It doesn’t matter if you’re a married man who seeks refuge from the female rabble that infest your home or a single bachelor that requires a place to escape the reality that you are left alone to tend to duties that would normally fall on the females in your household. If there were any.
It could be that you just need a place of refuge to sort out answers to the questions that plague the male mind: How do I get that strange women out of my bed and apartment without addressing her by her name… that I don’t remember? Why do I have to express my feelings? Can I lock up my teenage daughter until she’s 30 years old? How do I get my 30 year old daughter to move out on her own? etc.
As a once married man I have fond that a ‘Man Cave’, whether in physical or a mental form, is necessary for ones sanity, especially in dealing with one needs that were formerly handled by women. New found needs of a poor disposed of husband cast out into the cold harsh world where there is no apparent answer to the question, “If you have to separate whites from colors, then why don’t you have to separate reds from blues from greens, etc.?
To deal with these formerly senseless concerns and trivia, the place for mental and if possible physical refuge, whether married or single, becomes paramount. There needs to be a mental cue or a physical place where your environment signals your mind that you are free to escape these concerns. That it’s time to take a breath, wipe your mind and clear your soul.
Whether it’s a dedicated room or space in the basement, a favorite spot on the couch, an easy chair, or the throne room, where you can lock the door and know well that all will fear the consequences of opening that door at the wrong moment.
Even if its just the physical act of putting your fingers in your ears and reciting a monkish chant; “LaLaLaLa” to drown out the physical world and release your mind for more productive examination of the greater world around you, “Why don’t easy chairs come with wheels?”
The unfortunate truth though is that as I have aged I have succumbed to old man tendencies that never garnered my attention before (a craving for plaid is not yet one of them). Tendencies and cravings that could never be exposed to the scorn and scrutiny of the so called weaker sex.
Things such as… hats. Because of my large brain I have never been comfortable with baseball caps (one size does not fit all if your size is 7 3/8 with a haircut). As I entered middle age I shunned the idea further because of a fear that hats contributed to baldness, and then when I realized baldness wasn’t going to be a problem I wanted to flaunt the fact that I still had all my hair (and teeth too, but that’s another story). But lately Fedoras, Panama Jack, and cowboy hats have appealed to me, but hat care and etiquette were new encounters for me. “Does this hat make me look fat?”
So too was the case of neck ties. Thirty years ago I knew how to tie a tie, but after 30 years of casual wear as a postal worker I have forgotten how to tie one. The occasional shirt and tie event sent shivers down my spine in the fear that my clip-on would be discovered.
As someone who grew up in the ‘shaving cream in a can’ era I recently switched to an old fashion shaving mug and brush with no expertise in its proper use. Help.
Having lacked or forgotten early male training in several areas, gathering information pertaining to these more natural masculine needs (i.e.., I’m a man, I don’t belong in the kitchen). It is apparent that a physical or mental sanctuary is a requirement for maintaining everyman's sanity. A Man Cave is needed.
Ladies, get over it.