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A monologue from the play by Lewis Gardner
Bob
Hey, guys: here’s something women will never understand. It’s our own masculine secret, just as they have all their secrets that are totally obscure to us.
Like when they talk about “relationships” and “commitment.” What the hell are those? Listen: there’s something about a hardware store. Right?
You walk inside and you see all this useful stuff. Even if it’s only potentially useful? You see the wiring you could use to fix that lamp—
when you get around to it—or a drill bit if you ever have to drill a hole more than an inch in diameter. Furthermore, there’s something in the air.
Maybe it’s the machine oil you’re breathing in. It goes directly to the place in your brain that tells your body to produce testosterone.
It feels terrific! Am I right, guys? It’s the total opposite effect from walking into a shop that sells candles, baskets, and potpourri.
You know, when your wife drags you in? Nothing lowers the testosterone like the smell of jasmine . Or ylang ylang.
What the hell is ylang ylang? One whiff and the old testosterone level heads right for the floor!
All right, all right, you think I’m being defensive, I’m insecure, you can measure my doubts about my masculinity by all the miscellaneous hardware supplies in my garage.
You’ll say there’s an inverse relationship between the weight of my unused hardware and my sense of security about my masculinity.
Yeah, right. That’s like questioning the masculinity of guys who are into motorcycles and wearing leather pants.
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