Guys, you know what I mean. The scornful look. The shaking of the head. Then the comment.
"Typical male". Before sighing, and stomping off.
Whenever I am accused of being a typical male, my initial instinct is to get all defensive, and to deny said accusation. ESPECIALLY if it's a group of women. Self preservation instincts kick in. And this time was no exception. I denied my ass off.
I have, however, since had second thoughts.....
I am sitting in the front room, typing this blog with the television on a sports channel. I am not really watching it, because I am doing this. And as we all know, us men can only do one thing at a time. It is an absolute truth.
In fact, I am amazed that I am still alive. I am typing and breathing. At the same time. How is THAT possible!
Anyway, I digress. Television on sports channel, I'm not watching it. The remote control is less than an arms length away from me. If I was not a typical male, I would pass the remote to Mrs B, so she could choose what she wanted to watch.
In fact, I did it once. It must have been her birthday. Or I was drunk. Anyway, I gave her the remote. After showing her how to use it, (after all, she's never had such power!) she proceeded to channel hop.
Bloody hell that's SO annoying! Every time she changed channels, she was greeted by my saying "Hey, I was just getting into that!" After several minutes of this, she
The remote control is my comfort blankey. My favourite cuddly toy. If I fall asleep on the sofa, I even sleep with it in my hand, or lay on it!
And boy, do I go into a strop if I can't find it! I can't explain why. It's just the way it is.
So, what else about me is typically male?
I scratch and re-adjust myself. Frequently. Even when we have company.
Look ladies, us men have some pretty delicate equipment 'down there'. If things are not sitting quite right, or we have an itch, we simply cannot function, or concentrate, until everything is 'shipshape'.
Think of it this way. If you were listening to the radio, and it wasn't quite in tune, would you just put up with it? No. You'd adjust the tuning until it was in tune. Us blokes are doing the same. Just re-positioning the aerial a bit, in order to get a better 'reception'.
I can also parallel park. AND like any great chess player, in less than 6 moves. I don't even have to think about it. (Which says a lot in itself!) I pull up, select reverse gear, reverse into the space, select first, move forward to straighten up. Finished.
None of this forward and reversing until the gearbox falls out, only to realise that the space IS too small after all. Even though ANY man in the vicinity absolutely knows that he could get a bus in the space. A Double Decker one too!
I can also cut bread. And cheese. Perfectly straight and even. To the millimetre. And by eye. None of those wedges that are so steep, your average off road vehicle couldn't get up them. I don't know why I can do it, I just know I can.
And in the interest of
I HATE unloading the dishwasher. I will do almost anything to get out of it. The dishwasher gets put on before we go to bed. I know it needs emptying in the morning. So I make damn sure I am not the first person downstairs. I will do ANYTHING so as not have to empty it. Take another shower. Pair my socks. MAKE THE BLOODY BED for goodness sake!
Well, OK, the making the bed thing is a bit of a lie. If things get THAT desperate, then I will be first downstairs. And take the dog out. Or open the post.
Pathetic eh?
I also cannot find ANYTHING. Not a thing. I will open the shoe cupboard, and if the shoes that I want do not jump on to my feet immediately, I shout to Mrs B "Have you seen my shoes darling?"
At which point, Mrs B stops emptying the dishwasher, comes to the cupboard and gets my shoes that were hanging up three inches from my face. She then forcibly rams them into my chest, knocking the wind out of me in the process, says "There they are, (insert word that rhymes with banker here)", before storming off, muttering under her breathe.
I don't listen to Mrs B.
She will tell me that we were doing something at a certain time on a certain day, and I will nod. And say "Yeah, fine. Whatever". She will then ask me if I am listening. And, of course, I say yes. And, of course, the day arrives. And she says "Don't forget, we've got parents evening tonight". And, of course, I say "Well, why didn't you tell me".
And then there follows a 'discussion' involving accusations, and denials, which ends up with me realizing that she DID tell me, but continuing to deny all knowledge anyway. After all, stupidity is a defense, right?
This 'discussion', at least, is now a thing of the past. Mrs B doesn't tell me anymore. She writes it in my diary. Or, as I am a modern man, puts it on my phone. No denying it now. Damn she's good.
So now, I've been forced to take the 'not listening to her' thing to a whole new level. She will tell me about her day. Good or bad. I don't deliberately go out of my way not to listen. It's just that it's always when there is something REALLY interesting on the television. And as stated earlier, 2 conversations at the same time into 1 male simply will not go.
So, I 'fade her out'.
And of course, she realizes this, because I nod when I should have shaken.
"You're not listening to me, are you".
"Yes I am".
"What was I talking about then?"
"You were telling me that you bumped into Jess today, whilst in town". (The bit I WAS listening too).
"And then what?" (The bit I WASN'T listening to).
At this point, I realise I'm not going to win this one, and do the honorable, and typically male thing.
I run away.
"Erm....did I just hear one of the kids just call me?"
So, in summary, it seems I AM a typical male. And you know what? I take great comfort from, and am very proud of that fact. And the next time a woman accuses me of being a typical male, I will TOTALLY agree with her.
And, I will look her straight in the breasts when I'm saying it!
P.T.F.O.
