Saturday, 12 September 2009

Men's Problems - Women

I like to live dangerously and this is probably as dangerous as it gets. If I haven’t alienated the female members of the human race already, I certainly could do after this post.

I want to talk about women, yet again, but this time I want to discuss how the fair sex can be a problem to men. As much as we love them, they can be a major headache for us - sometimes.

As I have said before, I really struggle to get my head around the female sex, but I know that I am not alone. In fact, I will go further and say that no man alive really understands women. Any man who claims to is a fibber, and a big one at that.

I have moments of delusion when the antics of Mrs PM and other women appear to make perfect sense. When such moments occur, I celebrate and say to myself: at last, finally, I know what goes on in the female brain. My euphoria is usually short lived because Mrs PM stuns me by reacting totally different to expectation, crushing my jubilation to an embarrassing pulp.

But it’s worse than that because understanding women is not the only problem for men; it’s the whole female package. What do I mean by that? Allow me to elaborate.

Like most men, I love to admire a beautiful woman. I do so subconsciously, my eyes driven by a primeval force that I can’t control. Most men are the same.

Many years ago, when I was a young idiot, a female friend and I were chatting when the conversation drifted towards a mutual acquaintance.

“He’s a nice guy,” she said, “but he is a total letch.”

“A letch?” I asked. “What do you mean? What’s a letch?”

“Well when he’s talking to me, he doesn’t look at my face.”

Puzzled (and stupid) I probed further.

“That’s a bit rude isn’t it? Or maybe he’s just shy. I’m a bit like that – I tend to look away sometimes when talking to people.”

“Oh he’s definitely NOT shy,” she said. “When he talks to me, he just stares at my boobs.”

“Ah!” I stuttered.

And my eyes were suddenly drawn to her boobs. I couldn’t help myself; I was a young testosterone-fuelled male, listening to a female complaining about a man who stared at her like she was an object of lust – and I was doing exactly the same. I tried to force my eyes upwards to her face but all I could focus on was her cleavage. It was as if I had two devils sitting on my shoulders.

“Cop an eyeful of those,” growled the demon.

“Look at her face; she will despise you,” said the angel.

In my defence, I couldn’t help myself. Any heterosexual man who claims that he doesn’t stare at attractive women is an absolute liar. That’s a bold statement but I consider it to be absolutely true.

In my youth, I would walk down the street analysing every single women who walked past me, eyeing each one up and down; her hair, her face, her boobs, her figure, her legs, her overall shape and imagining how wonderful it would be to be walking next to this attractive creature with my arm around her waist, smelling her wonderful perfume. My imagination sometimes ran amok.

Even though I was in a relationship, I simply couldn’t help myself. Having listened to my female friend complaining about lechers, I became self-conscious and forced myself not to stare. But sometimes (most times if I am perfectly honest) I failed spectacularly. When confronted by a hideously ugly bloke with his tongue dragging on the floor, leering like a starving bulldog leaving a trail of dribble behind like a monstrous slug, most women simply looked away. Others glared with venom in their eyes and violence in their thoughts.

Nowadays, of course, I don’t look like some manic sexually charged animal; however, I still appreciate a beautiful woman and although I am in my mid-forties I find myself occasionally appreciating the beauty of women in their twenties. It can be embarrassing though if my eyes rebel and drift up and down their bodies as they are talking to me. I try my best to look into their eyes – but that too can get me into trouble. The only thing that has changed since my youthful days is that I still find many women in their forties gorgeous as well.

You will often hear the old adage that says that men think about sex approximately every seven seconds. This is utter bilge; when I was young I never ever stopped thinking about sex; every young woman I met was a potential conquest. It was just a pity that I didn’t have the means to win those battles. If a woman were to somehow manage to get past my ape-like features, my “witty banter” poured forth like a wave of demented twaddle. I didn’t know how to talk to women so how could I make one love me?

Of course, as you have probably gathered, I managed to find myself a woman crazy enough to put up with me (something else I have never understood). Once I had overcome that barrier I was delighted. Something slotted into place within and I became a different person.

Thus, I moved from being an idiotic sex-crazed baboon to being a contented young man happy to settle down with a woman who loved me; and a new challenge arose and slapped me across the face.

Living with a woman is a massively rewarding experience and I wouldn’t change many things. I would however give anything to solve the particular problems that the experience of living together creates. They are not massive problems by any means but I do feel powerless to react. I’m an educated person who loves to solve problems; but I am frustrated because the solutions to these particular conundrums elude me.

Here are a few examples:

Why does a woman dress to impress other women instead of other men? I discovered this disturbing trait fairly recently. We were going out with a couple of friends and all of the women complemented each other on how they were dressed. Mrs PM had changed her clothes several times before going out and each time I said “You look gorgeous. What’s the problem?”

She confessed that she had to look better than her friends – or at least as good as them. As a man this was a completely alien concept to me. I would have gone out in jeans and a T-shirt if I could have done and I wouldn’t have cared one jot what my mates thought about my attire. Yet she, and all the other women were desperate to impress each other and not the guys who were there.

Why do two men chat to each other on the phone for about twenty seconds and women for about twenty hours?

Why does Mrs PM hide clothes that she doesn’t want me to wear? Mrs PM feels a desperate urge to approve any clothes that I buy. If, for some reason, I manage to escape to a clothes shop without her being present, and then buy something she hasn’t vetted, I can guarantee that if she doesn’t like it, she will remove it from my wardrobe and hide it somewhere. And she will lie to me as well.

Me: “What do you think of this shirt?”

Mrs PM (through gritted teeth):”It’s … erm … nice. Why did you buy it?”

Me: “I like it. Why do you ask?”

Mrs PM: “Erm no reason”

A week later you can guarantee it has gone missing.

Me: “Where’s that yellow shirt I bought last week?”

Mrs PM: “What yellow shirt?”

Me: “The one I bought last week that you said was nice.”

Mrs PM: “Yellow doesn’t suit you. Put on the blue shirt.”

Me:”You’ve hidden it haven’t you?”

Mrs PM: “No!” …”Yes! I hate it! It makes you look like an anaemic window dummy!”

Another bone of contention is doing stuff around the house. I’ve learned that little things really matter. For example, if a man spends the whole day decorating the room, he can suffer because he has only done one thing. Why for example, didn’t he do the washing up? This particular problem may not be true of all women, but I do know that if on a Saturday, I get up and spend two hours hoovering , cleaning the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, Mrs PM will be happier than if I spend three hours washing the cars. Why? Because I have completed three tasks instead of just the one.

I’m sure that not all women are like this but some, like Mrs PM, definitely are.

What about when you say the wrong thing? Mrs PM and I don’t argue very much at all but when we do it is usually because I have somehow put my foot in it by saying something I think is perfectly reasonable and totally truthful, yet somehow it pushes the anger button within Mrs PM’s psyche. The end result is that I am berated for something I simply do not understand; when I protest my innocence it is like trying to put out a fire with a nuclear warhead. The snowball effect has nothing on these arguments.

I’ve learned to shut up and let Mrs PM burn herself out. And then, most of the time, I can repair the damage with a bunch of flowers, a box of chocolates or a cuddly toy.

See what I mean? Women can sometimes be so illogical that they give men an horrific headache.

Regular readers will probably be thinking:

“For heaven’s sake, Plastic Moron! Women aren’t that difficult to understand. Are you completely deranged? Are you just stupid? Will you please stop going on about women?”

To those people I say this:

I may be stupid but I need to understand women. The theme of this post implies that women are a problem for men. They are definitely not – not really - well sometimes.

What I am trying to do is to draw your attention, dear female reader, to the fact that we simply do not understand you and, that you simply do not understand us back.

We stare and gawp at gorgeous women because we love looking at the beautiful female form. Although some of us may be lechers, the majority are not but are driven by a primeval urge. Our goals are different from yours.

When we live with women, they think that we are lazy good-for-nothing emotionless imbeciles with no compassion who simply want to drink or watch and play sports. There is some truth in that but again we can’t help it. While a bunch of flowers or a box of chocolates will make ladies happy, just letting a man go to the toilet with a newspaper for ten minutes will make him happy. While you want to spend three hours on the phone chatting to your best friend about emotional issues, we are quite happy to get a mate round and watch the big game with several cans of beer and testosterone-fuelled aggression.

When your man screams during a football match because his team have just conceded a goal, don’t scold him because he has spilled beer on the floor. Embrace him and make him feel better. Don’t ask stupid questions like “which team is winning?” or “who’s playing?” or “what a good goal that was. Was that your team?”

When your man hoovers the house, don’t scold him for not loading the dishwasher and filling the washing machine. He will do it next time if you thank him.

When a man stares at you in the street, it is because you are beautiful, not because he is a lecherous drooling baboon (even if I am – I can’t help it).

We should embrace our differences and try to understand each other.

If any women are annoyed by this post, please understand that this is not my intention. I adore women and I respect them with all my heart. Women are beautiful, kind, intelligent creatures and I love you all to bits. I have also ignored something a friend of mine once said:

“All women, without exception, are mad.”

He simply has bigger problems than me understanding the fairer sex. Don’t be too hard on him – he is a goon. That sentiment certainly does not exist on this blog (although it may seem the case sometimes).

I’m off now to watch the big game. I will require the following items:

A TV and a can of beer and a lot of patience (for when Mrs PM comes in and asks me why I didn’t dust when I hoovered earlier today).


Anonymous said...

It's been ages since I had so much fun reading a blog post :D.

I'd comment many things, but let me just say I loved the whole idea of hiding "ugly" clothes :). It's so much easier than fighting over those yellow shirts you men like to wear.

Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Najork,

Yes - hiding "ugly" clothes is just one of the things Mrs PM does. There are many more subtle and crafty things she does. If I were to dare to hide any of here clothes she would know within two minutes and the pain would be unbearable.

Still, I get my revenge because I make a special effort to wear any clothes she hides.

By the way, what's wrong with yellow shirts?




Kath Lockett said...

Or, to put it in much quicker terms, thanks to Robin Williams:
"Men are only given a certain amount of blood, and it can only fill up our heads or our penises - never both at the same time."

Plastic Mancunian said...

G'day Kath,


I can't argue with that.




bingkee said...

heheheh...that staring in the boobs is so classic.

In most cases I find all of these as true, but in my experience with people who are close to me , there are some exceptions. I don't dress for men ---but for me and for my husband (or other men in my life before).
I don't think all men are emotionless imbeciles because I grew up with 3 brothers, and 22 male cousin. I witnessed their emotions, and even their meltdowns.
And unlike other women, I love sports. I used to play basketball in h.s., and now enjoys watching baseball with my husband.
I used to hang around with my brothers' friends and enjoy being the only female among the group. Because they took extra -special care for me. I was their princess.

Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Bingkee,

I'm absolutely sure that there are exceptions. I, for one, am not an emotionless muppet (though I have been accused as such in the past).

And I'm delighted that there are ladies like yourself who love sport (I know a few myself). Mrs PM hates it as a rule, though she will watch important football matches occasionally - the ony problem is the number of questions she asks (though really that's a good thing but she is keen to learn - I hope).




River said...

I dress for myself. I don't give a hoot about fashion or what others think of me.
Tell Mrs PM that you did dust, but then opened the windows for fresh air and a whole new lot of dust blew in and settled.....

Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi River,

I'm glad to hear it. Maybe Mrs PM is in the minority.

Love the excuse as well - I may start compiling a list.




Kate M said...

You know what, I'm a straight female, and I have to admit when I see a woman with impressive cleavage, I can't help but stare. I think our eyes are inherently drawn to things that are big and noticeable. A bit like how men will generally notice blondes first. If something stands out, we'll look - it's human nature, methinks.

And on that note: The only problem with women is men ;)

Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Kate,

Funnily enough - that was going to be the subject of a future post




Anonymous said...

I'm not sure if I can give you a true female opinion but I'd like to try

1. though I usually dress for myself and my husband (usually it's jeans'n't-shirt style) I can see why women dress for each other. It is an instinct: the one who looks prettier, younger etc attracts more men and also has a higher status (you know like in nature the alpha species always look bigger and stronger and have more mates than those with lower ranks) so the goal is to show her status to other females so that they don't prey on her territory so to speak.

2. When I were in my mid-teens I used to speak a lot on the phone but these were talks about nothing really. Looks like it is just the way to express some emotions and expressions to another person to prevent the brain overload? When I got married however I stopped talking on the phone because it is more interesting to me to speak about some interesting things to my husband then talk about meaningless things with girlfriends.

3. I think Mrs PM tries to control you if she hides the clothes that you chose without her approval. Or maybe she has a certain image of you in her mind that she wants you to suit and the clothes you buy don't correlate with this image. Also if she likes dressing for other people showing her status may be she wants your status to be higher (in the way she sees it) as well in other people's eyes. I remember one woman who told her husband what to wear for the picnic for she thought he looks older in the clothes he chose for himself.

Ugh looks like a long comment so I'll stop here. Hope a bit of it might be helpful )

Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Aluajala,

Thanks for taking the time to make a fabulous comment. Here's what I think:

(1) I've heard of (and met) many alpha males but I've never been aware that there is usch a thing as an alpha female. That's a brilliant concept and I will make an effort to spot these people. Alpha males are obvious but, until you mentioned it, I had no idea that the female equivalent existed.

(2) I think that women like to discuss more emotional issues generally whereas a lot of men are like amoeba when it come to feelings (generally speaking). But a lot of things women like to talk about to each other don't interest men at all, I find and vice versa. Men can be emotive about sport but it is better to talk about it face to face (in my experience anyway).

(3)Yes - I am fully aware of Mrs PM's intentions, hence the reason she insists on accompanying me when shopping for clothes. I am also aware of her tricks so I make sure that I wear things she doesn't like (well sometimes anyway).

It was a long comment but it was also a great and extremely intersting comment - and I've learned something too.

Thanks again




Robin Easton said...

Dear PM,

I laughed my way through this and see right through you to the sensitive, larger than life heart that you have (whether you wear yellow shirts or not and no matter where your eyes go).

I think because I grew up with four brothers and was probably closer to them and my dad than my 1 older sister and mother, I find men much easier to be around. Like I let down more, be less pretentious, don't have talk on the phone for hours, can kick back and not worry about some mess in the house, farts, or whether I'm wearing the latest fashions. I totally dress for myself and don't care what anyone thinks. If I don't like it and it's not comfortable I don't wear it. If "I" like "I" wear it. I tend to create my own style, and even that changes with my mood.

Don't get me wrong, I have some of the dearest and most amazing women friends and I do doll up from time to time (but for me). The bottom line is, I lived in the bush a lot of my life and I love to climb trees (still), I like to wear baggy bush shorts with huge pockets and men's T-shirts and run around barefoot. LOL!!!

Oddly I have found that the men I know are open to emotions and discussing how they feel, or at the very least are intrigued by them and want to learn to be more open, not for me or their wives but simply to better understand themselves and why they do what they do, or why women are how they are and why Life is the way it is, etc. Just like your post here and many of your other posts. You are, through your writing, exploring how you feel about things. It's a great way to do it and we get to be part of it. Which is SO much fun.

I agree with Kate. I'm a straight female as well, and yet I sometimes can't help but stare at well-built men, large breasted women, tall long blond-haired women, or drastically handsome males or females. I think it's whatever is unusual or stands out or is larger than life, or above the norm in size, looks, etc. It think it's human nature.

This is such a fun post! Rich fodder for more than I've written here. I love the comments as well. I relate to #1 on Aluajala's comment. I was going to say the same thing as to why women try to out do each other with dress. It's a bit like some guys trying to be the most muscular, etc.

Wow, you could write a whole book on this topic. Great post! Made me laugh and think.


Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Robin,

Thanks for another fab comment.

I grew up with two sisters - and yet I still don't understand women :-)

That said, I have actually learned a lot by reading other people's posts on the differences between the sexes and a lot of women have made positive comments about my idiotic misunderstanding - including Mrs PM who has asked questions like "Do you really think that?" and has said things like "I didn't realise what was going on in that head of yours" and has learned a little more about me and my stupidity.

I am getting there - the path through life is a fun but complicated one - especially when trying to understand other people.