Thoughts In The Key Of N

Dear Diary,

There is an unwritten code amongst men that we all abide by. When this code is acted against it creates a glaring exception, and these exceptions usually serve to tell us more about the individual’s current state than taken as any form of offence. But when the code is employed, the understanding is universal. It transcends language barriers, and connects all of us males. It is The Man Code.
I won’t go into the full details of the Man Code, but I will tell you of a few details, mainly to alleviate any fears of misogyny or confusion with other, less-powerful (and in my eyes, extremely stupid) Codes.
Firstly, “bro’s before ho’s” has absolutely nothing to do with The Man Code. Push any champions of this philosophy down a flight of stairs (or an escalator if you feel evil) Secondly, anyone who thinks The Man Code involves demanding women stay in kitchens and make the Man a sandwich, need to be pushed down an elevator shaft.
Thirdly, (and most importantly) one of the main tenements of The Man Code is no discussion will occur between men when using a public bathroom.

As mentioned previous, there is an exception to this – that exception is when the public bathroom is attached to a large sporting arena, or a nightclub/nightspot. In this cases, anyone who breaches the code is doing so in a state of inebriation. They do not know what they are doing, and so this particular behaviour is ignored by the more sober Man, and not taken offence to. (this does not mean a Man excuses other drunken behaviour, but rather this one is a rare lucky one) In these cases, an inebriated Man may loudly express his support regarding the sporting event, or he may sing along with whatever happened to be playing in the club. Other Men will be disappointed by this, but won’t call him out or chastise – it’s not the Way. Other infractions are treated with the same silence, but are often accompanied by a look of shame on behalf of the town cryer.

I was part of such an infraction. I know it was wrong, but the scenario caught me off-guard.

Stoically going about the business involved with visiting a bathroom, I was focused on the bleached white tiling before me. To my right, two porcelain receptacles along, a co-worker was doing the same. No eye contact, no acknowledgement – such is the almost monastic behaviour of the Man Code. All of a sudden, we could hear a song. Not just any song, but the ballad that has been assigned an anthem-like status regarding it’s connection to the film ‘Titanic’. The sound of lovelorn Celine Dion could be heard, emanating from…SOMEwhere. This was not the muffled sound of headphones, nor the accidentally triggered playback on a phone in a pocket. It was clear, it was ambient, it was mid-song.

My colleague spoke first. “Is that…Titanic?” I replied, my brain frozen by confusion. The tenements of the Code being a secondary, nay a tertiary consideration.

“It is. And it’s getting closer.” Our respective businesses were finished, and we left separately in an orderly manner.

Since then, not a word has been spoken of the Celine incident.

~ by nick on February 11, 2013.

Posted in Diary