Graduation

There are few promotions awaiting the manopausal male.  He has already graduated many times in order to achieve his lowly position and, with the exception of death, he does not expect another move up the ranks.  He is, however, exceptionally glad to see his daughter graduate from college and reminds her every day that she has much to look forward to . . . including tapping into his life savings so that she can, someday, place him in a nursing home facility so he can play with large rubber balls.

In the meantime, the manopausal male is rejoicing that he has managed to shell out nearly $100,000 in college costs and still be able to purchase new underwear.  He reminds his daughter that he has sacrificed much for this degree, including (but not limited to):  eating tree bark and pretending it is beef jerky; wandering the streets at night looking for pennies on the sidewalk; selling his spleen on eBay.

The manopausal male also expects the university to name a building after him.  Or, if they can't recall his name, he hopes they will allow him to select a name of his own choosing . . . perhaps a name like The Wendell Keiffer Motor Lodge (dorm), or Sanitized for Your Protection (Greek/Fraternal bathhouse), or Becky's Harem (women's dorm). 

But his daughter is the graduate and she deserves so much better than the manopausal father.  That is why he lavishes her with love and purchases entire tanks of gasoline and sends her off to the home of his future in-laws with the admonition:  "Here's another twenty for nail polish!"

A graduation is also a reminder that there will soon be an empty chair at the dinner table.  Or two . . . if the cat dies.  There is an air of sadness at the thought that the graduate will soon be exiting the home with two tons of boxed goods, and the eternal optimism of the father who says, "Get a job!"

Naturally, the manopausal male can now set his sights on other lofty goals, such as eating a full bag of black licorice without worrying about flatulence, or returning to the habit of telling his wife that he "loves her more than vanilla pudding", or even showering on a regular basis.  Now that his daughter is leaving, and is no longer at home to reign him in, his insanity can blossom into full-blown dementia. 

He will eat out more often.  And he is, at last, eager to give up his four-year diet of stewed prunes.