I am a firm believer that every man should have his own Man Cave. This is not always possible. But it’s a great idea if there is any way you can swing it. Before you convince yourself that this is a belief I have only recently begun to have in the last few days (since deciding to become a capital H Housewife) I should mention that the Man Cave is not just for the man.
The Man Cave benefits everyone in the family. “Wanna listen to shitty German metal bands, Dad? Feel free. Let me invite you to spend the morning in your Man Cave.”
“You like that painting do you, Dad? Go ahead and buy it, sweetheart. It will look lovely in the Man Cave.”
MQD had a Man Cave in our old house. We had a three bedroom. One for us, one for Em and one for MQD’s desk, his creepy painting, his porn-addled single guy computer and his Don’t Tread on Me flag push-pinned to the wall. It was perfect.
And then we moved. To our Grown Up house. And we have three bedrooms. One for us, one for Em and one that is theoretically Lucy’s, but it is actually for the grandparent’s. The Guest Room for now, but frankly, a new baby brings just one kind of frequent guests. Grandparents.
We no longer have a Man Cave. I campaigned briefly to turn the shed in to the Man Cave. But it fell on deaf ears. Occasionally we discuss getting a new shed, and wiring it. And then I start to get jealous, and say we need TWO sheds if it will actually end up an auxiliary living room in the back yard. Indoor/outdoor carpeting and a window unit air conditioning unit and it starts sounding like a dream come true. Add in a thrift store couch, a mini fridge and a three foot tall bong and suddenly I’m in college and foot loose and fancy free… I need only step in the back yard turn up the Beastie Boys and…. Sigh. I got lost there for a moment. Mom Caves are a totally different animal. They exist only in the recesses of my mind.
And really the main reason every house needs a Man Cave is because the rest of the house is Mom Town. Let’s face it. I don’t get to ban the rest of the family from any of the rooms. I pee with the door open and frequently entertain a guest while pooping. But much of the house is my domain.
And now sometimes there are moments that I think “Damn, I wish we had a room for weird shit that I know Mike will LOVE.” Today I wished I was that footloose gal with expendable income and a boyfriend that had his own place. Because I saw something that I wanted to buy for this boy I am crazy about. He would have been over the moon.
For now, just know I haven’t forgotten.
I went to the mall today. And I wanted to bring this woman home for my husband. But sadly we don’t have a spare bedroom or a basement. Some day, my love. Some day…