The Truth About Men

[IrishAngel]

The Truth About Men
And why they don't require an instruction manual
by Liz Curtis Higgs

After 13 happy years of marriage, I'm here to report that men are embarrassingly easy to understand.

That's a blessing, considering when you hit 30, you're trying to figure out who you are. When you reach 40, you spend your days mind-melding with a teenager; at 50, you begin to wonder whatever happened to the aging parent you thought you knew.

 
 MEN HAVE A NO SURVIVORS APPROACH TO FOOD. IF IT'S THERE, IT'S TO BE EATEN.  
 
Realizing women could handle only so many unanswered questions, God graciously gave us fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, and/or beaus who don't require a basic instruction manual. In fact, men will tell you exactly what they think—if you just ask them. Amazing!

So, after long observing my handsome hubby, Bill, I've at last discovered The Truth About Men.

Men Prefer Simple Meals

Bill came home from the grocery store with a sack filled entirely with small styrofoam boxes.

I peered in the bag. "What are those?"

"Lunch." He pulled one out and held it up proudly.

Sure enough, that was the name on the label: "Instant Lunch." Some were with shrimp. Others were with chicken. Each one, he soon discovered, came with heartburn. Did he expect it to be edible? No, he expected it to be easy. Fill the cup with boiling water (a male specialty) and stand back for three minutes. Find spoon. Eat.

A woman would never dream of consuming such a thing for lunch. Because it's not real food? No, because it's 290 calories for 14 ounces.

Men Never Waste Food

When Bill and I married and merged our households, I discovered he didn't own a single storage container, Tupperware® or otherwise.

"What did you use to store leftovers, honey?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Leftovers?"

Men have a no-survivors approach to food. If it's there, it's to be eaten. Driving home from an exhausting trip east, we gulped down our fast-food meals in the car. Hours later, as midnight approached, Bill suddenly popped some thing in his mouth.

I asked a legitimate question. "What was that?"

"A french fry. I thought it fell on the floor, but hey, it was right here in my lap."

Lovely.

Then he started chewing. Even in the darkened car, I could sense there was a problem.

"Uh … I don't think this is a french fry," he mumbled. "Do you have a napkin?"

I did have a napkin, which neatly disposed of the hunk of plastic wrap from his new CD which, to be honest, didn't look, feel, or smell anything like french fries. Ever.

Men Are Afraid of Cellular Phones

It was Bill's idea to get a cell phone in the first place. For my safety and his peace of mind, he insisted.

"We get only 30 free minutes a month with this thing," he warned. "No idle chit-chat."

That's like telling me, "Here's a fresh chocolate cake," then not giving me a fork. Cruel and unusual punishment.

The first time I called him on the cell phone, I found out he meant zero chit-chat.

"Hey, sweetie!" I sang out after I punched in the numbers on my new toy."I'm heading home."

"Good. See you soon." Click.

I soon learned I had to plan my conversation in advance so I could squeeze everything in my allotted 15 seconds per call.

If I went 30 seconds, I could hear Bill sweating. If I chatted for a full minute, he started gasping for air as horrifying visions of $100 cellular phone bills spun through his mind.

When the first statement came, Bill opened it with trembling hands, obviously expecting the worst. But of the 30 minutes per month he'd paid for, we'd used exactly 4.

Men Consider Dumpster Diving an Olympic Sport

Some men build muscles with a home gym, while others—such as my Bill—develop buns of steel while carrying home other people's castoffs on trash pickupday.

Bill's theory is, why pay for something at a yard sale when you can claim the stuff people leave on the curb for free? Discarded computer equipment, outdated stereo rejects, black-and-white tv sets with tubes—these sorry has-beens disappear into the black hole of his van, to be spirited off to the garage when I'm not home.

Bill would never do such a thing when I'm with him, you understand. He knows the minute he got out of the vehicle, I would drive away, disavowing any knowledge of his tightwad self. Proof positive that men and women are—forgive the pun—wired differently. Women think, People threw those items out for a reason: They're broken. Men think, People threw them out for me to fix.

My only recourse was to institute a 2-year rule: If Bill hasn't repaired an absconded item within 24 months, out to the curb it goes. Within hours,the thing vanishes, meaning another man is now building his biceps lugging off our useless treasures. Like a forlorn Christmas fruitcake, this tasteless trash moves from house to house, untouched but appreciated. By the men, anyway.

Men Question the "Neatness Counts" Rule

Before we were married, Bill's friends warned him, "Liz is a neatnik, "which explains why, when he invited me over to his apartment for the first time, he announced with pride, "I found the floor!"

"Oh my," I murmured. "I didn't know you could lose such a thing." Silly me. Men can lose sight of any flat surface within hours. Library books, junk mail, tools—if it doesn't roll off or melt, it inevitably covers every level area of our home.

Good news: no wood to dust.

Bad news: nowhere to put my stuff.

Men Have Very Basic Wardrobe Needs

If I let him get away with it, Bill would wear the identical pair of pants and his favorite red golf shirt every day of his life. Yes, they'd get washed, of course, but only at night while he's sleeping, so they're ready to wear the next morning.

This requires that I shop on his behalf, then hide his new clothes in unexpected places, like the closet, for rotation purposes. When it's time to throw something out, I've learned tossing it in the wastebasket brings my grown man close to tears. Instead, I simply pack the done-for duds in my suitcase when I leave town on business, then quietly deposit them in an airport trash receptacle.

I know I'm not alone in this. I've seen women slip torn sweats, defunct sneakers, even ragged unmentionables, into trash cans at O'Hare International. We do what we have to do, girls.

Bless their grooming-impaired hearts. What can one expect from guys who do their nails with a Swiss army knife?

Men Secretly Long for Commitment

Everyone knows that a married man lives longer than a single one does (it's been proven clinically, or at least by Ann Landers), but married men are more willing to die. That's why they need us—their mother, daughter, wife, or girlfriend—to give them a reason for pressing toward the upwardcall.

After years of wedded bliss with my Bill, I've learned the hidden truth of his fidelity to me: I'm the only woman who loves him enough not only to match his socks, but knot them together; who cares so deeply for his social comfort that I lay out his Sunday clothes at the end of the bed like a little flat person; and who finds his occasional odd sounds and snorts almost cute. Almost.

The truth about men is they're funny, which is reason enough to keep one handy and happy for a while. Yea, for a lifetime, beloved.

[Willowbirch]

  Where do you get this stuff, anyway?

[Shylynne]

The truth about men is they're funny, which is reason enough to keep one handy and happy for a while. Yea, for a lifetime, beloved.


21 years `n he`s still handy  

[sincereheart]

I'm here to report that men are embarrassingly easy to understand.

I'm here to second that!  

[Shylynne]

ROFL!

[Allinall]

So what's wrong with Bill?  He seems perfectly normal to me!  I'd wear the same thing each day if my wife didn't make me change clothes with statements like "Oh dear, you look so much thinner in this!"  Which reminds me...is that an insult or a compliment?  

[Shylynne]

So what's wrong with Bill?

[Willowbirch]

"Oh dear, you look so much thinner in this!"  Which reminds me...is that an insult or a compliment?  

Oh, I'm sure its a compliment. Even if its disguised as an insult, there's probably a compliment deep down inside.  

[sincereheart]

"Oh dear, you look so much thinner in this!"  Which reminds me...is that an insult or a compliment?  

Oh, I'm sure its a compliment. Even if its disguised as an insult, there's probably a compliment deep down inside.  

Probably.... Deep down..... REALLY deep.....

[Allinall]

"Oh dear, you look so much thinner in this!"  Which reminds me...is that an insult or a compliment?  

Oh, I'm sure its a compliment. Even if its disguised as an insult, there's probably a compliment deep down inside.  

Probably.... Deep down..... REALLY deep.....

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!  Anywho...is that a fat-joke?  

[sincereheart]

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!

Congratulations!  

Anywho...is that a fat-joke?

No, it's a 'men are too slow to pick up on subtleties' joke!  

[Faithwalk]

  Women think, People threw those items out for a reason: They're broken. Men think, People threw them out for me to fix.   I always wondered about this, now I finally understand  

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!  Please tell me how to do this.

Thanks

[Allinall]

 Women think, People threw those items out for a reason: They're broken. Men think, People threw them out for me to fix.   I always wondered about this, now I finally understand  

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!  Please tell me how to do this.

Thanks

Click the "quote" thingy on the end of the post you want to quote instead of clicking on the reply button.  

[Faithwalk]

 Women think, People threw those items out for a reason: They're broken. Men think, People threw them out for me to fix.   I always wondered about this, now I finally understand  

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!  Please tell me how to do this.

Thanks

Click the "quote" thingy on the end of the post you want to quote instead of clicking on the reply button.  

It worked!!! Thanks

[Willowbirch]

 Women think, People threw those items out for a reason: They're broken. Men think, People threw them out for me to fix.   I always wondered about this, now I finally understand  

HEY!!! I finally figured out how to do the labled quote thingy!!  Please tell me how to do this.

Thanks

Click the "quote" thingy on the end of the post you want to quote instead of clicking on the reply button.  

It worked!!! Thanks

Yay! The talent is spreading!