On Current Meteorological Conditions And Macho Posturing

As anybody who lives in the Twin Cities will attest to, recently the weather’s been cold.

On second thought, the word “cold” doesn’t really accurately describe the magnitude of the plummet the temperature has taken. No, what’s really needed is truckload of compound adjectives, so let’s try it again:

As anybody who lives in the Twin Cities will attest to, recently the weather’s been bone-chilling, gas-line-freezing, shoulder-hunching, black-ice-forming, teeth-chattering, nose-running, eye-watering, huddle-by-a-fire-if-you-have-one-and-if-you-don’t-then-just-set-any-old-thing-ablaze-and-huddle-by-that cold.

Ah, much better.

Anyway, now that we’ve firmly established the meteorological conditions of the past few weeks, it’s time to move on to an anecdote.

I was at a Kwik Trip pumping gas when I noticed that one of my fellow patrons had elected to sit inside of her car while her tank was filling. This struck me as a good idea, mainly because I was pretty certain that my eyebrows were going to freeze and fall off at any moment. However, one thing stood in my way: I’m a guy, and in the unwritten guy rulebook it’s stated that you have to stand outside and tough out the weather when you’re pumping gas, lest you admit to the entire world that you’re a huge weenie – albeit one who would probably be a lot warmer and have full functionality of his fingers.

And so, fully ready to sacrifice my eyebrows, I toughed it out.

Fast-forward to the next occasion when I had to get gas. This time it was even colder. After stepping out of my car and basically turning into an instant Klondike bar, I decided that I had no problem admitting to the world that I was a huge weenie. Yup, I was going to wait in the car as my tank was filling, guy rulebook be darned. But then I saw a guy pumping gas a stall over, and he was standing outside tall and proud, completely toughing it out. He wasn’t even bundled up, and he didn’t even seem to be showing any signs of discomfort.

Feeling ashamed, I abandoned my plan to turn into a giant weenie. An unspoken challenge had been placed before me by the other guy, and I couldn’t just ignore it. If he could tough it out, then so could I! Plus, if I were to give up and wait in my warm car, he would then have every right to come over, steal my lunch money, and give me a noogie, and he'd be totally justified in doing so.

And so, I toughed it out yet again.

That’s just how guys operate. At least the stupid ones.

It reminds me of the time I was training for a half-marathon. The schedule called for a relatively short run of two miles or so. However, as soon as I began, a guy got on the treadmill next to me and also began to run. I watched him out of the corner of my eyes suspiciously.

When I hit two miles, I didn’t stop. This was because the guy next to me was still running. We’d started at just about the same time, and I wasn’t going to let him win! So I kept running, throwing the training schedule to the wind. Whether the guy next to me knew it or not, he was in for a battle! I was going to outlast him or get thrown off that treadmill trying!

And so, scoring major points for stupidity and competitions that may not actually be competitions, I outlasted him and emerged victorious.

Am I proud of myself? Not really.

But do I regret my decisions? Also, not really.

The unwritten guy rulebook is a very powerful thing, and sometimes I’m simply torn between logic and macho posturing. Maybe someday, something will tip it one way or the other. Perhaps it will hinge on if my eyebrows ever grow back.