Spit and Spirits

Please, Let Me Kill You – Or At Least Get Angry At You a Bit

with one comment

A newly formed habit gradually creeps up on you. You wake up, pick your nose, roll it between your thumb and forefinger and drop it over the side of your bed. It’s only when you vacuum and it sounds like you’re sucking up scattered sand that you realise you’ve been rolling snot and dropping it next to your bed for pretty much as long as you can remember.

'You can relax, little one. The chiwawa is gone.'

‘You can relax, little one. The chiwawa is gone.’

Of course, probably, when you become aware of your new lazy-arsed, snot rolling and dropping habit, you’ll stop – although there will always be something satisfying about mining out a booger the size of a small cockroach. But what if you’ve formed a new habit that you just can’t shake, like wishing a stranger would outrage you enough so you can kill them?

It’s a habit that has been slowly creeping up on me now for around nine months. What else happens in nine months? Any day now I’m going to become a father. Hold your American talk-show style applause. Men have been knocking women up since the first Neanderthal discovered cleavage. And that was before bikinis, lacy lingerie and scotch and coke. If you’re lucky it’s a fairly natural thing to occur.

Since finding out my wife had turned into the mother of my child, and knowing that child was actually travelling everywhere she went, I’ve become – even more so – like a raging, protective gorilla. It’s like I’m searching for reasons to fly off at a stranger’s behaviour if I so much as get a whisper of ill will. As it is, most dirt-bag guys only try and intimidate or abuse women when there are no other men around. Countless times my wife has come home with a story about a man road raging, or yelling abuse from a car, or generally being creepy and pushing up against her at a pedestrian crossing when she’s been alone. Each time I’ve wished intensely that I had been there to offer protection, but of course dirt-bags get scared off at the scent of another man. Unfortunately it’s just the way dirt-bags roll.

Now though, anywhere I go with my wife and her expanding tummy, I’m not only on protective gorilla duty, I’m on protective-gorilla-who-used-to-be-in-the-special-forces-and-is-out-for-revenge-against-the-society-who-wronged-him duty. I’m Rambo in a gorilla suit. And it’s something I can’t seem to shake.

Greg Bishop, founder of Boot Camp For Dads, explains this uncontrollable need to protect comes from way back in those caveman days of discovering cleavage. Men are hardwired to protect their clan, especially their offspring and the mother of their offspring. Offspring, because of the obvious need to populate the world with your progeny, and mother because at some point you’ll be wanting more progeny (and also because she looks damn sexy in that leather cavewoman bikini).

Granted, life was a hell of a lot tougher back in those days. Saber tooth tigers were prowling and evolving dolphins needed to be forced back into the oceans. These days threats are still as real, but perhaps not as instantly volatile and club-smashing worthy. However Bishop explains, we, as men, still become effected by the subtle hormonal changes that occur when we know our progeny is on the way. These hormones kick in after a few months and pretty much stay with us for the rest of our lives. It’s a way for us to feel the need to be around and protect our family, rather than race off and live in our man-cave swilling bourbon and watching V8 Supercars for the rest of our lives – although I’m sure that happens.

In some way I can’t help feel that us men are actually reverting back to a more instinctual, caveman style of fathering. Back in those days co-parenting was the norm. And, in the last hundred years or so, our grandfathers probably spent more time with their children than their fathers did. Our fathers probably spent more time with us than their fathers did. And we’ll definitely spend more time with our children than our fathers spent with us. With more knowledge and information it seems we’re reverting back to an ideology that has been around way before knowledge and information even existed. The only thing that existed back then was instinct. Instinct works.

BMWs - the evil sabre-toothed tigers of today

BMWs – the evil sabre-toothed tigers of today

For me, knowing that this protective gorilla rage I’ve formed is a completely natural caveman instinct actually helps to keep it from exploding, although it still growls out every now and then. I can understand why people have those ‘baby on board’ stickers on their cars. Often I’ve wanted to pull over at a set of lights and scream through someone’s window how my wife is eight months pregnant so stop tailgating their fucking BMW up our arses. And having to walk through the cluster of smokers to get into the hospital, even though the area is plastered with no-smoking signs, always gets me riled. On more than one occasion I’ve stopped and yelled at them all for making pregnant women and sick children breathe their death-smoke.

Overall, I’m actually liking this new, heightened sensation of protectiveness. I feel as if my level of manhood has risen a few bars. I’m about to have my very own family, and I’m going to make damn sure I’ll protect them for the rest of my life.

I may even buy a leather loincloth and a club.

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One Response

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  1. Or should I say hear hear…either way…I hear you from here 😉

    recpearson

    August 8, 2014 at 1:49 pm


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