Man, What a Setup

Anxious not to miss a minute of the Super Bowl, Stephen Smiddy, 30, was keeping one eye on the clock as he and his fiancee, Rachel Peischler, toured homes for sale last weekend.

The first house they visited was a disappointment, but the second, a rambler in Damascus, seemed to have potential: It felt "warm and friendly" to Peischler. Even better, her sister lives right down the road.

But Smiddy lit right up when they entered the spacious, wood-paneled basement, and quickly staked his claim. This, he told Peischler, could be his own special space. There was plenty of room for his friends to gather to watch sports. Easy access to a flat back yard for a quick pickup game of football. A retro-looking 1960s-style bar lining one side of the room.

Man heaven.

Smiddy, a phys-ed teacher at a middle school, stepped behind the bar, spread his arms wide and addressed an imaginary roomful of his buddies.

"The bar is open," he said expansively, drawing peals of laughter from Peischler and their real estate agent, Ann McClure of McEnearney Associates' McLean office.

The conventional wisdom in the real estate business is that the woman makes the decisions about which house to buy and how to decorate it. Smiddy, however is part of what some say is a growing phenomenon. Men are becoming increasingly eager to claim part of their houses for their own use. They no longer want to be shunted out to a bleak workbench in an unheated garage, or limited to a single worn-out recliner in the rec room. Now architects, builders and interior designers are recognizing that men are looking for their own sphere in the house, a place to do what they most like to do.

"Man caves are coming out of the closet," said real estate author Mark Nash.

Nash last year collected opinions from more than 900 real estate agents about hot trends in the housing market. Among those pinpointed, he said: Men are looking for "personal dedicated space," where they can go and work on projects, entertain their friends, or "chill without being disturbed, and if so, only in an emergency."

Greg Jones, 42, of Crownsville, has decorated his once-unfinished basement entirely to his own taste. There's a pool table and a blackjack table. Neon signs advertise beer brands. Redskins memorabilia bedecks the walls. The bathroom has a door with a frosted window that reads "Mens Room."

When Jones watches sports events on one of his two TVs -- so he won't miss a minute of the action when games are played simultaneously -- he sits in an old-fashioned barber's chair. His wife, Dina, 39, a stay-at-home mother, usually joins him there only if they are hosting a party.

Greg, who owns a medical billing company, planned his haven secretly, unbeknown to Dina. She was drinking coffee in the kitchen one morning and heard hammering. When she got downstairs, she found workers hanging drywall and wiring the electrical system.