Thursday, July 29, 2010
We do. This is a fact.
Let us observe a moment of silence as this realization sinks in.
…………………you okay? Good.
I know there are a lot of men out there that prefer to live in the fantasy land where women are soft and squishy creatures that smell sweet as rose water and frolic about, completely oblivious to any call of nature (if you get my drift.) But I am here to say…I may be soft and squishy in all the right places…but honey, it ain’t all roses. Not ALL the time anyway.
Now with that being said, I think there is a distinct difference in the manner in which men and women answer the call.
Men have no shame or embarrassment in this arena. They are happy to trumpet away without regard to location, present company or the potential lethality of their flatulence. Now, there may be a modest few who blame the surprise toot on the ’chirping spider’ that has magically taken residence in the house but I have found that more often that not, men not only take pride when they let a good one rip…but they take great humor in it as well.
Ladies….Dutch Oven. Need I say more?
Women on the other hand, are more what I would call opportunistic tooters. Common decency usually prohibits us from partaking in the happy-go-lucky release the men so enjoy. Though there is the exception of the occasional escape toot…but even then we generally have the decency to blame it on a squeaky floor or noisy chair.
In our quest to be discrete…women have mastered the art of the silent toot. And if it backfires on us (no pun intended), and threatens to rat us out…we are resourceful enough to initiate ‘Operation Crop Dusting’ in hopes that the distribution will weaken the evidence and work in our favor.
Antics aside, I suppose in the end it boils down to this…perhaps the truth is that we really don’t want you to know we toot anymore than YOU want to know we do it. So for now let‘s just agree that it’s time to head back and smell the roses…
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Why? Because he’s a guy.
Well no shit Sherlock. Like there aren’t thousands of books out there waiting to inundate my brain with lectures on his Mars and my Venus.
I’m a hip girl.
I paid attention in class when they warned us that if our boyfriends had the emotional range of a teaspoon…it was perfectly normal. And I never questioned it…because boys are boys and that’s just how they are.
Fortunately for me however…I didn’t marry a boy, I married a man. Given a little time on the vine to ripen and mature…a man’s emotional range can extend beyond the measure of household kitchen utensils. Though that is not to say that he thinks like me anymore now than he did before but the difference is that now he at least TRIES to understand and relate.
And following suit, I try to be understanding of where he’s coming from…which in our household tends to be a much less emotional place. Jess is of the “It is what it is…so just let it go and move on” school of thought. Whereas as I take things to heart and have a hard time moving forward without some sort of resolution.
We lovingly refer to these differences in our personalities as the duck and the sponge. He has the enviable waterproof duck feathers that allow everything to roll right off of him, while I soak everything up like a little sponge. Understandably, the combination of the two can sometimes be a recipe for frustration or hurt feelings but as we are learning…marriage is about work , love and forgiveness.
And it’s also about trying to meet in the middle.
So for now Jess is floating along, valiantly hoping for a little water retention…while I bask in the warm sun, trying to dry up.
Now that’s love.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
This is blog is still a work in progress so don't freak if it looks cruddy. I am slowly tweaking it and making changes and as promised...I should be doing some actual writing soon. :o) Assuming married life is as interesting as single life. *wink-wink*