Women are strange and wondrous creatures whose sole purpose seems to be to drive a man – any man – completely crazy. Before you hit the “send” button ladies, it doesn’t work in reverse because there’s nothing mysterious about men.
In the words of that great philosopher Jeff Foxworthy, “You want to know what men are thinking? Here’s what we’re thinking, ‘I’d like a beer and I’d like to see something naked.’”
That’s it! It doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to make us happy. But women aren’t happy unless they’re making us unhappy, because the fact it’s so easy to make us happy, makes them unhappy.
I’m not sure if I followed all of that, but I know it’s true.
So, women convince themselves that men actually have much deeper thoughts and, since we won’t tap into them, they’ll do it for us. And with absolutely no evidence to support this hypothesis, they naturally extrapolate it out to the illogical conclusion that they know what’s best for us.
Here’s what I’m talking about.
If my lovely wife says she’s going to the grocery store, I might ask her to pick up some olive loaf, but she’ll come home with sliced turkey breast instead. And her response to my inevitable quizzical look is, “Well, I thought you’d like this better.”
But when I respond, “If I liked turkey breast better, I would’ve asked you for turkey breast. But I didn’t ask for turkey breast, I asked for olive loaf,” she gets mad at me for failing to understand that I should’ve asked for turkey breast in the first place.
It’s the same thing with clothes! She loves buying stuff for me, but being abundantly clear about what I will and won’t wear makes no difference. That conversation always goes something like this:
“I bought you some shorts! Please try them on,” as she hands them to me.
“Thank you dear,” as I grab them and suddenly stop. “You know I don’t like overly long shorts with lots of pockets?”
“Yes, I know, but I thought you’d like these.”
“But they’re below the knee and they have a lot of pockets.”
“That’s the style now.”
“But I don’t wear that style.”
“Fine! I’ll take them back!”
So now, despite the fact that I didn’t ask her to buy me shorts, and I’ve been very clear about the kind of shorts I like, I’m in trouble for not liking the shorts I never liked to begin with.
Now my wife is doing it to our two sons!
As a runner, I don’t eat much crap. It basically comes down to potato chips to stave off those annoying post-run foot cramps, and chocolate chip cookies, because no one’s perfect. And the best mass produced chocolate chip cookies right now are Meijer’s Chunky Chipsters.
In what can only be described as a happy coincidence, Chipsters also happen to be the least expensive. But every time we find ourselves in the cookie aisle, my wife starts poring over all of the possibilities. That conversation always goes something like this:
“Dearest, why are you going through all of the chocolate chip cookies? You know what we like.”
“I know you like those, but I thought the boys would like something different.”
“Why would you think the boys would like something different? They like Chipsters. If you buy anything else, they’ll eat all the Chipsters and leave the rest for me.”
“Well, I’m getting them something different.”
It’s at this point I realize that, saying anything other than “Yes dear” means celibacy is gonna be the only other option.
So today, I dutifully headed over to the cupboard only to find four packages of Keebler chocolate chip cookies with double fudge unicorn rainbows and all sorts of stuff no one really needs. That conversation went something like this:
“Dearest, the boys ate all the Chipsters and all that’s left is chocolate chip cookies I don’t really like.”
“Well…I thought they’d eat the other ones.”
“Why would you think they’d eat the other ones. I told you they like Chipsters?
“Fine! We’ll get Chipsters from now on,” while she stares at me as if she’s just been mortally wounded.
So ladies, stop it!
If we say we want olive loaf, we want olive loaf. I know what kind of shorts I like and give me Chunky Chipsters or give me death. I understand the fact that men are entirely uncomplicated bothers you, but you have to understand that isn’t our problem – until and unless you insist upon making it our problem.
I think I’ll have a beer!