The Male Mind

The male mind is completely different than the female mind! (As if we didn’t already know this….) There are times when I look the Crankee Yankee straight in the eye and say, “Are you seriously out of your mind?”

I say this when:

  • He sees yet another wheelbarrow on the side of the road marked ‘Free’ (he has six already).
  • Someone cuts him off in traffic and he gets right up on their tailpipe with his lights on bright. (This is when I remind him that sometimes people carry guns in the car for this very situation.)
  • Someone gets on his bumper and he slows waaaaaaaay down just to aggravate the someone behind him.
  • We are at the doctor’s office and he thinks it’s ok to ramble on and on and on about his opinion about the healthcare system. (Tick tock, buddy—they don’t have enough time as it is!)
  • He brings home one more “whimsical” doo-dad for the garden.

Also, men think that these things are ok:

  • Scratching yourself in public. When you call them out about it, they reply “but I itch!“. As if they can’t wait to go somewhere private to do it. (And honestly, they do not care who sees them doing this.)
  • If the driver behind you is too close, he’s an ass. If he’s in front of you going too slow for you, he’s an ass.
  • Constantly giving unasked-for opinions.
  • Flipping someone off in traffic. (Good grief, do they want to become another statistic?)
  • Offering you their used bath towel (I really do not want my face where his butt has been).
  • Hawking a loogie out of the car window in traffic. (Really?!)

But here’s the thing: men are an awful lot like babies and pets; God makes them cute so that you don’t kill them. Just when you think that your man has jumped on your last nerve, they do something so sweet, so adorable, so thoughtful that your bones melt.

I swear, it’s all part of their *SEP to stay alive while living with us.

*SEP + Secret Evil Plan.

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Details, Details…..

The other day I tried to tell the Crankee Yankee about a funny t-shirt I saw in a window of a store. I was just about ready to deliver the punchline; that is, what the shirt “said,” when he interrupted me:

“Where was the store?”

HUH? ‘Where was the store?’ What the heck did it matter? I was trying to tell him what was on the front of the t-shirt! So I told him it didn’t matter (I’d forgotten, anyway), and again started to tell him about the t-shirt.

But he just had to know where the store was–it didn’t seem to matter that I was only trying to tell him about the funny slogan on the t-shirt that was in the store window.

Gathering my patience, I repeated that I didn’t remember where the store was, and could I please finish what I was saying? He reluctantly agreed, but he already had that ‘I MUST know where this place is or I can’t hear another word you’re saying!’ look in his eyes.

So I tried to finish telling him about the slogan on the t-shirt–I had  just opened my mouth, and he said, “Well, was the store in NH?”

Sigh. I knew I wasn’t going to get his attention to finish what I was saying, so I said that yes, it was in NH. He brightened right up and asked, “Where exactly in NH?”

Well, I gave up at that point. By this time, way too much time had passed and the moment was lost. And this is the story of our lives. I live for the delivery, he lives for details.

By no means is he the only person who does this, either. In fact, I find that the majority of people seem to feel this way. It’s as if they just cannot stand it if they don’t know the dull and unimportant (in my mind, anyway) details. I want to get right to the meat of the story–for me, what does it matter if the store is in NH or Madagascar? What, do they all want me to deliver a research paper or just tell the dang story?!

Details, mere details, my friends.