The Curse...

I work in an office of predominantly women. Other than my boss, I am the only guy here most of the time, and I usually spend my day listening to man-bashing, baby stories, the latest drama on 'Desperate Housewives', and all kinds of things I do not NEED to be hearing about their sex lives, or lack thereof. And I can tell you exactly when each one of them starts. Yes, that's right, I am talking about their menstrual cycles.

Now here is the scary part. They know exactly when mine starts as well. I am a firm believer that men have a 'cycle' as well. Just without the cramps and that awful, um, staining. I know that at least once a month, I am going to have a couple of days where I am going to turn into mega bitch. Anyone who even looks at me the wrong way is going to get a mouthful of expletives and walk away feeling battered and abused. Or else I will be sitting at home watching tv and have a total cathartic breakdown over an episode of 'Extreme Home Makeover' (don't laugh, you know you have all been there). My hormones go into overdrive, I have dreams about Marky Mark, and I wake up wishing I had someone special that I could do all kinds of unmentionable things to.

Call it a testosterone spike, call it 'the visitor', call it 'manopause' for the over 40 set. I don't care what you call it. There is no use denying, it happens to us all. Just depends on how we handle it. You can take it in stride and realize that in a day or two you will be back to normal. Or you can do as I do (and as I suspect women have always done) and use it as an excuse to act even more nuts than usual. Now, after I eat this cheese danish and down this Mountain Dew, I think I'll go put a sign on my office door that says 'The Bitch is Back...Enter At Your Own Risk'.