All Alone in a Crowded Room

Countless males of all ages have undoubtedly fantasized about and/or discussed what life might be like if you were the last man alive. Standard thoughts and high school locker room conversations on this subject usually focus on the undeniably favorable, yet grossly disproportionate male/female ratio. These musings generally assume the existence of a universal female libido that would make Madonna and Jenna Jameson look like nuns in a convent. However, dear friends, I write today to tell you that being the last man alive is a horribly depressing, bleak, and hopeless future that is not in any way reminiscent of a Hugh Heffner-esque Playboy Mansion lifestyle. How have I achieved such wisdom at so young an age? Today, for two hours, I was the only man in a dark world that we will call “Mama Mia.”

This last weekend Leslie made her final trip to visit me in Houston. We had a wonderful time, but one morning we decided to go see “Mama Mia.” I have grown up hearing the hit songs of ABBA and was more than willing to oblige my sweetheart in viewing a shameless chick flick (after all, being the world’s greatest husband requires constant work). As we entered the theater, I became acutely aware that there was not a single other male in the room. We sat in our seats for about ten minutes and watched as eager patrons continued to stream in, but when the lights went off, there were still no other men in the theater (bear in mind, I estimated that there were approximately 70 individuals watching this movie). There is nothing wrong being around many women, but when I appeared to be the only male in the city of Houston who was conned into seeing this movie by his significant other, I began to question some long held assumptions: Am I a man? Do I act like a man? After today, do I still deserve to be a man? Fortunately, as the previews were rolling, what appeared to be a male-shaped figure walked in and sat down. I breathed a sigh of relief, but as I watched him give three or four hugs to all the women he passed in finding his seat, I wondered if his particular brand of testosterone was a potent as I had hoped.

At any rate, the movie began and the enchanting Greek isles filled our hearts as brilliantly as they filled the silver screen. Overall, the movie wasn’t horrible; after all, ABBA can rock some pretty sweet tunes. However, there are few things that make me want to retreat into a dark winter of sexual hibernation like an aroused Meryl Streep creating innuendo with a power drill. Other than that, if you go to this movie be prepared for a lot of scenes involving girls clutching arms while jumping around in a circle screaming in excitement about an impending wedding.

In short, this movie experience awakened me to necessity for balance in all things. It is not good for man to be alone, nor is it good for a man to be alone with 68 women and one guy who’s masculinity is questionable (although, he probably had the same questions about me).