Welcome back to all of you out there who were eagerly awaiting another installment in the ''male'' series. To quickly recap my past two articles, I tried to explain what ''male'' means and then I expanded that into the very divisive and serious topic of ''love of pants.''
I got more comments regarding the article about jeans than I had ever expected, and I believe that is because I struck a chord - all males like their jeans.
To expand a little further into the unbelievably complex and often terrifying psyche of the male mind, I want to offer to all of you a thought: If you can cook it outside, a male will eat it.
We got a small glimpse of what it can be like in northeastern Ohio in spring time just last week when the temperatures neared 60 degrees and that large ball of light was hanging high in the sky surrounded by nothing but blue. It was a beautiful thing, and we paid for it this week with another snow storm and temperatures that make even the most hardened of Eskimos say, ''I've had enough!''
But during those couple days of nice weather there was one thing on every male's mind: ''Let's grill!''
So across the Mahoning Valley and northeastern Ohio, males pulled their grills from their hibernating spots, ripped off the covers and burned off the spider webs in preparation for cooking some meat outside.
This is one of the most basic of male desires and a surefire way to ensure that he will cook without complaint.
This also may be the closest to fulfilling our primal desires to do what our caveman brethren did so many years ago. No, I can not kill a mastodon and then supply my family with meat, shelter and piano keys. But I can go to my local grocer or butcher, purchase meat that someone else killed and another person cut in preparation for me to take it home and throw it on the grill. And, yes, I will take all the credit for that delicious piece of meat.
The allure is simple - we get to stand outside without worrying about dropping things and making a mess and cook over an open fire (contained safely within the grilling elements) and prepare the meat just as we like it.
Personally, I like my red meat done medium. My wife likes hers as tough as leather, but it works because I'm outside with my grill and grill tools that came in a handy briefcase-style carrier like I'm carrying around a cache of diamonds.
Granted, I really like cooking. Whether it is in the kitchen or in my driveway, I really like to cook, but there is nothing better than a burger or steak on the grill. Perhaps it is because there is smoke involved, which is normally frowned upon inside a house, or that the only thing between my burger and the flame is a grill rack and not some type of cast-iron skillet or celebrity endorsed ''grill'' machine of which I have two.
It is a reconnection with nature, aided by a tank of propane gas just like the cavemen had.
This is, of course, not to say that females don't enjoy grilled meat. I know for a fact that many of them do, but there is rarely any case when a male will volunteer his time and energy to anything with the excitement and commitment of grilling dinner.
Ask any male to go outside and shovel the driveway, rack the leaves or mow the lawn. They will do it, but at a pace reserved only for those tasks and going to the mall.
But ask a male if they would fire up the grill for dinner, and they will be outside in their ''Hail to the Chef'' apron holding a pair of tongs and a bottle of BBQ sauce before the thought has had time to hit their brain.