He Rolls

One guy I know has one in his bathroom and another in his study. My ex stashed them under the sink, on tabletops, in the garage. My steady has two in his car--one in the trunk, one under the seat. Other men I know do this too. They seem to feel it necessary; they seem to feel it will keep them and their families safe. They have faith.

I watch the way men act in stores that sell them, with a connoisseur’s reverence, gently hefting the weight, gauging the power. These men all have their preferred models. My steady brings me two as a gift--one for my car. I tell him no. I tell him I respect the choices he has made in his life but I do not share his obsession with paper towels, preferably by the 250-count roll.

I don’t think I saw clearly the deep and meaningful relationship men (OK, Officer Hyperbole, many men) have with paper towels until one evening last summer when a girlfriend and I were unloading groceries. While helping us, her husband made a small sound of pain. Turning, we saw that he held a new roll of paper towels, squeezing it in both hands like Joe Montana just before throwing a bomb.

“See this,” he said, holding the roll horizontal so that we could see the eye of the tube wink at us as he squeezed. “These have no bulk, no absorbency, they’re useless, absolutely useless.” If he had added, “for the love of God, Montresor,” he could not have sounded more desperate.

I realize that anecdotal evidence can be misleading, but I have seen men use paper towels to: wash dishes, dry dishes, clean a whole porch, dust, wipe wet doggy paws, pack dishes and glassware, wash a car, wipe away the tears of small children, and scrub food and/or condiments from items of clothing (creating a mess ringed by little pills of paper shreds every time).

I have seen men use paper towels as napkins, as plates, as coasters, as coffee filters, as bath towels (don’t ask), as note paper and, of course, toilet paper; to make pillows, to make fire, to make ice packs, to bandage a wound and to make pieces missing from a checkers game. I think I have seen a man use paper towels to diaper a baby, but that might have been on TV.

These were not actions committed under duress, in emergency situations when a more appropriate tool--like a Band-Aid or a sponge--was unavailable. No, these were deliberate choices, made by men who seem to think that paper towels grow on trees, which they do, and come at no cost to budget, environment or the psychic well-being of any female witness, which they don’t.

See, women believe in certain things, like sponges and tea towels, china and linen, terry cloth and tissues. We were taught to wring out, rinse, wash, reuse. We were taught to tear up old sheets and T-shirts into dust cloths, to never cross caste lines when it comes to paper products, to trust in a towel reincarnation system whereby old bath towels become floor-mopping towels, then dog towels; old tea towels become dishrags; and old dishrags are used to polish the silver before being relegated to the fire-hazard pile in the garage. Nirvana.

Paper towels, as most women understand them, are for sudden, low-volume liquid spills, cleaning windows and mirrors, and picnics. I do not comprehend their usefulness in the car; my steady mutters something about when oil or radiator fluid gets on your hands, but the confluence of events that would have to occur for such a thing to happen to me in this lifetime would render the helpfulness of paper towels moot. Paper towels were of no use, if I remember correctly, in “Mad Max.”

Of course, I have no children. My friends who do assure me that the habitual presence of children in your vehicle changes, among many other things, your relationship with the paper towel; one roll per seat is optimal.

I asked several of my more forthcoming male friends about their devotion to the paper towel. The disposable nature of the thing seems to be the major draw. Sponges are messy, towels get wet and stay wet, dishes and dust cloths you have to wash and then dry. Too many steps, too much commitment. Paper towels are the search-and-destroy household cleaning product--you’re in, you’re out, you’re gone and I think we can all see where this is heading, can’t we?

One man said that all you really need in a kitchen or a bath is a spoon, a coffee cup and a roll of paper towels. Of course this is the same man who thinks that all you really need in a living room is a chair, a lamp and a single spider plant. Minimalism, sweetie, is very hot.

I can’t help but think that the late Nancy Walker is behind all of this. Remember when she was Rosie the wisecracking waitress who shilled for Bounty? She was always talking to the guys, the clumsy behemoths who came to her lunch counter for, it would seem, the sole purpose of spilling their coffee or their soup or their grape juice. Rosie never yelled, she never swore, she never told them they were the worst little boys she had ever seen.

She simply smiled and wiped their mess away. The perfect mom. And then, as an added boy bonus, she showed them this really, really nifty trick, remember? She’d run the paper towel under the tap and then balance a coffee cup and a saucer on it to show how strong it was even when wet. The spot would end with her patting the product, nodding benevolently and saying, “Bounty: the quicker picker-upper. Strong too.” You don’t have to be a classically trained Freudian to figure that one out.