So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

I can cross my legs. I’m not bragging; I’m just saying. Of course, being an extremely manly man, by “cross my legs” I mean rest my right ankle/calf/shin on my left knee. This is a typical masculine pose for a man who is holding court in his corner office—hands behind head—regaling hilarious stories of debauchery and excess or, in my case, waiting at Great Clips for a $6.99 haircut because I have a coupon my wife clipped out of a mailer. So yeah, I can cross my legs … for like three or four minutes, until my leg starts to get numb. I have long legs. This is how I have lived my life—crossing my legs like a man during moments of idleness until my leg goes numb. Well, not anymore. All of a sudden—seriously, this happened overnight—I am crossing my legs the real way. Like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct , before that thing happened that put me through puberty. Like, you know, a woman, OR, in my case, a mature man oozing comfort in his own skin. Like most men (?), I occasionally exp...