"I'm...sick...."

Why is it that men can endure extreme temperatures, clogged toilets, spider-infested crawl spaces and broken down cars...but the common cold can reduce them to whimpering babies?

I should have known it was coming. The other night he began to moan. Quietly...with his lower lip protruding just slightly...he began to complain. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, and shuffled through the house, waiting to be asked what was wrong.

The next morning he could not move. His voice came out in weak, broken sentences. He began to sound like a hoarse William Shatner: "I'm...not feeling....so well." He finally crawls out of bed, an hour later than normal, and somehow dresses himself for work. He needs help opening the DayQuil.

Upon returning home, where he weakly boasts of his ability to get through the work day, he collapses on the chair, once again unable to move. He asks for water. And for me to feel his forehead. I tease him about whether or not he behaved this way at work...asking his boss to bring him drinks and kiss him on the cheek. He is not amused.

I am reminded of a video I once saw. At least I know that I am not alone. There is actually a term for this phenomenon: The Man Cold. This is dedicated to all the women in my life who have also had to deal with "Man Colds."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mz6DktXFvg4