I’m a man, no doubt about it. If you require more evidence regarding my sexuality, that means my photo(s) of my wife and me look more of 2 lesbians than 2 married heterosexual Asians. If it’s really the earlier, I suggest this blog isn’t the one you should be reading.
For those still with me, I must congratulate you on your normality. You’re good to read on.
Now, what’s about the zipper sliders? What’s with the tiny thing that makes me feel safe?
You see – in reference to paragraph one – I am a man. You know what I’m trying to say? Unlike ladies, we do not have to – although many men do – pull down our pants / shorts to relieve ourselves. Perhaps I’m tiny in between, so I have the privilege to just “whip it out and get it done” whenever I say hello to the rooms called “toilets”, while my pants and belt stay where they are. No mess to worry about for me.
Today, I paid a visit to the restroom before I made my way home from work. While I was at it, my phone rang, and I had to do the deed with my head tilted. If you do not know why, I am pretty sure you are a female.
We have to aim, that’s it.
Let me cut the story short: I ended my deed the same time with the phone call (okay, you talked me into it. It was my wife on the other end of the line), and then with my head still tilted, I washed (damn good hygiene habits) my hands before I kept my phone back to where it belonged. Turned the knob of the door, and walked out with an empty bladder, whistling as I took every steps.
Down to the ground floor, and walked on into the crowd during that evening rush hour. Halfway through, I had a sudden realization, and I asked myself, “Have I zipped it up?”
And that was the moment I started feeling insecure.
I don’t think you quite understand how I felt, unless you’ve been through what I had – walking around with an opened fly and having babes looking down there while laughing at you but not telling you why. That scar remains in me until today.
With my heart thumping, I swiftly pulled my sling bag to my front to protect my modesty. I reached for my belt buckle (no, not my zip, silly!), and started doing pretend shifting pushing it around my waist from left to right.
Why belt buckle? Here’s where the slider became the topic of this post.
If the zipper slider was just below my belt buckle –I could just move my fingers down to feel it while pretending to adjust position my belt – that would mean I was safe. If it wasn’t, I’d have to pray that no one saw my tiny whiney budge from the manly and catchy Hush Puppy underwear.
So I did what I do best – pretending to re-position my belt while sliding my fingers below the buckle to feel for the little tag. Guess what? It was there!
Phew. Thank you Whitcomb L Judson.
Andy Lawson is the average man on the street that you’ll not even trouble yourself looking at him if he passes by you. He’s sensitive to bullshit, and he hates mediocrity in most people.
He is the author of his self-published book: Facts and Fiction of Fengshui: Facts that Masters are NOT Telling You.
He doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, because he hates to be associated with people who tend to be passive-aggressive online, but he does have a very limited set of vocabularies, terrible grammar, a twisted mind that makes himself God in his own twisted world and an ability to communicate with people who wish to be his friend.