I Am Now A Certified Badass…Okay That Might Be A Slight Exaggeration

Our primary message here at the Big Dick Chronicles is “Go be awesome!” What sometimes gets left out of the equation is the companion message, “Go be humble!” You can brag about a lot of things, but being humble typically isn’t one of them.

Humbling stories generally aren’t the ones you want to tell in public, which is exactly why I’m going to tell you my most recent one.

(The next few paragraphs should be read with a deep undercurrent of sarcasm, otherwise you will come to the conclusion that I might be retarded.)

I have been a fan of martial arts since the days of my youth when Chuck Norris’ beard single-handedly conquered Cambodia. Since we were too poor for real lessons, my early training consisted of two hours of USA Networks Kung Fu Theater every Saturday afternoon. And then when I was 11, Jean Claude Van Damme released the ultimate at home training manual, Bloodsport.

This is considered a training manual in most developed countries.

You can find it in the “How To” section of your local library.

My point is that, even with no formal training, I consider myself fairly well versed in the ways of hand to hand combat. I wouldn’t call myself a badass, but that’s more a function of my self-deprecating nature.

(Okay, sarcasm off. That’s about all the bullshit I can handle.)

As I’ve mentioned before, my kids have been involved in Tae Kwon Do for almost six years now. This year, my twelve year old son got moved up to the adult class. Since I now have to be there for the adult class anyway, I decided to join them.

Stepping into this class has turned out to be quite the humbling experience. I’ve been there to help coach my two oldest children all the way to black belt level, but I am starting this class as a level one white belt. I am practicing the same forms and techniques that I helped teach my daughter when she was five.

Perhaps the hardest part is that I am prohibited from practicing any techniques or moves outside of my belt rank. When I spar with the other grown ups, I am limited to three types of kicks and no hands to the head. They joke that sparring me is like trying to play a Nintendo after years of playing an Xbox 360.

Perhaps hardest of all, my eight year old daughter got to break boards this week. I’m not even permitted to try.

How long has it been since you were brand new at something? More importantly, how long has it been since you were brand new at something and had to be tested on it?

Friday was my first test to move up in rank. There is one other white belt in our class, a thirteen year old named Caleb. He was my partner for all of the demonstrations we had to do.

He's like a fluffy little polar bear!

He’s like a fluffy little polar bear!

This is where you have to decide if an experience is going to humbling or humiliating.
I won’t lie; there was a moment when this process seemed a bit humiliating. I’m a grown ass man putting myself in front of a panel of judges, being evaluated on the same criteria as a 13 year old.

But isn’t that part of the test? No matter what your station in life, no matter how important you think you are, if you walk into a Tae Kwon Do class, you start as a white belt.
Being able to set aside your ego and let yourself be open to instruction is a vital part of the process.

I had a great time at the test. My main goal for the night was to keep encouraging my little white belt buddy. He was nervous as hell. Looking at it from his perspective, I’m pretty impressed by him. He was being judged on the same criteria as this obviously awesome Chuck Norris clone.

If I could grow a beard, I'd probably take over the world.

If I could grow a beard, I’d probably take over the world.

Once we have established ourselves as adults, nothing takes us out of our comfort zones quite so fast as being “new” again. I don’t particularly like feeling incompetent, but I also don’t  like thinking that I was too weak to put myself in that position.

So if you feel like you could use a good dose of humility, I encourage you to go learn something brand new. It is even more effective if there are a bunch of little kids involved who know more than you do.


Friday Night With No Kids! Let’s Do Something Different!

Like go to bed early.

As I’m mentioned before, we live in a rural area. We’re about an hour from anywhere big enough to go out for a night on the town. So it is a constant struggle to decide if we want to be out of the house for several hours, or just stay home and enjoy the quiet while we run around in our underwear.

I put these on as soon as the kids walk out the door.

I put these on as soon as the kids walk out the door.

This weekend, the in-laws took the kids overnight and we opted for staying in. I picked up a couple of nice KC strip steaks to throw on the grill and we settled in with some cheesy b-rated vampire movies.

"You aren't immortal. It just feels like it because this movie goes on FOREVER."

“You aren’t immortal. It just feels like it because this movie goes on FOREVER.”

And booze. My friend the home brewer sent us home with a bottle of his moscato wine last week and my wife popped the cork on Friday. Apparently he makes it pretty stout because, after two glasses, she was out like a light by 10:30.

We call this foreshadowing

We call this “foreshadowing.”

(I’m going to throw out a “readers discretion advised” warning here. So ladies, if you are squeamish about non-consensual sex topics, you may want to skip the rest of this.)

We often joke about the idea of having sex while she is asleep. Her general attitude has always been, “If you can get it done without waking me, have at it.”

I have never taken her up on this challenge. As you know, I’m working to overcome a severe “Nice Guy” personality. My hesitation is not a moral objection; my fear was based on the idea of her waking up and rejecting me and then I would feel like a complete tool. She says I’m just a pussy.

So here we are. I help her to bed and she is laid out topless in her skimpy underwear and stockings. “If you can get it done without waking me, have at it,” is running through my head. I know she won’t care. As long as she doesn’t get sick, we’ll laugh about it in the morning.

So what the hell, I went for it. It was such an awkward experience that I had to make myself stay with it to completion. She never moved a muscle. I made myself walk away and leave her laying there.

Understand, there is not an ounce of disrespect involved here. My wife is the light of my life. This was just about pushing my comfort zone, knowing that I was well within her comfort zone.

So I turned off the light and went downstairs. An hour later, I came back. Except for pulling the sheet over her, she hadn’t moved. I messed around with her for a few minutes, no reaction. She was out.

What the hell, let’s go for it.

Again, I made myself continue to completion, the whole time waiting for any hint of protest or discomfort. But it never happened. I finished and walked away.

I came to bed at 12:30. I had to push her legs over to her side of the bed and roll her onto her side so I could curl up behind her and tuck her in under the covers. I laid there beside her for about ten minutes and then I got curious. She was still soaking wet. How does that happen? I don’t know, but you know, what the hell.

This time I didn’t finish, just enjoyed her for a while and then curled up and fell asleep.

We woke up on Saturday, and I prepared to tell her about how the rest of the evening went. She beat me to it.
“You had fun last night.”
“Oh really? What do you remember?”
“You fucked me three times.”
“You remember that? How? You were out cold.”
“Nope. I remember all of it.”
“But you just laid there. You never even twitched. How is that possible?”
Shrugs. “I don’t know. Just glad you enjoyed it. I was worried I ruined your evening going to bed so early.”

There is still so much I need to learn about how you crazy women think.