Disclaimer: The following post is written with the utmost affection for the male of our species.
I'm married to a man.
Now, this might seem like an obvious statement to some of you, but I feel the need to point that out before I continue. Now you see, being the post structuralist post post modernist blah blah blah (see how I help you tune out the boring bits?) that I am, I know that the term "man" is a relative one. What I mean is, there are of course certain qualifiers to be labeled a man (obviously, I don't need to go into that one), but there are many varying degrees of manliness. For my sake, and because I am a detail oriented dork who loves lists and charts, I will say that these degrees shall range from one to ten. One being an eyebrow plucking, Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses wearing, Clinique exfoliating scrub using excellent dresser, and ten being my dear husband, Andy. Please understand that this scale is for measuring straight men only. Allow me to explain.
A former coworker of mine (yes, a man) asked me to jump up on top of a recycling bin once to help him hang a banner. He "didn't want to get plaster in his hair because it was spiky and gelled, and since I didn't have gel in my hair, it would be much easier for me to brush the plaster dust out." I was wearing heels people, HEELS and he still somehow rationalized it to himself that I would be the better banner hanger. I ran into him the other day, and I'm sure he would have looked surprised to see me, if he had any eyebrows left after the hourly plucking, that is. Man scale 1.3.
So, on to the other end of the scale. My beloved husband, Andy. He knows I'm writing about him today, so all of this is okay, I assure you. Andy is a card carrying member of the Brotherhood (AKA The He-Man Woman Hater's Club). I'm not supposed to know it exists, in fact, no woman is. Since I know very few people read my blog, I think I am safe to talk about it freely. Mind you, if the Brotherhood's sources were anywhere as good as mine, Andy would have been expelled years ago. He's far too intelligent, sensitive, caring, thoughtful, etc. And yet....and yet, there are certain carry overs from the HMWHC that cannot be cast off. In Andy, the primary of these is what I like to call the Man's Rule of Double Bad. Permit me to give you an example.
I come home from belly dancing last night (I do that, by the way) and plop onto the couch next to my love. He's eating a bowl of frosted flakes with gusto. He looks over at me and smiles. I smile back affectionately and giggle ( I do that too). "You have milk in your goatee" I point out.
Now, I've always wanted to be on one of those TV shows where I can pause time, so imagine if you will that I have paused the above scene so we can analyze what happens in Andy's brain. Pay careful attention now, because the following thought process is rather complex.
Here is what I believe it looks like (obviously, I am not a man, so I wouldn't know). *Inside Andy's brain* "Dude! She just said you have milk on your goatee. She wants you to wipe it off because it's annoying her. What? Does she expect you to be perfect when you eat? Never drop a crumb? Next she'll notice that you dripped some milk on your shirt. Then she'll notice that she doesn't like that shirt on you. She'll start yammering on about how that color is bad for your skin tone. She'll take you to the GAP and make you pick out a new shirt. And then she'll start trying on jeans and make you wait outside the fitting room. She'll ask your opinion. You'll say the wrong thing. Then she'll feel fat and depressed. Forget it man. You have to shut her down. You're a man! You can't be told what to do. Show her! Show her now!" *Time unfreezes*
Andy shoves his face into the bowl of frosted flakes until his entire chin is submerged and milk is running in rivulets down his neck. "Is that better?" he asks, triumphantly. (Man scale 10.5) Cyndi shakes her head.
"Wow" he muses, "that's really cold and unpleasant, having milk running down your neck and into your shirt."
"Huh" Cyndi says, "who'd have thought."
So that's the man's rule of double bad. If your woman points out anything, or says anything that remotely resembles criticism, then you must immediately do or say something double bad in order to reset her completely unrealistic expectations of your behavior. I'm onto you men. And soon, very soon, the other ladies will be too. Bwahahahaha!
Cyndi
PS. I have worked out for seven days in a row. Whoot!
I'm married to a man.
Now, this might seem like an obvious statement to some of you, but I feel the need to point that out before I continue. Now you see, being the post structuralist post post modernist blah blah blah (see how I help you tune out the boring bits?) that I am, I know that the term "man" is a relative one. What I mean is, there are of course certain qualifiers to be labeled a man (obviously, I don't need to go into that one), but there are many varying degrees of manliness. For my sake, and because I am a detail oriented dork who loves lists and charts, I will say that these degrees shall range from one to ten. One being an eyebrow plucking, Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses wearing, Clinique exfoliating scrub using excellent dresser, and ten being my dear husband, Andy. Please understand that this scale is for measuring straight men only. Allow me to explain.
A former coworker of mine (yes, a man) asked me to jump up on top of a recycling bin once to help him hang a banner. He "didn't want to get plaster in his hair because it was spiky and gelled, and since I didn't have gel in my hair, it would be much easier for me to brush the plaster dust out." I was wearing heels people, HEELS and he still somehow rationalized it to himself that I would be the better banner hanger. I ran into him the other day, and I'm sure he would have looked surprised to see me, if he had any eyebrows left after the hourly plucking, that is. Man scale 1.3.
So, on to the other end of the scale. My beloved husband, Andy. He knows I'm writing about him today, so all of this is okay, I assure you. Andy is a card carrying member of the Brotherhood (AKA The He-Man Woman Hater's Club). I'm not supposed to know it exists, in fact, no woman is. Since I know very few people read my blog, I think I am safe to talk about it freely. Mind you, if the Brotherhood's sources were anywhere as good as mine, Andy would have been expelled years ago. He's far too intelligent, sensitive, caring, thoughtful, etc. And yet....and yet, there are certain carry overs from the HMWHC that cannot be cast off. In Andy, the primary of these is what I like to call the Man's Rule of Double Bad. Permit me to give you an example.
I come home from belly dancing last night (I do that, by the way) and plop onto the couch next to my love. He's eating a bowl of frosted flakes with gusto. He looks over at me and smiles. I smile back affectionately and giggle ( I do that too). "You have milk in your goatee" I point out.
Now, I've always wanted to be on one of those TV shows where I can pause time, so imagine if you will that I have paused the above scene so we can analyze what happens in Andy's brain. Pay careful attention now, because the following thought process is rather complex.
Here is what I believe it looks like (obviously, I am not a man, so I wouldn't know). *Inside Andy's brain* "Dude! She just said you have milk on your goatee. She wants you to wipe it off because it's annoying her. What? Does she expect you to be perfect when you eat? Never drop a crumb? Next she'll notice that you dripped some milk on your shirt. Then she'll notice that she doesn't like that shirt on you. She'll start yammering on about how that color is bad for your skin tone. She'll take you to the GAP and make you pick out a new shirt. And then she'll start trying on jeans and make you wait outside the fitting room. She'll ask your opinion. You'll say the wrong thing. Then she'll feel fat and depressed. Forget it man. You have to shut her down. You're a man! You can't be told what to do. Show her! Show her now!" *Time unfreezes*
Andy shoves his face into the bowl of frosted flakes until his entire chin is submerged and milk is running in rivulets down his neck. "Is that better?" he asks, triumphantly. (Man scale 10.5) Cyndi shakes her head.
"Wow" he muses, "that's really cold and unpleasant, having milk running down your neck and into your shirt."
"Huh" Cyndi says, "who'd have thought."
So that's the man's rule of double bad. If your woman points out anything, or says anything that remotely resembles criticism, then you must immediately do or say something double bad in order to reset her completely unrealistic expectations of your behavior. I'm onto you men. And soon, very soon, the other ladies will be too. Bwahahahaha!
Cyndi
PS. I have worked out for seven days in a row. Whoot!
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4 comments:
Love your blog Cyndi! I think you are dead on with the HMWHC! This explains so much! :)
Thanks Shiloh! I've had theories for a long while, but it all came together with the discovery of the HMWHC!
I think we all know where Chris falls... It's nowhere near a 10. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm closer to that end of the scale than he is. And yet, I love it. Is something wrong with me?
I don't think there's a thing wrong with it at all. In fact, I'd say that both sides of the scale have their allure. My previous experience as you well know has given me an in depth view of the 1-5 side of the scale. I was just enjoying musing about the differences of the chaps that hover more closely in the 8-10 range.
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