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Ladies, we men love you with all of our hearts (well, except for those portions that are reserved for NASCAR, smoked brisket, and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition), but there are times when we’d rather endure back-to-back episodes of Oprah or Sex and the City than listen to you nitpick about toilet seats and smelly socks. Want to know what else sets us off?
The Dishes: We don’t expect a Nobel Peace Prize when we do the dishes, but if we are in the midst of sudsy water and dishpan hands, please don’t stand over us and tell us we’re doing it all wrong. Don’t you know there’s no right or wrong way to do the dishes? You just put a dish in soapy water, swish it around a couple of times, then put it in the cupboard to dry. If you need the dishes to be done “the right way,” which really means “your” way, then grab the scrubber right out of our hands, tell us never to come near the kitchen sink again, and we’ll obey like good little husbands—I guarantee!
The House: When we come home from work, we’re tired and hungry, and we want to relax by watching an old Clint Eastwood movie that is jam-packed full of action, violence, and mayhem. What we don’t need is a list of all the things that need to be done to the house, around the house, beside the house, and under the house before people from the health department arrive to condemn the house. If the house isn’t falling into a sinkhole or being pulverized by a Sherman tank, then it can wait.
Cooking: Okay, so the only thing we know how to fix for dinner is spaghetti or cereal, but at least we fixed something, and you didn’t have to. Whining about the menu puts us one step closer to bringing out granny’s “mystery meat” stew recipe, prepared with armadillo, raccoon, possum, or anything else we happen to find nearly dead on the side of the road.
Yardwork: Please, please, please, don’t go outside, hop on the John Deere, and start mowing the yard. Yes, we should have done it yesterday, but when you do it, we can practically hear the neighbors whisper, “That poor woman. Her husband must be some kind of bum to make her get out there in the hot sun and mow like that!” Please, we’ll do any amount of dishes—we may even fold a couple of towels—just don’t go outside and mow.
(SIDE NOTE: My wife says I shouldn’t be embarrassed at her wanting to crank up the old John Deere and mow the yard. So, as long as my neighbors understand she wants to mow while I sleep on the couch, then I’ll never mention it again.)
Our Children: When our sons do something “bad,” don’t look at us and say, “Those are your sons,” because, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t it take two of us to tango?
Driving: How is it possible that you can give us compliments about our superb driving abilities then turn around and scream, “Do you see that light? I said, do you see it? It’s about to turn red, aren’t you going to stop? It’s yellow! What are you doing? It’s RED! STOP!” Yes, we see the light. Yes, we see it might be red while we’re in the intersection. Yes, we’re going to put on our Indiana Jones hat and try running it. What’s the problem?
Movies: You can’t seriously expect us to be happy about watching a chick flick, can you? We’ll go because we can be with you; we’ll share our popcorn because it lets us sit closer to you; we may even spring for your favorite box of candy—but to expect anything related to an emotional response from us about the movie is absolutely unrealistic. And those tears you see running down our cheeks are from pain. Extreme “I can’t believe I’m watching this movie” pain!
Gifts: When it comes to birthdays and Christmas, we don’t mind getting tools, fishing gear, Indy race cars, or Army surplus rocket launchers. What we don’t want is aftershave that reminds you of your grandfather. That’s just plain creepy!
Other than that, I have no other comments about what women should or should not do—mainly because my wife is staring at me with those eyes that say, “Mister, I think you’ve said enough.”
