Don’t ask me about your clothes. Ask me about something I am qualified in. Ask me in which circumstances a clustered index is better than a non-clustered index in a SQL database. I have passed exams in that. I am paid to tell people exactly that. Or ask me about the merits of the new Masarati. It is true I have never seen one, let alone driven one, but I am a man. Men are genetically programmed to be an expert on such things. It is literally engendered into them. I am not qualified to hold an opinion on men’s clothing, let alone women’s. You might as well ask me my opinion on whether Brad Pitt is better looking that Orlando Bloom. It is not something I can ever understand. Don’t ask me about fashion. Ask me about something I am passionate about. Ask me if the referee in Saturday’s game knows who his parents are. Ask me about beer. I blanked my best friend for a week when he expressed the opinion that bitter is an old man’s drink. These are things that I hold strong opinions about. These are things in which I hold beliefs. I would not know if what you were wearing was the zenith or the nadir of fashion. I don’t care. This is not meant nastily. I am passionate about you. I am filled with passion over you. But not your clothes. I see past your clothes to see you, naked, marvelling that you still consent to allow me that view. When I think of you, I think of the laughs we have, the secrets we share, our life together. Turn me around and ask me what colour top you are wearing and I haven’t a clue. I care about you, not your clothes. For pity’s sake, don’t ask me about shoes. I cannot understand why you buy two pairs of shoes for every outfit you have. Every man I know has a maximum of three pairs of shoes. A pair of black shoes for work and funerals, a pair of trainers, and a pair of brown boots that he bought on a whim, wore three times but stopped when Bill down the pub said they looked gay. On what would I base an opinion on two identical-looking pair of shoes? I wouldn’t know a Gucci sandal from a Boots flip-flop. And why do you ask my opinion on what you are modelling? You stand in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, then ask me, “Does this look alright?” We both know that you don’t care for my opinion. If I say, “It looks wonderful” you will continue to look at your reflection, then decide to change anyway. So why ask me in the first place? But Heaven forfend that I do not express an opinion. If I express disinterest then I am an insensitive pig who doesn’t care for you at all. Better that you just don’t ask me. And please, please don’t trick me. Don’t wake me early on a Saturday morning, when I am befuddled by Friday’s drink, roused roughly and untimely from my slumbers, unfocused and blurred, unspectacled and sleepfilled eyes squinting against the light. Do not ask me, unprepared and blinded, what I think. How was I to know, eye’s screwed up, when I answered, “It’s fine, but it could do with an iron”? How was I to know that you, fresh from the bath, were standing there naked? |
Written by Novu (12 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | Hi Snodlander,
A realistic and identifiable male viewpoint on all the things that are different between men and women, what matters and what seemingly doesn't.
I loved the ending to this. Could really picture that final scene, probably as something from a comedy sketch.
It's very easy to read, and humorous too. A delight to read.
Thank you.
Novu |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | I too thought that this was great.
Not much chance that I will ever ask you any of those things, but I promise anyway. Just don't snort and look disgusted when you ask me what kind of car it was and I say 'Um -- kind of long and blue, I think' instead of 'Volkswagon Jetta, probably about 1985,' or something similarly knowledgeable. | Funny but true
Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3352 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | Very well done. I really liked that. I think you captured that male angst perfectly and with such humour,it really begs a response
cheers
J | Wonderful...
Written by Clifftown (620 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | | ...would work really well as a comedy script. Enjoyed. | Hahaha
Written by Fledermaus (3281 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | | I recognized this, but I can't fully relate to it. Somehow I always look at what women are wearing. I guess that's the result of having many female friends... |
Written by Thatllbemethen (83 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | Spot on, but expect open warfare.
I will of course defend you to the hilt once my back gets better and as soon as I've fixed the wardrobe, tidied the shed, moved the speakers, washed the car, assembled the swing-thing, swept the leaves, visited the tip, painted the ceiling, fixed the toilet, re-painted the ceiling, eaten two christmas dinners and got a job.
Provided of course the wife lets me.
Cheers
|
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | If you really did all that in one day, can I have your address and phone number, please? I'm a little old, but I have nice hair. And almost all my teeth are mine.
Today I: got two kids off to school with sandwiches, carrot sticks, etc., wrapped and packaged up dozens of gifts, baked a loaf of bread, washed dishes, tidied lounge, vacuumed staircase, hallway, and lounge, found cello-tape in daughter's room (don't laugh -- you haven't seen the room), raked leaves (ha!), cleaned up dead bird mess made by cat, made coconut meringues from 53 egg whites given to me by neighbor, cleaned up after myself, made dinner for four, and amused myself on the GW site. And today was a very light day for me.
I can paint ceilings, but I admit it: I cannot assemble swings. Or rather, I can, but you wouldn't want to sit in them. |
Written by Phil (6713 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | What about the ironing Witzl? Tut tut.
Loved this Snods - the ending particularly. It's absolutely impossible to say the right thing no matter how hard you try.
I got home from work last week knowing my wife had had the mobile hairdresser round. I was well prepared and remembered as I was driving home, but what a bollock I dropped!
'I like you hair,' said I.
'She didn't come,' came the reply.
Frosty relations ensued.
Phil. |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | Darn, you're right! I forgot about the ironing! In fact, I've forgotten it for the past three years. Better leave it now -- the ironing and I are both happier that way.
Your poor wife. My husband did this just the other day: paid me fawning compliments about my hair, and all I'd done was sleep on it. | Am I ...
Written by patterjack (1193 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | .. the only happily married codger around here?
For over half a century the better 9/8ths and i have squabbled , disagreed , sighed in exaggerated fashion at each other's shortcomings -- often shouted ranted and raged -- proved conclusively that one is as useful as the other is useless and vice versa -- shared domestic tasks ( though i think she carries more of that burden than I.)
Trouble is with all that -- it doesn't really provide comic material !
Any more and I would get sloppily boring !
patterjack
| hahaha
Written by TwistedTales (548 comments posted) 19th December 2006 | | Really funny. Very true, we poor souls are tortured by the devils called women. You captured it all pretty well...the male psyche...bingo..good job | HI Snodlander
Written by jean.day (2279 comments posted) 20th December 2006 | | I enjoyed reading this. Your wife is very lucky to have such a clever witty man who appreciates her in his own way. And when we ask men questions about how we look, we don't really expect an answer. | Hahahaha
Written by Snodlander (501 comments posted) 20th December 2006 | | Thanks Jean. I shall print your comment out and frame it, just to remind her how lucky she is. |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 20th December 2006 | We may not expect answers, but we'd like them just the same. The right answers, of course.
If you read Japanese girls' comics (which are awful, so I'm not recommending them), the greater percentage of the male heart throbs are portrayed as exaggeratedly effeminate, slender creatures with fine feelings and sensibilities. They always notice women's hair and clothes and fashion in general and pay attention to their mood changes. Now, I don't want a man like that. I'd runfrom a man like that. But the other extreme -- the belching, beer-clutching, TV lout who thinks he is King because he puts in an 8-hour day and who never notices anything but when dinner is served -- is just as unattractive.
I reckon all of this could have been balanced out if the Powers that Be had given women the physical strength. But they didn't put me in charge of the Universe, and what a pity. |
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