Knots tease us with promises, promises that—much like the correlative mystery that is the human vagina—given enough patience, finger dexterity, and perhaps a bit of saliva, they can be mastered. That is the purpose of a knot, after all: to be tied and then dare to be untied. This tease, like so many manly things, is what keeps us going (not asking for directions, for example, is just us honoring the landscape’s tease). We know a secret exists somewhere in those mysterious twists of fibers/folds of skin, and no amount of exasperated “just let me do it myself”s nor any volume of faked orgasms will deter us. Oh, tiny bundle of twine/rope/nerve-endings, I will figure you out eventually.
In this short essay Caleb J. Ross, author of numerous books and short stories, takes you back to the origins of his necktie hate by way of an uncomfortable business trip, along the way learning about knots, vaginas, and why he will never be a "proper" man.
