Let’s set the stage. I’m a man. I’m married to a woman. She is caring, intelligent, compassionate, beautiful (insert more superlatives here) but ultimately she is a woman. For my younger readers who are just starting out on the first of their many relationships you may learn from my experience. This is my third marriage. This one has lasted over twenty years. The first two? Not so long-lived. Why? Because I had not perfected my mental editing software. Just like I try to go back over these posts and check for glaring errors, so men must check the words that are about to tumble out of their mouth for glaring errors. To continue the analogy, when I’m typing this post I know I won’t accidentally type great profanities or libelous sentences. That’s the easy part. But little errors of grammar and syntax slip through that might to irritate some peoples to see. (See?)
So in the early days of a relationship I’m sure you know enough not to look at your dear love and say something like, “Holy crap, that outfit makes you look fat as a house. And while I’m at it, did a squirrel move into your hair?”
It’s the little things you say that you are completely unaware of that build brick by brick until your woman has erected a massive wall of “idiot” surrounding you. When she looks at you she doesn’t see that hot guy anymore. She sees a monument built to stupid. This usually takes some time. Like any great construction project, it drags on but before you know it. the job’s done. That wall’s built and it’s very hard to disassemble.
Here’s an example from my own life. It proves that the road can be rocky even for the journeyman relationship guy.
My lovely wife and I were shopping at the big mall. We were browsing. This is dangerous for the guy. This prevents him from pre-planning his replies to whatever the target purchase might be. It’s important to plan ahead so that you can feign interest in whatever you’re looking for. But lovely, talented wife did not have an objective. We were “browsing” not “shopping”. We tiptoed through the relationship/communication minefield. Women are immune to this danger. Men are naked in a cactus patch.
We strolled past a display that made my heart slow and my acid reflux re-fluxilate. The sign said 70% off plus take an extra 10% with a coupon! It might well of said “Bring world peace and end hunger now!”
The convoy ground to halt. The display was filled with towels. Glorious wonderful towels. “Guest Bath” towels- the holy grail of towels. They were on sale. We had found the Ark of the Covenant. Celestial choirs sang. My inner voice started to say let’s grab some and keep walking. But my experienced inner editor voice slapped the crap out of stupid inner voice and it came out as, “Those are wonderful, lovely wife! They will make a great addition for the guest bath!” I was so proud of me. The came the inevitable question for which there is no good answer. My exceptionally sweet wife asked, “What color do you think we should get?” Inner voice wailed in terror knowing there was no chance of a correct answer. Experience went for the deflection card. Like an old senator who is asked about his stand on almost anything, I said, “There are just so many great choices, which do you think would go best?”
Here is where we come full circle to the title of this post: Am I color blind, stupid, or apathetic? There were many shades of colors on the table. But for all practical purposes as a man I just see the primary colors. The colors were red or blue or green or yellow. I frankly don’t even know if those are primary colors. I frankly don’t give a rat’s ass either.
Women don’t see the basic colors. They see Spring Rain, Oatmeal, Morning Dew, Tapioca, Mountain Mist, Sunny Reflection and Ferret Sphincter!” (For the men, that last one is BROWN. Oatmeal and Tapioca are foods, not colors!
So I was pressed and prodded for an actual answer. I knew better but I said, “I like the green one.” “Green?” lovely wife replied, “There is no GREEN towel on the table!” I knew better but again I slipped up and raised up one of the towels. “This one. I like this one,” I mumbled, cowed by my better half. “That’s not green,” she patiently explained, “that’s Mint Julip. Here,” she said, picking up one blue and one orange towel, “Which one do you like best?” I hesitated, once again hoping that 50/50 odds would tilt in my favor. “The blue one,” I said touching what I assumed in my folly was a blue towel. You could see the disappointment flicker across her face. I would have been better off bringing a crack whore home if said crack whore could help with towel selection. “No, no, no, that’s not blue and it would not match the tile at all.”
Now here’s my question to the women people species out there. Why do you ask us? Anything? You already know we’re wrong. The question is irrelevant. The men are wrong.
I assumed (LOL) that when she said, “Which one do you like best?” that she meant, “Which one do you like best?” But noooooo, she meant, “which of these would you choose to match some imaginary concept that I have that you can’t possibly fathom and no matter what you say you’re going to be wrong so I don’t even know why you bother you ignorant unfeeling troglodyte my father was right you’re a loser.”
So you see guys the answer’s not that hard. We’re not color blind. We can see colors just fine. We’re not stupid, we know we’re always going to be wrong. The answer is apathetic. After a certain number of years of this routine we just don’t give a shit anymore.
A quick note to my gay friends. I think I hate you. Why? Because you get to hook up with a person of the same gender and can forgo all of the above drama. You have it so good! You are so lucky to be gay! If gay was truly a choice I’d be so all over it. I can see shopping for towels with my man. We see a display of towels and he’d say we need new towels for the guest bath. Then we’d both look at each other and crack up and go for a beer. Gay people are so lucky!
Thank you reading this little essay. You honor me by sharing your time.
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