Man caves

My wife and I are starting to think about buying a house. Although it seems like a big decision, it's actually thousands of small decisions, all of which seem critically important. You have to think about the price, of course, and the location, but those are easy.

The little things are the killers. We like to cook -- could we live with a galley kitchen? Is a big yard a positive or a negative, considering the cost and effort of maintaining it? How much of a factor are outdated fixtures, appliances, and decor? And then of course, there's the most important consideration of all: Is there room for a man cave?

The man cave has gained some serious cultural traction over the past few years (it's even the subject of a show on the DIY Network). It's the space in the house -- usually in a finished basement -- that belongs solely to the more testosterone-fueled member of the family. Lots of guys deck out their man caves with sports memorabilia, or superhero decals, or video games, or other stuff you'd think we'd have grown out of around the time we got our driver's licenses.

Space for a man cave is my number one priority in looking for a home. Sure, I'd like to live in a decent commuter location, preferably in a walkable community, with good schools and all, should that day ever come. But all that is less important than having a place to play my fake plastic musical instruments really loud.

Some people might think that the man cave is a relic of an older, less enlightened time, when husbands ran the show. I disagree. If anything, the man cave is the clearest sign yet that today's male runs nothing. 500 years ago, a guy my age would have been a grandfather. I feel like taking care of a houseplant is too big a responsibility. The man cave is a bone that society has thrown us: Act like an adult everywhere else and, okay, we'll let you put a Batman Fathead on your wall. Better than having you in a board room somewhere making important economic decisions.

Frankly, I'm surprised nobody thought of this sooner.