“Why do you call your husband ‘Mr. Man’?” I was asked. “Because it’s better manners than calling him Man Pig.”
Man Pig.
Mr. Man Pig.
Mr. Man. ... That’s how it evolved. I also call him Buster, Lovey and a couple other names. He answers to most of them.
The “Man Pig” thing emerged years ago. I was single and enjoying weekend coffees with my girlfriend, Kelly. One fine Saturday, she looked up from her latte and personal ads and proclaimed, “Men are pigs!” This statement definitely needed elaboration.
“Listen to this,” Kelly mocked. “‘Single white male, 50, looking for female. Must be 21-36, outgoing, size in proportion to weight. Send letter and PHOTOS to…blah, blah, blah.’ He’s a pig!” Kelly asserted. I pondered this awhile and determined you can find a little pigginess in all males. It’s true. Some are just a little piggier than others. Many of them are handsome. They make you coffee every morning, help the kids with their math homework and spend an inordinate amount of time multi-tasking while reading the sports page. (You would think their legs would go to sleep!)
I have a husband pig. I also have son pigs, a father pig and two over-the-top brother pigs. I even have a cousin-in-law-pig. They’re all pigs.
With a lot of time on his hands, my cousin-in-law pig decided he was going to relieve himself in every state capitol men’s room and write a book about it! He likened the project to writing a guide book to America’s Bed & Breakfasts. He started on the east coast with a notebook and a big old container of Metamucil. Charlie claims Albany, New York has a very nice men’s room—complete with marble doors and stalls. He also argues the men of Vermont have a class A men’s room in their statehouse. But, admits it may have been his urgent need to poop, as he squeezed his cheeks together while racing up the steps of the capitol! Ooh. Nasty.
Just the other day, our youngest son, Bubba, stood in front of the refrigerator for (I kid you not) five minutes. Just staring. Yep, mouth open with that pre-teen glazed look on his face. After all the cold air had escaped the fridge, he realized there was only healthy food in there. He then let out a long, rattally, truck-driver-belch and finally closed the doors. In essence, he trapped his essence in the refrigerator and walked off. I just shook my head. My husband smiled broadly, “aren’t you proud of him?” Son pig.
My sister-in-law, Punkin and her husband, Jon, were appalled when they recently visited their son’s apartment that he shares with three other young college students. “Those boys hadn’t done dishes in weeks!” she said. “Dirty plates were stacked five and six high…it was disgusting.” Not a Felix Unger in the bunch!
As I said, Man Pigs have redeeming qualities (that’s why I still live with several). I’ve always said my brothers; Nathan and Christian were just warm up acts for my husband. Don’t get me wrong, I love them all. And, I believe this information serves me, and other women like me, very
well. Knowing their degree of pigginess leads to better understanding of their maleness!
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