I don’t understand this obsession men have with “man caves.” My husband is working on his official man cave. I thought his shop was his man cave.
“No, Linda. The shop is where I have my tools to fix and update your, YOUR, house. Every room in this house is yours. And just when I think I’m done, you have another project for me to work on. I want one room, just one, where I can watch what I want to watch on TV, scratch myself, put my feet up, spill something, and be left alone.”
I don’t really think every room in our home is mine.
“We have the family room,” I said.
“Every room in this house has your rules even the family room. I just want one room, just one, without your rules.”
Well, he does have a point. I do have rules for the rooms in our home. I’m not asking much – just keep it immaculate. Ohhhhhh. Primal instincts I suppose.
I must say he’s doing a nice job on his man cave. It’s a room downstairs that had no purpose and I didn’t want it anyway. There’s a nice wood built-in cabinet that he refinished. He painted the room and put down a new floor. Then, he built a bar and he’s going to put tile on top of it. He has his “I love me” wall for all those things I wouldn’t allow him to put up in any other room. Of course, there’s his sports memorabilia, his military memorabilia, and a vast collection of beer steins and beer glasses. The man rarely drinks. The crème de la crème – a 20 foot (I exaggerate) television mounted on the wall that frightens me with its size.
But, still, I don’t really get it. I have the parlor with no electronics where I sit, read, reflect, and write in a journal. It’s nice, pretty, and quiet. The dogs even relax in there. I just don’t understand why anyone would want a room designed for, what I consider, noise and chaos.
Last week, my husband’s friend stopped by to see the man cave. I walked by to see this man glowing behind my husband’s unfinished bar. He was so happy in that room.
“This is great. You can close the door? No women or kids? You can watch whatever you want to whenever you want to? You can come in here and just be alone? No one can come in unless you authorize it?”
Yes. That’s the deal. It’s my husband’s room.
Then his friend sighed and said, “I need this in my house. I think I’m getting horny.”
I couldn’t breathe from laughing so much.
The two of them stayed in my husband’s unfinished man cave for three hours discussing the joys of having a man cave. I think I heard grunting. I’m not sure.
Yesterday, my husband started working on his friend’s man cave. He’s even going to build the same bar. I didn’t understand that because his friend runs a furniture business and could purchase any type of fancy bar he likes. He prefers the rustic look and cost of my husband’s bar.
My husband can have his man cave. I’ll leave him alone when he’s in there. After all, in addition to every other room in the house being mine, my husband built me a bitch den adjacent to his shop. I can drink wine or coffee, smoke a cigarette (since he also put in an exhaust fan as I requested), and monitor his progress of my ongoing projects.
Column by Linda R. Jones
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