In western society, anyway.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/what-is-it-like-to-be-a-man?utm_source=pocket-newtab

At the time my wife and I were beginning to date, I owned a broken bed. The box spring had a biggish crack on one side, which caused you to feel like you were being gradually swallowed in the night—an effect seriously exacerbated by the presence of a second person. I had not bothered to buy pillows when I moved to Milwaukee, reasoning that old pants stuffed in a pillowcase could not possibly feel that different. I did, however, have a desk, which I had carried from the Salvation Army, a mile and a half, on my shoulders, in August. I should mention here that I have never been what anyone would consider macho. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that I was allowed to live any other way.

My wife now amuses guests by narrating this period in our lives in the sitcom gender-essentialist mode: the silly, uncivilized man; the patiently exasperated woman.1 I defend myself by citing my actual poverty at the time—I was a graduate student with no savings, from a working-class family, for whom a $12,000 yearly stipend was a massive windfall. But she and I are both right: My choices rested on many years of socialization, as much as they unfolded against a background of economic precarity. Were there not buses? Could I not have asked a friend with a car to help me? Who purchases a Riverside Chaucer and a copy of the Go-Betweens’ 16 Lovers Lane before he gets around to pillows? I would never have put myself through all of that if I hadn’t spent my life believing that it was my job to be, precisely, a man.

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As one who's lived and is still living a burnesha-esque (Sans the eternal virginhood, though it wasn't necessary since I got fixed at 19, yet have been celibate for over a decade with a defunct sex drive that I am glad is gone.), I am personally glad I was not obligated to be as is expected of your typical sausage casing.

Both genders have assets and liabilities that probably even out. And I think I've avoided the worst liabilities of what my drivers licence says I am by not playing the stupid games of the misprogrammed majority, going straight for personal pragmatism, and doing what I want to do, as opposed to what society expects me to do. . .or not do. Such is the life of a nose.

So neener-neener, BBBBBBLLLLLPPPPPHHHHHTTTTT, and I lick my plate at a restaurant to you! (Yes, I really do that. And if I still drank those toxic carbonated beverages, I'd challenge my dinner mate to burping contests, too.)