After this past weekend, I have a pretty good idea of what it was like to be Big ... you know, Carrie's boyfriend from the tv show Sex and the City. Oh ... you really don't know who I'm talking about, huh?
Yes, I'll admit that I have watched Sex and the City late at night when Sports Center is over and I can't fall asleep. And yes, I'll hand in my "man card" right away.
Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda were some of Mahattan's finest socialites who never found a party or vodka martini they didn't like. Often times, Big was just along for the ride hoping he would survive the night.
When I went to visit my newly ordained "girl friend" this past weekend at Mizzou, I felt the exact same way. Being around your significant other within the friendly confines of each other is one thing, but when you add her posse to the equation, you can never be too sure what will happen.
To make a long story short, I did in fact survive and my girlfriend's friends liked me alot- or so I was told. So after a wild and sometimes rough weekend at Mizzou, it's back to normalcy as I ask myself how I ever survived college.
So after I make this blog post, I plan to watch all the Rambo movies, lift weights without a shirt on, eat a rare-cooked steak and possibly grow a beard to somehow hopelessly redeem my man-hood after using a Sex and the City analogy in a blog that is suppose to document my manly and testerone-driven adventures.
To all of man-hood, I apologize.
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