The Bermuda Triangle

The Bermuda Triangle
22 July 2012

So what’s the thing with men?  They are really truly strange.  Apart from the dangly bits that we don’t have, as well as the fact that they are obscenely hairy (and they say evolution doesn’t exist), they’re just simply odd.

I know this for a fact – I am married to a man.  I have shared more than half of my life with him.  Before I married him, I lived at home with my folks and had a father and a brother in residence and now I have two sons of my own. 

Firstly – they come with noises.  Not just the rude noises (and boy do they do those lots), but simply playing and story-telling noises.  I can always tell where my boys are.  Particularly my 8 year old.  It’s always shooting and gun noises – loads of grunting (and they say evolution doesn’t exist).  And then there’s the car noises.  He simply can’t do quiet.  When he’s out running around in the garden, playing with our dogs, he’s loud.  He’s loud in the bath and loud on the loo (grunting noises again).  He’s loud in the car and loud in his room.

Secondly – they’re solution orientated.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  This in itself is a marvellous and admirable quality.  However, only in certain instances.  Like when you can’t open a jar – give it to a man and he will flex his muscles – presto pronto jar is opened.  Or when you have a flat tyre – loads of boy noises, but they will get a new tyre on for you.  Or when the computer is not co-operating – fiddling and grunting, but they get it going.  Or when the power goes out and similar things like that.  They like to “fix” stuff.

The problem comes though, when they offer unsolicited solutions.  You know the type.  Like when you for instance say “Jeez, I had such a hectic day.  Driving up and down with the kids.  Cole had swimming and hockey and Amber had dancing and hockey and Luke had hockey and I had to go to the shops and the bank, and sort out supper.  And my Jumping Castle guys came in and we had a hole to fix so I needed to get glue.  And I had to help out at school and supervise one of the Grade 7 classes.  I had to get Luke a new 2^nd skin shirt for hockey, but first take the one that’s too small back to a different shop and get the cash back before I could do the swop.  And I had to get hair gel for Amber for her dancing show.  Be back at home at a certain time to let a Castle go out to a client for a rental, numerous phone calls, as well as the myriad other things that happen in a ‘normal’ day”.

And you know what my Grantie then says??? “That’s it!  Cole has to stop swimming.  It’s bloody ridiculous – it costs a fortune and he can swim already.  Amber needs to stop dancing – it’s a money making racket.  You should have sorted the 2^nd skin out already.  I told you Amber shouldn’t do dancing – then you wouldn’t need hair gel (money making racket, blah, blah, blah).  Why do you say yes to helping out at school?  You should always have the glue you need, etc. etc. etc.”.  All I actually want him to say is “Shame, baby.  Are you okay?  You do so much for us and we really appreciate it.  Can I run you a bath, make you some coffee or give you a hug”.  Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.  How easy is that to fix?  There isn’t even any grunting involved!

So basically, boys are intensely dense, as in really, really dof.  I’ve spoken to lots of my friends and this is a definite pattern with men.  Another friend of mine, Maryke, says that her husband, JC, claims that he has figured out the mystery surrounding the Bermuda Triangle.  He reckons it’s a worm hole to Mars, cause only men disappear and the whole “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” thing.  I think perhaps only the clever guys get sucked out and we’re left with the ones that Mars doesn’t want?  Hey, I’m not saying it’s true, but it certainly is a workable theory.

The flipside of the coin is that us women are not particularly solution orientated – we’re more emotion orientated.  So when my Grantie has a tough day and tells me about it, I give him a big hug, tell him how much I love him, make lots of sympathetic noises (no grunting – see, we’re different), make him some coffee – you know stuff like that.  In short, I give him the treatment that I would like, when instead I should tell him to “suck it up cupcake, pull your big boy panties up, get up earlier in the morning, don’t over extend yourself, plan your life better, etc.”  You get the picture.

But for some or other strange reason, the whole men-women thing simply works.  I couldn’t do life without my man and I suspect that he couldn’t do life without me.  So for now, I’m hanging on to him for dear life and will never, ever let him fly over the Bermuda Triangle.  Mars can go and find some other good man, cause I’m keeping mine, thank you very much.  Besides which, I really don’t know how to change a flat tyre, open a tight jar, sort out power problems or fix the computer.