It’s not intentional. There are plenty of men who don’t cry. Guys think that tears might reduce their machismo to the level of an eleven year old girl finding out that their favorite singer in One Direction is a smack abuser. Hmm, maybe shouldn’t have made such a non-masculine reference.

Note – I have never listened  to a One Direction song. Man card reclaimed!

I’m not exactly macho. Well, I do take care of my woman which I consider masculine. I don’t, however, get into fights, grow out my beard, yell at the television when my team loses, frequent strip clubs, or enjoy action movies. I ain’t a guy’s guy.

I am similar to the macho-archetype in one area – I don’t cry. Like ever.

This, of course, is not entirely true. I’ve cried during some of the toughest moments of my life. We all have. But I’m betting it’s less than twenty times total.

Instead of looking at my crylessness (not a word) with a psychological lens, I’ve accepted that fact that for the most part I just don’t do it. Some of us are just built that way.

There is something that always got me, however.  Extreme Home Makeover.

I caught around twelve episodes of the show and each time I weeped like a baby. Those producers are emotional terrorists! Scenes are edited to squeeze any and all feelings of depression and elation out of your eyelids. I broke down every time and enjoyed the ride.

Seeing the squalor the family was living in at the beginning of the show was always the first mile marker in this crying marathon. Then the show would send them to Disney World (or, if they were less lucky, Universal Studios).

The crew would demolish the old house (another time to cry), and then start construction on a new mansion.  Those houses always had way more bedrooms than normal. If the family had eight children, there would be eight bedrooms. And each would be outfitted to whatever the kid was into at the time. Which is a fine idea until five years later when the child is in high school and trying to score. It’s just not ideal to bring the prom queen up to your “Dude Ranch” themed bedroom.

Ty’s special project was always one of the big moments of the show. He was always doing something crazy. I think I saw an episode where he built a room that doubled as an iron lung.

But the biggest crying moment came when producers brought the family back from vacation. Straight from the airport in a limo still wearing Goofy hats, they would be lined up behind a giant bus. Half the town would be there hooting and hollering. I suspect they were really yelling at the family out of jealousy and not support. The editors, though, would have deleted out anyone yelling, “You rot!”

When the Greyhound pulled away, that family would face-plant into the gravel crying (they always lived on a gravel-road street). I lost it every time.

Then they’d run around their new house and I’d cry even more.

It is cathartic to cry, I believe. And now that the show has been canceled I haven’t found a replacement. I’d like to get back to it because the show has been off the air for several years now. This baby needs to wail!

I’ve thought about buying entire seasons on DVD but I don’t think it will have the same impact. I’d just be thinking about all the money the family had to pay the government because the home is technically income, and that they probably couldn’t afford the property taxes and all that. It’s too depressing. Not fun crying, either. Just sad.

So, I’m going to start searching for my next cry-show. I need it to be about how someone overcomes tragedy or personal loss. I’m tired of being so desperate to cry that I put my face down next to chopped onions. And don’t suggest that I start feeling my feelings as that might trigger some tears – while true, I’m still a guy for chrissakes. We don’t do that.

My blog certainly isn’t the most hilarious on the web (well, nobody tells a story about seeing my dad’s penis like me), but it’s decently funny. Sure I use too many adverbs, but, you know what? I goddamn well like adverbs. It’s me and since I don’t know how to write with better grammatical sense, I let it slide. A big-deal professor recently told me I write well. So there, inner critic D.J.!

Sometimes I get squishy and talk about feelings and other non-funny topics. Once I even mentioned I cry during Extreme Home Makeover.

Who pays the taxes on those houses? I’m assuming the family previously living with toxic mold in the baby’s crib-room isn’t going to be able to shell out 15k annually for an new eight bedroom, six bath palatial mansion Ty and co. raised in three days.

So, while I’m not topping the charts of Google for anything boast-worthy these days, I’m having a hell of a lot of fun.

Just yesterday I launched a new videocast with my pal Karen called oSex. It stands for “Opposite Sex” and we provide love and relationship advice to readers. I also have my weekly interview series Bloggers are Weird where I talk to other writers and they read their crap live. I published a book last month of my best material that people actually bought. I crossed 50k Twitter followers two weeks back.

While this may sound like bragging, I assure you it isn’t. I am surprised to witness all of that has happened. The magician who pulls a rabbit out of his hat and is entertained as much as the audience. That’s me.

This all started because a woman at a party told me her dream was to quit being a partner at a prestigious law firm and become an  archaeologist. When I saw her eyes light up as she explained that she was more passionate about Italian ruins than anything else I  knew I had to do something with my creativity. So I tried my hand at writing.

Since then things have unfolded. I make a little bit of money each month from the site. No, nothing has gone viral. No major accolades or awards. But I get to be myself. Another website pays me to write for them every other week. I’m on the board of a non-profit site devoted to raising awareness of mental health issues. I get a few nice emails every week from readers.

All of this exists today as a result of me exploring passion.

And yes, I still have massive issues in my life. I fall in love with women who don’t want me. I give my self-esteem away because I can’t give it to myself. I need constant validation that I’m okay from people in my life. Just last night I hurt a great friendship by acting inappropriately. I have challenges and often not the resources to cope. I’m unfixed.

Life ebbs and flows whether I want it to or not. I can’t do much in the way of controlling circumstances. It’s the greatest joke played on me – that I have influence. I really don’t. But what I can do is put my head down and keep going. Pick up the keyboard, sit down, and get to work. Tell the truth. Be funny. Share what’s hard.

Thank you for reading, commenting, sharing, and supporting. While I struggle nothing helps me like a funny or thoughtful sentence from you.

And just to prove to you I haven’t lost the previously earned #1 spot on Google for “funny blogs” I’ll be relaying tomorrow a story where I insulted a sex worker by accident and she shamed the shit out of me. It’s pretty great.