It is that time of the month again, time for the first of the month man blog. I have absolutely no idea how Miss Tina is able to find the ideas, much less the time to write as much as she does. Come to think of it; I have no idea how the hell women are able to do a lot of what they do with grace. Here it is on a Friday, and I very well should be writing about food. I can't help but think; I explained that the burger is my best. If you want something that isn't a burger, I'm not your guy. But all week long, Tina always thinks, trying different recipes or remembering old ones for Friday. I could suggest a different topping for the burger when it was my Foodie Friday. Then I realized I mentioned bacon and a fried egg. Again, I have nothing of value to add after that.
In general, men are minimalists. I genuinely only want to go to the Smithsonian to see Theodore Kaczynski's shack and take notes on the shack itself. I mean, for crying out loud, he was self-contained in a 10'X10' box in Montana and made it work. The plan of the shack in our place would start as 10' X 20' because, after all, there are two of us. Already, the size has doubled in the short-lived life of simplicity. The question is, where are we going to do laundry? Where does the dryer go? Are you planning an outhouse? This turns the hut with a ringer washer, clothesline, and outhouse into a quadruplet-sized cabin that now requires electricity, gas, and septic. Since we would then have electricity, we would have to decorate our cabin in the woods that three people would see throughout the year. Of course, we would have to plan some more room built in for storage for all of the decorations. Just like that, the hopes of a basic shack are gone.
I would not want to ever live with a man. There is only one-way pee gets on the toilet seat. I mean, every damn time I deny what I did and try to explain that it very well could have been one of the two females I live with; it's a miracle she doesn't throat-punch me. Significant parts of my body have been threatened with violence, and removal by sharp objects has been made for repeat offenses. I'm told that if I can't control "that thing," I need to sit down to pee. However, I stick to the original game plan that has worked since I was 5. Make the face like you have just been confused out of your gourd by the question. Daze off to the right like you are repeating the question in your head because it seems so far out of the reach of possibilities. Repeat exactly what she asked you, only in a more questioning tone. Did I pee on the toilet? Emphasis on I. Make the outraged; I can't believe you are asking me this face. Look her square in the forehead until she stomps off. Avoid her for the rest of the day. Casually bring up the possibility that it could have been her right before bed. Mutter, something about toilets in Australia flushing backward and go to sleep.
Flatulence. An entire research department should try to figure out the sexism in that. For God's sake, I could walk into a room full of my wife's friends with my arms spread out like an airplane, yelling, "Cropduster!" while cutting loose, for half the women in the room to laugh about it. Leading to all of them telling their husband how very cool I really am. At least, that is how it plays out in my head.
Meanwhile, if there ever existed a wife that squeaked one out in front of anyone, it would remain unspoken, like a terrible family secret. It is not just a typical "please don't let people find out we are related" kind of family secret. Farting in front of anyone for a woman is more of an "immediate family member was on Springer or the local news saying they saw a Bigfoot" kind of secret. The only time the squeaker would be referenced is if there was a divorce 20 years later. Even at that, it would not be mentioned directly, just ever so discreetly; I don't know how he stayed married to her. Meanwhile, a man could fart in the shower terrible enough to make his wife vomit, and the reference to it later on would be he always tried so hard to make her laugh. This may or may not have actually happened.
Childbirth. If the role was reversed and men had to endure that much pain, the world population would be cut in half within a generation. Looking back, I feel that my woman's senses were heightened when Jordan first came to us. Out of a dead sleep, Tina could hear an unusual burble. I could have slept through the smoke detector. I can lift more than my wife for a short amount of time. Give a woman a 20 lb. child to carry, and I am amazed by the strength and endurance women are built with. You get a baby adjusted for crying out loud, and they wiggle. I used to think my time to shine would be as the protective parent who could do 20 years on his head when the boys started showing up. I had the entire routine planned out, complete with knife sharpening and eyeballing. But then Miss Tina's newest superpower, eye daggers, came out of nowhere. Seriously, when it comes to our daughter and her safety and well-being, my wife is the truly scary one. Women are capable of switching gears from overly alert ninja cats to someone who could dismember a body and then eat a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
Competency and Independence. It always breaks my heart when an elderly couple is one day no longer a couple. They have lived their lives together, and now one of them is alone. It is not uncommon, and it is suitable for anyone alone not to be so if that brings them happiness. But the men always seem to be the most unable to be alone. I would love to be able to quote scripture here and reference the creation of Lilith and Eve because men were destined to have a mate. The fact of the matter is that men get stupid. The poor elderly gentleman had his wife dressing him for years and had to get his clothes picked out for her funeral. Within a week, he doesn't understand why he is missing socks or how to grocery shop. At the same time, women can roll with change. They can take over any duties that a man has assumed with grace. I wouldn't be afraid to bet they are in no hurry to replace the "Kansas State Champion Crop Duster" any time soon.
The differences between men and women should be researched extensively. However, it would never do for the patriarchal-driven society to admit that women are the stronger, more capable, and more intelligent of the two sexes. I mean, seriously, if women were in charge, "crop dusting" would be punishable by death or castration, and dribbling a little pee-pee on the toilet seat is cause to be drawn and quartered. Once the punishment was complete, the female henchperson would then sit down and eat a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, stink eye all other men in the room, and ask in a dangerously quiet voice, "Who wants to be next?" Yeah, women are scary and capable.
On a serious note, this time of the year can be a rough one for many folks. The burden of the holidays and family can be too much. I have been blessed with my herd of folks that always make me feel loved. If you aren't lucky enough to think that, I guarantee you have people. Whether you have found them yet or not, they are out there. We have all lost some mighty fine folks because they didn't know how very loved they were. Don't be the reason a grown-ass man in bibs is tearing up typing a blog. Get Help. The Suicide Prevention Hotline is 988. If you are worried about someone, give that person a call. The worst that could happen is you talk to a friend.
That's it from me for 2023. Thanks for making this year a good one. We appreciate you. Wash on, folks!