It Gives a Man Pause
by Randy Tucker
“Andropause”, they tell me it’s called. Apparently it strikes most male humans between age 49 and 59. I don’t know. I’m not a scientist. That’s why I had never heard of it before it destroyed my manhood.
Men are simple creatures when they are young. They are in the same mood from sunrise to sunset. Never think about their health. Too busy being driven by their wonderful testosterone.
We slowly get a tacit understanding -- tacit because if we mention it, we are dead -- that the female of the species goes through periodic (pardon the pun) distress and even, dare I say, bitchiness. We start to slowly realize that Mom gets cranky every few weeks for a few days. We notice Dad in the garage more. “Mom is just high strung, Son. Don’t take it too personal. Just give her space. Like a hundred miles would be about right.”
Females have a training period for the inevitable ‘Change of Life’ that’s coming down the road for them. Their mothers and grandmothers warn them. I remember watching an episode of “All In The Family” where Edith goes through the change. Very funny and upsetting all at once. At least it explained why my Granny was growing a ‘stache. Men just blithely go on with one more reason to feel lucky and grateful to have an outy and not an inny. We march on.
I vaguely remember reading somewhere near the comics in the local paper about this thing called “Andropause”. I was about 45. I glanced at it a bit, but soon got bored. Too many references to hormones. Sounded waaay too unmanly. Even prissy. I just forgot about it and resumed eating my raw meat, quaffing my beer, and thinking about sex every nine seconds.
Then I turned 52 and it seemed like overnight I was gaining weight, growing breasts, and tearing up at Bugs Bunny cartoons: “That Bugs is so cute!” My interest in sex didn’t go away. It just stepped back about 500 miles. Along with my ability. I found myself talking with my middle -aged male friends about cooking and health issues. Yikes! What the hell was happening? I started wishing that I had those grab bars in my tub. I went to my doctor. He told me that I was just going through the male ‘Change of Life’ and that it would all be okay. They have a wonderful drug that gives you an erection. You won’t necessarily enjoy it like you used to, but if you’re not too drunk you can fake it. Hopefully your now testosterone-depleted heart will take the strain.
And stop watching Oprah, get off the couch and get active. Wear dark glasses so that people won’t notice how emotional you get at the silliest things. I teared up watching a great pass at the Super Bowl for Heaven’s sake.
I have lunch on Saturday with four other decrepit formerly manly old fools. You should see the five of us trying to get in and out of the car. The first four are pushed and the last one is dragged. Too pathetic.
Apparently there is hope. You can replace the testosterone by lifting Buicks and eating avocados. Jogging is out of the question without a bra. Sigh! How could we not have known this? How did this happen? Has it always happened? My guess is that most men a few generations ago didn’t live long enough to go through this. Some cultures just put the old geezer on an ice flow at the first sign of thinking polar bears and baby seals were too cute to kill.
Here we just let them go into politics. Or they retire early and drink themselves to death. At least while you are drunk you understand why your core strength and balance are askew. Women become more like companions. Young women become like daughters. Mood swings become the norm. They -- the oldest of the old -- tell me that it gets better once you’re past 60. Bullshit! You just get used to it.
I’m one of those idiots that only goes to the doctor for trauma and rot. Looks like I’ll be going a lot more now. Another traditional female trait. Sheesh! I have to go now. Oprah’s on.
*** Randy Tucker is a Victoria-based musician who likes to comment on the vagaries of aging.
