I think I am a man! Yeah, I know, pretty weird statement huh? After all, shouldn't I have known I have been a man for 25 years now - or arguably at least 7 years. Sure, but...

One of my biggest concerns about buying a home was that I am like the least handy person in the history of all people. And because I wasn't the one who was lucky enough to marry a wife that was the handy-woman of the house, I have to admit, I was nervous about home ownership because of my lack of "construction" skills.

But that all changed this week and I think I can finally admit: I am a man. Why? Because I installed a new faucet in the downstairs bathroom and I installed finger print locks on my door all by myself¹.

I first saw the Price Pfister Ashfield faucet at my ex-girlfriend's lake house - and from the moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it. It has such style. Such creativity. Such, well, grace. I liked the lake house version better (it was Ventian Bronze), but I knew that wouldn't ever match anything in my bathroom, so I went with Polished Nickel. It looks awesome. It actually makes me want to wash my hands after going to the bathroom.

Also, if you know anything about me, you know that I hate having stuff on my body (No watch. No jewelry. I don't even want to wear a wedding ring it is that bad). Keys fall into this category. I hate carrying keys. So when I heard that Kwikset developed Fingerprint Locks, I knew I had to have them. Plus, I am always giving people keys to my house because I like the fact my home is a hangout for the 20-somethings of Alpharetta, GA (even when I am not there), and this makes it that much easier to do.

But this isn't about biometric security devices that show my OCD or an appreciation for artistic faucets that might imply that I am gay. This is about gender identity, and the little things in life that confirm we are the people we want to be.

I think about the time my dad moved me out to college when I was 19. It was just the two of us, and it was a really good weekend. I remember we didn't have anything to do one night in LA, so he went and found Dodger tickets. Sometime in the middle of the game we went to get hot dogs. He got a beer and asked me if I wanted one.² I politely declined (because I really am not a drinker), but in that moment I remember feeling like a man. I remember feeling like my dad approved of who I was growing up to be. I remember feeling that I could handle life on my own in Los Angeles because of that simple act.

It was such a little thing you know? Just like a faucet install. But the older I get, the more I realize how often we fail to recognize these simple life moments which are so important. Even right now, I am tearing up a bit thinking about it - which probably negates the manliness of the handiwork.