You’re a man, you haven’t yet bought your wife a Christmas gift, and I know what you’re thinking: “If I wait until after work on the 24th, I’ll get all the good deals.”
Well, no, you won’t. You’ll get all that’s left on the shelves, which will be three non-seasonal candles, lilac-scented would be my guess, a Clapper, and a set of multihued non-stick baking pans that have not met federal safety standards. The clerk will roll her eyes as you run around frantically looking for something, anything for the most important person in your life, and will chortle madly after you finally pick up the Clapper and ask her to wrap it, because she knows, deep in her womanly heart, that sometime after Christmas morning your wife will use it on you in ways that were never intended, and possibly illegal.
Of course, you could have avoided all this because your wife told you five months ago precisely what it was she wanted for Christmas. And she’s continually reminded you about once a week precisely what it was she wanted for Christmas. The problem is, you weren’t listening.
Not that it’s your fault. You’re just a man, after all, and the law stating that men and women will ever effectively communicate has yet to be written. For example, a wife asks a husband what he wants for Christmas. He says, “Oh, I don’t know. Actually, I’ve wanted a snow-blower ever since I ruptured that disk two years ago and have been in intense pain every time I bend over.” What she hears is, “Oh, I don’t know.” So she buys him, say, a new pair of lovely and expensive fleece lined gloves. Which he’ll wear every time he goes out in intense pain to shovel the driveway.
It’s not that she’s not listening, it’s just that she thinks she knows what he really wants. And that’s because she is a woman and therefore communicates by innuendo, and expects the same from her husband. It’s a basic and primal difference between us. Men speak in a direct and lucid manner. Women, on the other hand, use what I call the “Bermuda Triangle Method of Communication,” where hints and abstract intimations appear all over the radar screen, only to suddenly vanish without proper identification.
Which is why you are now looking at that Clapper thinking, “But, if only she’d told me what she’d wanted…” But, again, she did. More accurately, she implied it, and expected you to read between the lines. Nevertheless, since you’ve got a few more days left to shop, and since the wrong gift is a very, very bad thing, here is my annual Guide to
What She Wants for Christmas:
What she said: “Any little thing would be fine.”
Translation: “Any little thing like that cute tennis bracelet I pointed out in Zales last July.”
What she said: “You have good taste, just pick out something.”
Translation: “You have no taste, just call my sister.”
What she said: “I’ve got everything I want in you.”
Translation: “But you’re not a two-week, expenses paid vacation in Maui without the kids.”
What she said: “Surprise me.”
Translation: “Surprise me by imagining what you think I’d like, then getting the opposite.”
What she said: “Something for the house, I guess.”
Translation: “If I see a Clapper, sex will be just another three-letter word, as in ‘not.’ ”
So go to it, and Happy Holidays to all.
Translation: And no Chia Pets, either.
# # #
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Hard Knocks
Men constantly ask the question “What do women want?” We ask this not because we think it’s possible to actually know—I mean, we already have a vague and somewhat unsettling idea of what women want, and apparently it has something to do with sensitivity and meaningful relationships. No, men ask the question because we want to curry favor with women by asking it; the mere act of asking implies that we’re sensitive and might be meaningful types. Beyond that, most men believe that women are, by and large, mysterious beyond comprehension, and that the question “What do women want?” can only truly be answered by God and Gloria Aldrich. Not necessarily in that order.
On the other hand, men have always been transparent. It’s easy to know what men want, and that is a world-class erection. If you’ve ever had any doubt, witness the rise, if you will, of the impotence drugs Viagra, Cialis, Levitra, and the like. Since their inception, annual sales of the drugs have reached $3 billion; men are snapping them up faster than teenage girls are tweeting about Justin Bieber sightings. What’s up? Well, there you have it.
About 98 percent of men’s thoughts during an average waking day focuses on two important questions: “How was the sex the last time I had it?” and “When can I have sex again?” The remaining two percent focuses on the quotidian concerns of living -- food, shelter, family, and big honking boats. Consequently, men regularly think about their external vascular organs. Impotence afflicts an estimated 30 million men -- it’s hard to say exactly how many, since embarrassment precludes many men from going to their doctors, which can lead to psychological blocks that exacerbate the condition, thereby leading to further embarrassment and dysfunction, etc. It’s enough to say that a man without the ability to have an erection thinks of himself as a job without the paycheck.
Viagra, then, lifts the spirits as well as the appropriate body parts. It involves no pumps, no injections, no fuss. Just pop the pill about an hour before you plan not to be seen in public, and you’ll draw a full house in no time. And, there’s a new improved product, a wafer that dissolves instantly and clears you for takeoff within seconds. This of course is something you do not want to keep in your coat pocket next to the Certs. Grabbing the wrong wafer at, say, a sales meeting where you’re delivering that new marketing campaign -- standing up, no podium -- is probably not the sort of advertising you’d have had in mind.
Unfortunately the Viagra phenomenon has recorded some unfortunate side-affects, one of which is watching TV with your eleven-year-old son when the commercial comes on. The first time the announcer warned against the dangers of four-hour erection, my son looked up and said, and I swear this is true, "Dad, has that ever happened to you?"
"Uhm, well," I said, cleverly, "fours hours? Four minutes, maybe. And what do you know about these things?"
Viva Viagra anyone?
Unfortunately, the Viagra phenomenon confirms the worst fears of some women, which is that men aren’t wholly interested in sensitivity and cuddling. Herein lies a sexual bridge only occasionally crossed. When men think of sex, they focus on the physical act itself. When women think of sex, they think of the whole , from flowers to fondue (at least in the ‘70s) to tender afterglow. Men can isolate and compartmentalize aspects of the sexual experience, and, let’s face it, most of them involve an erection. I mean, cuddling is fine and all, but when a top is wound up, it’s got to spin.
If nothing else, the staggering number of men buying Viagra et al. gives us some insight into the amount of sexual activity that occurs on a daily basis in these United States. Not that any of it is happening to me -- I’ve got kids, enough said there -- but I’m not jealous. Rather, I’m heartened to know that if my mind ever makes a promise that my body can’t fill, there’s a pill.
On the other hand, men have always been transparent. It’s easy to know what men want, and that is a world-class erection. If you’ve ever had any doubt, witness the rise, if you will, of the impotence drugs Viagra, Cialis, Levitra, and the like. Since their inception, annual sales of the drugs have reached $3 billion; men are snapping them up faster than teenage girls are tweeting about Justin Bieber sightings. What’s up? Well, there you have it.
About 98 percent of men’s thoughts during an average waking day focuses on two important questions: “How was the sex the last time I had it?” and “When can I have sex again?” The remaining two percent focuses on the quotidian concerns of living -- food, shelter, family, and big honking boats. Consequently, men regularly think about their external vascular organs. Impotence afflicts an estimated 30 million men -- it’s hard to say exactly how many, since embarrassment precludes many men from going to their doctors, which can lead to psychological blocks that exacerbate the condition, thereby leading to further embarrassment and dysfunction, etc. It’s enough to say that a man without the ability to have an erection thinks of himself as a job without the paycheck.
Viagra, then, lifts the spirits as well as the appropriate body parts. It involves no pumps, no injections, no fuss. Just pop the pill about an hour before you plan not to be seen in public, and you’ll draw a full house in no time. And, there’s a new improved product, a wafer that dissolves instantly and clears you for takeoff within seconds. This of course is something you do not want to keep in your coat pocket next to the Certs. Grabbing the wrong wafer at, say, a sales meeting where you’re delivering that new marketing campaign -- standing up, no podium -- is probably not the sort of advertising you’d have had in mind.
Unfortunately the Viagra phenomenon has recorded some unfortunate side-affects, one of which is watching TV with your eleven-year-old son when the commercial comes on. The first time the announcer warned against the dangers of four-hour erection, my son looked up and said, and I swear this is true, "Dad, has that ever happened to you?"
"Uhm, well," I said, cleverly, "fours hours? Four minutes, maybe. And what do you know about these things?"
Viva Viagra anyone?
Unfortunately, the Viagra phenomenon confirms the worst fears of some women, which is that men aren’t wholly interested in sensitivity and cuddling. Herein lies a sexual bridge only occasionally crossed. When men think of sex, they focus on the physical act itself. When women think of sex, they think of the whole , from flowers to fondue (at least in the ‘70s) to tender afterglow. Men can isolate and compartmentalize aspects of the sexual experience, and, let’s face it, most of them involve an erection. I mean, cuddling is fine and all, but when a top is wound up, it’s got to spin.
If nothing else, the staggering number of men buying Viagra et al. gives us some insight into the amount of sexual activity that occurs on a daily basis in these United States. Not that any of it is happening to me -- I’ve got kids, enough said there -- but I’m not jealous. Rather, I’m heartened to know that if my mind ever makes a promise that my body can’t fill, there’s a pill.
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