Domestic Oblivion

Life With My Geek: The Cave Phenomenon

I’ve got myself a geek that works from home, mostly.  Sometimes he gets (has) to get on an airplane and gets (has) to spend a week working in a different location, eating out and meeting new people.  My geek doesn’t really look forward to these weeks.  He’d much rather be at home, working away all safe and snug in his man cave, which I affectionately refer to as the Dave Cave.

Unlike Davie-O, I like getting out.  I like crowds.  I like loud music.  AND I like Guinness on tap.  All this led me to purchase tickets to see the Reverend Peyton and his Big Damn Band at the Neurolux last week.  Normally, I never invite Davie-O to go to concerts with me because he doesn’t like crowds, doesn’t really like loud music, couldn’t name 98% of the bands I listen to, and he doesn’t like Guinness.  But this time, I invited him because I just knew he would put up with all the things he didn’t really like to be able to watch the Reverend’s wife play her washboard.  I promise you, it is a sight to behold.

The following conversation ensued when I issued my invite:

Me:  Want to come see the Reverend Peyton and his Big Damn Band with me tonight?

Dave:  Well.  Sort of.  But I have a lot to do.

Me:  If you have too much work, I understand.  (‘cause I try to be understanding about that stuff…)

Dave:  But…..well, maybe I can go.

Me:  It’s OK if you can’t go.

Dave:  No, I’ll go.  I’ll just bring my laptop.

Me:  No.

Dave:  Yeah, I’ll come and just bring the Dell.

Me:  No.

Dave:  What do you mean, “no”?  It’ll be fine.

Me:  No.

Dave:  Well, what am I supposed to do while we’re there?

Me:  It’s a concert.  Seriously?  We’re going to sit there, have a beer, and listen to the music.

Dave:  That’s it? 

Me:  It’s a CONCERT.

Dave:  Well, that’s a poor use of time.

At this point rescind my invitation.  He back pedals a bit, and then offers to come without the Dell.  Then I totally bust him by telling him he wouldn’t be allowed to work on his iPhone either.  He wandered off muttering about poor time allocation and the comfort of his Dave Cave.

Yesterday afternoon I walked into the living room to adjust the blinds.  While I was leaning over the couch, I just happened to look behind it.  Behind the couch was the 13 year old uber-geek boy.  He was wedged into the corner with a pillow and a blanket.  When I asked him what he was doing he said he was “reading in the boy cave”.

Really, at 13, he needs a cave? 

I don’t fully understand the man cave phenomenon.  It mystifies me, and leaves me feeling vaguely unsettled.  I wonder if needing a cave when you’re 13 increases or lessens your need for an elaborate man cave in adulthood.  I don’t believe I’ve ever met a woman who has uttered the words “I need” and “cave” in the same sentence.

Davie-O is in Vegas this week.  I talked with his last night,  and he told me about his fabulous accommodations and the great sushi he had for dinner; he followed that up with a rather lengthy, wistful yearning for being home in the Dave Cave.

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