In Defense of the “Manbag”

Now, I tend to carry a lot of crap around with me. Too much crap to stuff into my various pockets. And even when I am traveling with the bare-minimum, I cannot stand the feeling of anything in my pockets, particularly the ones in back. It makes sitting an uncomfortable chore, not to mention reducing the profile of my shapely buttocks to a bumpy, sharp-cornered mess.

I guess I could have bought cargo pants; you know, the ones with myriads of pockets scattered about. But, at 46 years old, I kinda look like a dork wearing something clearly designed for someone half my age or less. No, I needed another solution.

Therefore, I bought myself the “Manbag”--a purse for guys. Mine came compliments of my good friends at Timbuk2, makers of professional-grade messenger bags. My Manbag (called the “Mini” by its manufacturers--isn’t that masculine?) has pockets, zippers and compartments galore. It also has Velcro and buckles to keep things secure--after all, do I want even manlier men stealing my stuff? No sir.

So, now I carry all my stuff in style. Sure, I have to endure some teasing from some small-minded people (my 16-year-old nephew snidely refers to it as a "Murse”--what a dopey name). However, I know where everything is and my buttocks look as shapely as ever.



A little high-tensile twine and this puppy closes up tighter than Fort Knox.