It’s probably safe to say women are more obsessed with their personal bags than men are. Just look at the marketplace. Men have three to five styles of wallets that are all about $20; women have a gazillion variety of handbags, pocketbooks, satchels, and clutches that range from somewhat pricey to really expensive.

Now that I’ve made that clear, I’m going to obsessively praise my bag. A sleek black Trager laptop case that also has enough room for a weekend’s worth of summer clothes, it was a birthday present from my parents about three years ago. But it was getting old and gray. Literally gray. Also, the zipper split and the shoulder pad was shredded. It was time for Poppa to get a brand new bag.

I looked for bags that matched what I needed. A key clip. A side bottle holder. A roomy compartment without permanent dividers, and a separate zippered compartment for the laptop. Nothing’s more annoying than having to open up your whole bag at the airport to excavate your laptop. Well, except having to untie and tie your shoes again. It amazes me that I can fit everything I need to live for a weekend in a single bag, but require at least five plastic tubs just to get through the security checkpoint.

But this particular laptop case didn’t exist anymore, as far as I could tell by checking eBay, eBags.com, and every illegal vendor with a fold-up table in midtown Manhattan. So, inspired by MTV, I “pimped” my old bag. First, I cleaned out all the throat lozenges, obsolete train schedules, dirty pennies, tissues, business cards, unpaid bills, mint strips, flyers, and empty pens that had taken residence in there. In so doing I found a crucial Costco receipt, which means I can now return that variety pack of borscht which seemed like such a good idea at the time

In true big pimpin’ style, I cut off my ripped-up shoulder pad and ordered a big, bad mega-Velcro replacement from Manhattan Portage. Then, I brought the bag to a shoe repair place, where they tore out my tiny split zipper and replaced it with a bigger-teeth version that makes a satisfying deep-throated ZOOOOP instead of my little boy’s ziiiiip when I pull it. To top it all off, I attached to the zipper a funky glow-in-the-dark Power Rangers keychain, courtesy of my son… which I’ll tell him about the next chance I get, I swear!

I’m not ashamed to say I love my bag. But it’s not the only accessory I care about. Did I tell you my wallet has a neat divider to separate my cash from my supermarket coupons? And that my black leather-covered cell phone makes a crisp clicking sound when I twirl it on its clip? I keep my Video iPod in a Coach plush leather case that used to contain my old Palm Pilot. I also have a red metallic sunglass case that pops open at the touch of a button

Sometimes we have just as much fun with the things that hold, collect, clip, and protect our belongings as the belongings themselves, like a toddler who spends more time playing with the box a toy came in than the toy itself

Once, I ordered for my wife a gothic-looking jewelry box that had ornate medieval-like carvings and claw feet. Though I suspected she didn’t care for it, I loved it. Years later, she gave it to me. Now, of course, it’s filled with throat lozenges, dirty pennies, tissues, business cards, unpaid bills, mint strips, flyers, and empty pens.

Maybe we men are indeed as into our containers as women are. We just don’t wear it on our sleeve.