Marital Bliss
After 53 years of matrimony, I’m now more convinced than ever that I know absolutely nothing about women. Let me explain why.
One morning last weekend, I walked into the kitchen where Maureen was working and gave her a big hug and a kiss. She batted her eyelashes and smiled so happily that I was convinced I had earned some valuable brownie points. Alas, I had completely misread the situation, as usual. With an evil snicker she produced from behind her back… a toilet bowl brush! The “Sergeant Major” assigned me to latrine duty! Dang. Properly chastened, I retreated to the master bathroom, where I sought out my friend John, hoping that he would take pity on me. Needless to say, there was no compassion forthcoming from that cold, heartless lump. I performed my custodial duties in silence and solitude.
Now, believe me when I tell you that I’ve never quite understood how married women can often be so indifferent to their long-suffering husbands. Last week I said to Maureen, “I’ve gotta go to the VA tomorrow.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “What’s wrong with you this time?”
“Oh, nothing much. My left leg fell off and I have to get it reattached. I thought maybe you’d like to take a ride and keep me company.”
“Very funny,” she said with a scowl. “Do I have to?”
Now I had her. “Well, there’s a casino right across the road. We could stop there after my appointment,” I smirked proudly.
“OK,” she responded. “I’ll go.”
AHA! I knew it! My male superiority had finally triumphed! Who did she think she was dealing with, a child?
“But you’ll have to give me money to gamble.”
Egad! Disaster! Why in the world do I keep shooting myself in the foot like that? How does a mere female consistently outmaneuver me, a dues-paying member of the dominant sex?
In addition to being caring and very shrewd, my wife is also highly complimentary. The other morning we were going out to breakfast. As we got in the car she said casually, “Your deodorant smells like bug spray.” Well excuuuuuuuse me! At least there wouldn’t be any flies circling my armpits as I dipped into the oatmeal.
While we ate she told me that I needed to get some new underwear. Isn’t that what all married couples talk about when they go out to eat? “What?” I whined. “But I just bought some two years ago.”
“They’re ‘golf’ shorts,” she sneered. “They’ve got 18 holes in them. And while we’re on the subject, you better replace your ‘baseball socks’ too. They’ve got 12 runs in them. Let’s go to Penney’s. I can buy some things, too, while we’re there.”
Nice. And guess who was expected to pick up that tab? What chance do I have against a steel-trap mind like that? And where the heck was I going to put the new stuff, considering that the only drawer in the bedroom not crammed with her things is a tiny one in the night stand? (I was tempted to write, in the “drawers drawer,” but you know how I hate inane puns!) Anyway, she said, “You’ll manage,” now obviously sympathetic to my plight. “There’s the desk in your office.” Oh. Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?
But after pouting, uh… racking my brain for several hours, I finally figured out how to get the best of her. She’s been after me to exercise more, so I started going to the gym three days a week. I don’t actually work out, mind you. I just hang around for a couple of hours and watch the women jiggle! Heh-heh. At long last I’ve gotten the upper hand over those blasted females! Er, what? I have to use a machine or leave? Hey, you can’t give me the bum’s rush! You don’t know who you’re dealing with! What the………….
Shadows: Family Stories 