It could be in the bath, on a couch in front of the TV, or on a tree stump staring out to sea, where higher thoughts could be conceived and processed to help man become worthy and smart. And uninterfered with.
But recently I have seen two friends' man caves, and I have become insanely jealous. So much so I resolved last week to turn my room at the end of the hall, hitherto something between an office and a mess of stuff not allowed anywhere else in the house, into my very own man cave, better than anything any friend could ever muster.
This was ambitious talk, for both these caves had magnificent aspects which I could not reproduce without destroying the back half of the house and then rebuilding it 20m high. The one belonging to Chris was like an ensuite at the end of the bedroom, you could wake up in the night with something on your mind that only music or film could assuage, and you could just wander straight to the cave at the foot of the bed. Perfect. Chris also had a fully operational Fountain amplifier. The one belonging to Phil, apart from having not one but two keyboards and womb-like leather chairs, looked gloriously across a bay.
If I built 20m up, mine would be able to sight Otago Harbour, and if I wiped out the children's guest room, I would have a sumptuous ensuite. But neither of these were ever going to happen. I had to get smart with the space I had.
Naturally, I bought another bookcase. I always buy another bookcase. And using the wood from one of the bookcases I bought but couldn't assemble (Dazed & Confused, 11.10.11), I built a thinner DVD case.
The big old gnarled and possibly restorable black desk was replaced by a genuine computer desk where every inch was sensibly employed, and a chest of drawers was wedged into the final space to accommodate the enormous amount of valuable paper documents that make my life whirr like a finely engineered Swiss watch. I sold my old filing cabinet on TradeMe for $15.55. So I pretty much ran the whole project at a profit.
Key works of literature - Viz comics, Marvel comics, Roy Of The Rovers comics - were brought up from the basement to make visitors think I was even more intelligent than the wealth of books already there suggested, and a flat-screen colour TV replaced the old 14in black-and-white tube thing that barely worked.
A wotchamacallit which beams Sky in from our son's bedroom beamed Sky in from our son's bedroom, and the toilet phone from my birthday (Dazed & Confused, 3.7.12) was placed discreetly beside one of the speakers.
An almost worthless but functioning mini-stereo completed the media package, and a whirling 360deg office chair with Chinese vinyl seat sat imperiously in front of a cupboard packed with ageing videos and bottles of All Black shampoo (Dazed & Confused, 1.11.11).
There were no musical keyboards, but there was an autoharp (Dazed & Confused, 7.2.12) on top of the chest of drawers to show I have music inside me, and the Hayley Mills photo (Dazed & Confused, 29.5.12) beckoned me like a Kardashian from the wall above the autoharp.
The only view is of the bluestone wall behind our house, but I have no time for views in this teeming enclave of treasure and pleasure. I am assailed at all times by 10 options - what man could ever want more?
I foolishly boasted of my new refuge over lunch with a bevy of tertiary-educated women. Do women have man caves, I asked them impishly. Well yes, said one, we call it a house. Hilarious. She's not coming in my man cave, I'll tell you that right now. I am deliriously happy. All I am missing is a portaloo. I suspect I'll get one for Christmas.
- Roy Colbert is a Dunedin writer.
