Wife Logic (formerly Girl Logic but I got too scared to say it)
Take a look at the comment in the blog below. Now that is amusing. :-)
Friend, I thank you for taking the time to come visit me, and I'm all about improving my life, but I'd need to know who you were and who you represent BEFORE I call any number. This text looks exactly like the other 50,000,000 spam emails that I get on a daily basis, and until it's proven otherwise I'm going to treat it like I do every other spam message and politely ignore it.
Oh and I'm not interested in herbal viagra either. (joking)
(I mean I'm NOT joking about not being interested but the entire thing was a...dammit never mind....)
I'm beginning to realize once again how little I understand women. Maybe it's not women. It could be just my wife.
I grew up watching sitcoms, like most of my generation, laughing at the Stupid Husband's inability to understand his wife, and his insensitivity that would lead to the fight we ALL knew was coming, and the eventual hijinks that would lead them back to happiness and marital bliss.
Looking back, I can only assume that these people are now laughing at me.
Don't get me wrong...I am an intelligent and fairly well spoken individual. I pride myself on being able to show empathy in a lot of situations with a lot of people. But for some reason around my wife I turn into a slobbering insensitive boob who can't seem to extract his foot from his mouth, let alone understand my life parter's motivations or thoughts.
Most of this I can track down the problem as being somewhere between the both of us, but as much as I love her, I am convinced some of our disagreements happen because she is totally insane.
We've had the toilet seat fight (I lost). We've had the discussion about yardwork (I'm still doing it all). But I have to say that the most contention (beyond money) we have is the Husband's Kryptonite...shopping.
I had no idea the stereotype was true! Five years ago I was blissfully unaware of the negative effects that four straight hours of shopping can have on a man's nerves and back.
Now I will admit I fit the stereotype of a "guy shopper". I don't like stores. I don't like crowds. So without alchohol being involved somehow, I tend to either avoid both or get my business DONE and get out. If I need something, I formulate my plan of attack before I hit the front doors. I know what I want, where it is, and how to best get there and then back to the cash registers. Once inside the store, I advance with ninjalike presicion along my path, swoop down to grab the item and I'm gone as quickly and stealthily as I came.
Yesterday we decided to head to the grocery store to pick up a few "essentials". I was under the false impression that this involved getting milk, Diet DP, some form of snack, and a couple of frozen meals for lunches. And to our testament we did GREAT for the first three aisles of the store! Then things slowed down. I dutifully followed my wife, knowing that to say anything would make me the crabby bad guy, no matter how late it was. We plodded around. We looked at items for full minute periods to decide if they were "essential" or not. Half an hour, $80, and six bags later, we managed to supply ourselves with enough sustenance to get through the next few days.
Of course I say this with tongue firmly planted in cheeck, and can guarantee you that I exaggerate on some things (though the prices, time and events of the above shopping trip are factual). In the end, my decorum (read: abject fear) slipped and I was the insensitive boob once again.
I think the only thing that amazes me more than how illogical she can be is how illogical -I- can be when faced with these little marital snafus.
Tim Taylor...Carl Winslow...Cliff Huxtable...I am very sorry for not understanding you, and I'd very much appreciate it if you'd ease up on the Karma.
I can hardly wait until I have to deal with KID logic. :-)
Peace out.
