guys will be the first to perish if things get really bad. Take the sinking of the Titanic, for instance. Women and children found space in lifeboats while men fought each other for any remaining seats, which they obviously didn’t find. 103 women died in this terrible tragedy, but so did 1,347 men. I don’t particularly care for those odds.

Crying.. (Photo credit: Anders Ljungberg)

Cry me a river

If a man is caught crying, then he’s normally considered to be some kind of pansy unless he has a very good explanation for it (like the death of a loved one or the Super Bowl loss of a favorite football team). In almost every other situation, this is frowned upon. Of course, this can come back and bite us in the ass later when women describe us as being incapable of expressing our feelings. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, ladies. Or can you?

Footing the bill

These days, women are much more likely to pay the tab on a date or at least split the check with you. Unfortunately, this doesn’t really happen at the club or bar, where most women I’ve seen end up drinking for free. And yes, it’s because some horny guys pick up the tabs in the hope that more intoxicated women might actually sex them up later. Isn’t it enough that they get ushered into clubs while guys have to stand out in the cold, hoping to be deemed worthy by some bald-headed bouncer who only seems interested in the ladies anyway? Maybe not, but don’t listen to me. I was always the guy who stood on-line the longest.

By now, I hope you’re convinced that being a guy can really blow sometimes. Sure, we don’t have monthly visits from Aunt Flo, cottony plugs to shove into our dark orifices or basketball-sized puppies to push out, but being male is no picnic. Trust me on this.