Matthew Keenan

Apparently I’m different from most 53-year-old men. I have absolutely no worries about my testosterone level. Or that it’s dropping like a stone.

Call me strange, but in my mind, anything that contributes to men acting half their age can’t be good. Just ask former coach Bobby Petrino. Within a span of three days, he wrecked his motorcycle, lost his job, ruined his reputation, trashed his marriage, scraped his face, got a neck brace and had his text messages exposed to the world. The newspapers reported that he had texted his 25-year-old “lady friend” 84 times in a five-hour period.

But his testosterone levels? Ridiculous.

Wow. Sign me up.

Is my body ripped? No. Is my underwear? Absolutely. Do I have hair follicles appearing on my shoulder? So I’ve been told. Do I sometimes wake up on the couch alone with the TV blaring in the middle of the night? Maybe. Do I wear stretch pants to Wal-Mart to buy Fiber-con? Just once. Does my body itch at the dinner table? No comment. But do I love my wife/life/dog? Heck yes.

I’m sorry, but my abs don’t register on my give-a-darn list. I don’t walk around shirtless in the Plaza or hang out at Lifetime Fitness giggling with petite soccer moms. I’m happily married to the same women for 24 years and have zero interest driving a Corvette, sporting a bomber jacket, using Just for Men, applying hair gel that gives me a spiky look, or slamming down shots at Nick & Jakes or Sullivans. I’ve never tasted Red Bull.

Some product pitch-man called it ‘male menopause.’ Ladies — that guy is a fool. He’s either divorced or soon will be and living in a trailer home with a window unit because no man would dare make that comparison.

Men don’t need a fan blowing all night or sweat in the middle of January. Men don’t have a billion blogs for their midlife medical conditions or have a thousand Oprah episodes dedicated to it. Woman’s menopause is a living hell. Period. End of statement. What other brilliant pronouncements does this guy have up his sleeve? Labor is overrated?

Now back to me.

Guys who apply hormonal creams or gulp natural remedies do other weird things. They talk ‘cool’ and say things like ‘dude’, wear hip bracelets, Affliction T-shirts and imported sandals that expose bad toes. They wind surf, ride mountain bikes, go to Poison concerts, read Men’s Health and stare at ‘how to’ columns like “Stay fit, young and vital,” “Have frequent sex and run in marathons.” Really?

One ad I hear on the radio is called ‘Ageless male.’ It promises to “be the man you used to be.” “You used to be energetic… happy… and wow, did the ladies love you.” Pitch man — I have a news flash. The man I used to be had four kids under 6, changed a billion diapers, got three hours of sleep and worked 18 hours a day. I’ve seen those pictures. Invariably I was carrying one, maybe two kids, was wearing sweats and Chuck Taylors. Now? Well, the wardrobe hasn’t changed much but my life has. Empty bedrooms and more time with Lori, Bernie and my golf clubs.

Fear of aging? Bring it.

Matt Keenan’s book, “Call Me Dad, Not Dude. The Sequel,” is available at thekansascitystore.com. To reach him, send email to mattkeenan51@gmail.com