Yeah…that’s right. It just wouldn’t make any sense! It’d be like stuffing a round pizza into a square box, creating ‘cursive’ writing, pressing harder on the remote keys when the batteries are dead, or inventing that stupid ‘POKE’ option on FaceBook…
Some shit in this world just doesn’t make sense!
Why do we drive on a PARKway and park in a DRIVEway? Why does your dentist always insist on talking to you when he has his hands in your mouth? Why the f$%& did the Kardashians make $65,000,000 last year?
But…the biggest question on my mind today is who the hell decided it was a good idea to force five feet of estrogen into the same living quarters with six feet of testosterone 365 days a year and then expect them to live in harmony when they obviously don’t mix in so many ways?
Now…don’t get me wrong. I LOVE my man, and I’m not insulting the rules of the Bible. Think of this as a Mars vs. Venus observation!
We think differently, people, about EVERYTHING. And don’t get me going on the capacity to communicate effectively.
For a man: holding the remote (and their privates) while watching TV. (What IS that thing they have with holding their package?)
And NO, honey, I don’t know where you left your jock strap. I didn’t wear it this week. My friend called? And she had the baby? And you don’t remember the sex, or the name, or when she called, but you do know we are out of beer? Nice…
So, my idea? I keep asking my husband: “Honey, can we live in separate apartments and just date?”
Wouldn’t that be sexy and fun and just so romantic? Just like it was in the beginning!
The kicker? I want a WIFE!
Now, this epiphany didn’t just pop into my brilliant, bizarre mind on a whim. No, no, no… I’ve been thinking about this new revolution for a long, long time. Ever since I got vetoed at home on the ‘Honey, can I use the chainsaw to cut some driftwood and make an arbor for over the garage door?’ idea of mine. Stupid alpha male. Chainsaws + women = NO. Construction + ‘his’ checkbook = NO. Who the hell does he think he is…my partner or something?
But the particular catalyst for this brainstorm comes from my recent visit to an inspiring couple’s home, my friends Lola and Maggie (names changed to protect their fabulousness, and I couldn’t get a hold of them before I posted this!). These two awesome women are married, raise two of the greatest kids, run their own separate businesses (multiple I might add), and CONSTANTLY give to their community.
The positive energy in that house (and the freaking decorating) is amazing. Talk about ‘estrogenic’ camaraderie! I’m so freaking jealous! A roommate to gab with, reason with, decorate with, do all that girly-type-thinking-about-the-world stuff with (fess up people, most men…Mr. M. included…are a little lacking in that, let’s-evaluate-the-shit out-of-everything-FOR HOURS-and-over-think-it-then-drown-our-sorrows-in-ice cream arena). These gals have the most symbiotic, romantic, supportive relationship I’ve seen in a long time. Let’s not even get started on how they probably think alike and agree on everything ’cause they’re both brilliant ‘Venus’-borne organisms (she deducted, allowing the corner of her lips to turn up in a satisfied egomaniacal smirk)
What a freaking novel idea! “Like” living with “like” = Harmony!
So, did I say I want a wife? You’re damn right I do!
But not necessarily in the same sense as my wonderful friends, Lola and Maggie. It would just be so nice to have a partner to hang and watch Twilight with and who won’t ask, ‘Why the hell is he so skinny and white? I don’t see the big deal.’ Or a partner to say, ‘Honey, I can tell you had a bad day. Why don’t you come over here, and we’ll talk about it’ instead of ‘What’s wrong with you? Did you see where the kids put the remote?’ Sometimes Mr. M comes through for me and follows that up with a ‘Did you take your medicine today?’ before he starts lifting the couch cushions to begin his search and rescue.
(Okay…So I took a few creative liberties here for humor’s sake…The big M does do some grocery shopping for me, and he can cook a mean HeatNServe garlic bread and he’s really adorable to look at.)
Think of it, though…if all us gals cohabited and then dated our mates on the side, the house would be clean, organized, and gorgeously decorated (plus I wouldn’t have deer carcasses hanging in the ‘man’ room or flashlights and night vision cameras lying on every table surface). Being with the kids wouldn’t be considered babysitting (ever notice how new dads often refer to being with their kids in the absence of their wives as babysitting?) The conversation would be absolutely witty, intellectual, and riveting. Our diets would consist of more than venison steak, french fries, garlic bread, and pickles, and most importantly…I wouldn’t have to wear this ridiculous headlamp thing on my head to read in bed at night anymore…I’d have MY OWN DAMN BED!
And doesn’t this great idea just give DATE NIGHT a whole new sexy meaning? They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. So…Yeee Haaaw!!! Dress yourself up, big boy, (actually put some thought into wanting to look nice for me), come pick me up in your chariot, open that damn car door, take me OUT to dinner, then take me parking and have your wicked way with me in the back seat. Follow that up by kissing me senseless at the door (like some hot country video) to say goodnight! (Of course when I got home, the laundry would be folded, dishes done, house all tidy and my little single bed waiting for me with a REAL bedside lamp and a great book. And when I went to use the bathroom there’d be no ‘yellow spittle’ anywhere on the seat. Sometimes I think God gave my men a sprayer tip instead of the single stream option. Just my luck.)
Okay… so who’s in for a cohabitation revolution? Did I mention Maggie is a Licensed Massage Therapist, and Lola is the most talented photographer I’ve ever met? Talk about fringe benefits!
Men…chime in here! Think of how great it would be for you! Can anyone say MONOGOMOUS BOOTY CALL every night, then home in time for the game? And NO…we aren’t stopping over in our lingerie to clean and cook and do your laundry for you, so get that outta your head right now! Unless of course you have something to barter with.
DISCLAIMER: Certified Crazy Retraction – I ADORE my man (I mean “my men”…I’m surrounded by them in my house) and wouldn’t trade him for all the Rachel Rays, Donna Reeds, Oprah Winfreys, or Ellen Degeneres in the world. I’ll come find the milk for you in the fridge even though it’s RIGHT in front of your nose, every time, just for the thrill of rolling over, banging my headlamp into your forehead after blinding you, and kissing you goodnight. I just want my own bed….posturepedic/craftmatic with a remote!
What are a few pet peeves that get to you about your ‘room’ mate? Do you think it’s possible to change someone? What difference might we see in your home if it was ALL yours? How far has your mate come since you’ve taken him/her on?