Greetings Watersfive readers, welcome to the second installment of E-Male, rants delivered straight from the mind of your average male-man (who in this case, happens to he Jamie’s husband). Thanks for all the comments last week, a great discussion ensued. Keep it coming. I have to admit, this week’s topic, “why leaving clothes around the house is a sign we love you,” started out as a joke, but your enthusiastic response compelled me to search for some “meaning in our mess.” And what did I find? Well, read on good visitor, and see how with the right perspective, the sight of our dirty clothes may just become music to your eyes.

First, if you think you’re alone in your sea of dirty man-laundry, you’re not. A recent study by Roto Rooter found that nothing peeves newlywed brides more than the sight of their spouse’s clothes strewn about the bathroom floor. (Am I the only one that thinks the transition from plumbing to social research is a bit of a reach?) Frankly, this finding surprised me, I would have thought the classic feau paux tandem of leaving the seat up, and peeing on the seat when it’s left down would have won hands down. I guess that just goes to show how much I know. (Incidentally, men surveyed indicated their biggest pet peeve was when their spouse’s hair sheds over everything, which reminded me of the time I asked Jamie to wear a hair net in the house- guess how that went over).

All this got me to thinking, if it bothers women as much as it does, why is it that we men can’t seem to find the hamper? Is this a universal problem, or one isolated to the American male? And why is it that only girls grow out of this very annoying habit? And, perhaps most importantly, what does this habit reveal about us men?

To the first question, I’m pretty sure this is NOT a problem unique to the American male. For one thing, I’m a first class offender and I’m not American. For another, I was recently in India, and can attest that on top of driving like maniacs, Indian men, like their American coutnerparts, are beset with the notion that any old chair can be converted into a coat hanger if only fixed with enough clothing for a long enough period of time. Asia, Australia, and North America, evidence on three continents; I think we can assume this is a global phenomenon. So ladies, put down the catalog, Petrov the houseboy from Russia is not the solution to your problem, cute and affordable as he may be.

If it’s not a regional issue, it must just be a man issue. What in our DNA compels us to scatter our clothes as we undress rather than folding them or simply dropping them into the hamper? And I’m talking all men here, even the rich ones. I mean, have you ever been in a men’s locker room at a golf club (you don’t have to answer that, Auts) Towels all over the floor. Seriously, a room full of well educated gentleman that just spent five hours knocking a tiny white ball into a tiny round hole 400 yards away, but can’t manage to drop their cottons into the hamper that lays ready at their side. Now, the easy out would be to say men are just messy, but the thing is, in my case, this doesn’t hold water. I’m a neat freak, almost obsessively so. I am in love with my Dyson, and clean bathrooms for fun. And yet, a quick trip the my house will reveal that I am one of the culprits. I can’t manage to put my clothes where they belong. You want to know what I wore yesterday? That outfit is strewn over my wife’s desk chair. Saturday? Check the foot of the bed, Friday? It’s on the carpet next to the hamper. Thursday? Buried under Friday. And on and on…

Alternatively, one might suggest that men are just lazy. But even this doesn’t hold: The number one place to find my clothes? The bathroom, where, you guessed it, we store our hamper. This is probably one of those it takes more muscles to frown than smile things. If anything, spreading our clothes throughout the home takes more energy than simply dropping them in the hamper, especially for guys like me whose wives are wise enough to know that we will eventually clean the mess out of necessity (which is usually only when it becomes impossible to navigate from bedroom to shower.)

We all do it, whether we’re messy or clean by nature, lazy or driven at our core, rich of poor. So to what can you attribute this universal phenomenon? What can you glean about men that you did not know before? Bottom line, I have no idea. I simply can’t find any meaning in our mess. Excepting maybe this: the only possible signal that that pile of clothes is sending you is that we’re still here, and if we’re still here, as is evidenced by those clothes, then chances are we love you. So, ask yourself this, oh great lovers of men: Could it be that, maybe, the only thing worse than a floor littered with our dirty clothes, is one that isn’t? (Don’t answer that one, Jamie)

NEXT WEEK: The answer guy. Send me your toughest questions, because I’ve got all the answers.