Can we Talk About Men’s Socks and Underwear?

Can we Talk About Men’s Socks and Underwear?

When we live with a man it takes some time to get used to the not-woman stuff that comes with him. Beard scrapings in the sink, toilet seat wrongness, incorrect dishwasher loading and farts. So many farts. This piece is life advice for young women who choose the path of a domestic arrangement with a male human. Your mother may have had “the talk” with you, but I bet she didn’t tell you about the socks and underwear thing. She never mentioned how much real estate his socks and underwear would take up in your marriage. This goes way beyond drawer space allocation. There is the “socks on the floor” drama. I find them everywhere. Random sock removal from feet happens at our house, and now, following his example, my children do it too. Some days it looks like an evil trickster put a bunch of socks in the hands of a poltergeist who then used them to do the dance of 1000 socks in my house. The flung socks blanket every damned surface and are stuffed in every nook and cranny. I mean really – is there some legitimate reason there is a dirty sock hanging on the living room lampshade? Are you all just a bunch of sock monkeys climbing on shit and dropping them everywhere? (My family laughed at my tears, then offered me a sock to blow my nose.) Then there is the underwear and sock audit. Like most husbands, mine will wear a pair of gonch until they are more holes than fabric. The elastic droopily hangs around his Dad bod waistline, with a few frayed bits of fabric holding up what is left of the briefs. So not attractive, and frankly hardly up for the job of being underwear anymore. His socks are the same – no elasticity, big gnarly toes sticking out, and often the dog has had a go at them to boot. Some of them don’t technically qualify as socks anymore. They would be more identifiable as a sea anemone washed up rotting on the beach. The drama comes when I toss old underpants out while he is present for the funeral. He looks alarmed like I am killing his favourite hamster or something. “Those are still perfectly good and soft and I finally have them broken in!” he whines. And by “broken in” if he means ripped, stretched, stained and malformed, then yes, they are broken in. I now just throw them out when he isn’t around, and put other acceptable garbage over top so he doesn’t see them and pull them back out (Yes, that has happened… ) Then there is the whole fashion issue around socks. When...
You Too Will Speak These Words to Your Husband

You Too Will Speak These Words to Your Husband

This is for all the young ladies out there who are in the early phases of “wifehood” or “shackupness” or whatever. You are in that formative stage where you haven’t gotten your “5 year pin” yet. So for all intents and purposes, you know not much, but you have a man. If this sounds like you, read on. Here are things that may sound appalling right now, but I can assure you, at some point will actually come out of your mouth. You might want to write these down and let me know how long it took you to say them all… go ahead, get a pen, I will wait right here. One day you will say most of these things to your man: What on earth is that smell? Did you shit? No, you are not dying, you have a cold. Get your own fucking coffee. Do you even see socks when they aren’t on your feet?  You could try something new here honey, and deal with the child instead of waiting for me? Did you put gas in my car? I thought you were picking her up at soccer? Jesus Christ how long has she been waiting on the sidewalk? Do something about that fur please. Seriously, I bought you a personal weed whacker, use it. After that epic fart and rather repulsive ball scratch, I just don’t know how I am keeping my pants on right now. Ya, I am awake, but hurry up, I am tired. This is your idea of a date night? Yes I am too drunk to drive, and so are my friends, can you come and get us? (giggle giggle burp) No I don’t know where you left your _____ (insert any object here). You put that baby in there, you will stand here like a man and watch it come out and no you cannot have my drugs. Yes of course I would like breakfast in bed made by toddlers who you clearly were not supervising. Stop crying, it is just waxing for crap’s sake, you should see where I get hair pulled out of. You don’t look nearly stressed enough, why are you not worried about this situation with me?? Can you look at this thing on my back? What is that? I have no idea what you should make for dinner. Try this, think of a meal, get the ingredients for it and make it. Do you need a manual? I couldn’t imagine life without you baby. The men in our lives spend a lot of time trying to figure us gals out. They would love it if on the third date we handed them one of those little Lego...
The Geezerwed Years, The True Story of Marriage           

The Geezerwed Years, The True Story of Marriage           

I knew I would regret coming to this damned wedding. I am the Grandmother of the bride. It was nice of them to invite me, but everybody would have understood if I begged off due to my obvious decrepitude. I didn’t want to miss watching her get married for the second time though, and my husband hates to miss a free meal.  I do love her optimistic and slightly delusional white dress. Despite my reservations, she is family, so here we are. If I had known it was going to be this dull, however, I might have stayed home to watch Days of Our Lives. I look around at all the young guests and can’t help but wonder “How did I end up so bloody old and cranky?” Sitting in this spindly chair for over an hour of speeches and toasts is cruel and unusual punishment. My ass is pressing a stress fracture into my underwear because it refuses to stay in the place where the good lord put it. My bum is crawling down my legs, and my dress is as uncomfortable as shit and my bra has dry rice in it. Ah, weddings. Newlyweds are so cute aren’t they? So much taffeta and enthusiasm spilling all over the place. They can hardly contain their glee at living in a unit of two. Everyone tells them what a lovely couple they are. I have advice for them in my head: Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart. Ah crap. I’m looking across the table at the Old Fart I married 50 years ago and wonder if he knows he has mashed potato on his chin. I would tell him, but it is so much funnier to watch it gross out the kids. I observe him chatting with a teenager who can’t look away from the food wreckage on the old man’s face. I consider my husband for a moment and realize we have been married so long that we have now hit the Geezerwed years .  We are in the late-in-life period of marriage that nobody celebrates. They are those less glamourous years where you are simply busy being old together. Nobody buys you a new toaster or throws you a party for making it through your first hip operation– or menopause–without killing each other. Oh lord, the best man is finishing his speech on stage. That was a great story about how the groom got wasted last night after consuming a few Cosmopolitans too many. What sort of a man orders a girl drink like that anyway? Do young men come without nuts these days? It got me to thinking about my own wedding.  It has been many...
Money is Power in a Marriage

Money is Power in a Marriage

Money is power in a relationship. And the person who earns the most money, generally holds the balance of that power. Another reality is, the partner who elects to stay out of the workforce to be home with the children is usually the woman of the pair. This may be a generalization, but demographics bear me out on that one. I see lots of young women getting into the marriage and baby years, and they are not having those preliminary negotiations with their partners. It is alarming that many of them don’t consider that the money earner has the unspoken advantage. Their mothers knew it in the 60’s and 70’s and it is what made them break out of the home to embrace careers. We owe a debt to the women who were brave a long time before the current generation made our way through the maze of careers. They are the people who paved the road for our current vast selection of life choices. In the 1950’s to 1970’s they were simply expected to stay home. They didn’t even have to push out children, they could stay at home and do wife things (whatever those are). More importantly they were generally not welcomed in the workplace anyway. I watch Mad Men and it reminds me of working in a financial industry that looked a lot like that for real. I remember learning the hard way that the old boys club was really old, and very boy.  There isn’t a right or wrong choice to work or stay home when we raise a family. Our parents’ generation gave us the luxury of choice. But every time I hear women discuss the issue, they do so from the narrow-minded perspective of the here and now. Working or not we should really think ahead a little. We need to talk about the repercussions of the choice ten or twenty years down the line. Another challenge is that modern gals who have the bigger money job often don’t understand how to wield it properly and still do most of the chores and kid stuff anyway. Or if they stay home, they choose to be the lower earner, but then neglect to prepare for how much it tips the balance in their relationships. During the many discussions that bubble up around the issue of work outside the home, childcare, stay at home Motherhood, homeschooling and all the options, there is a huge gap that isn’t often acknowledged as important. Nobody talks about income. It is like this big scary drooler in the corner that we ignore and try not to notice. Before I talk about why money is important, I want to pull out and look at the...
No more bad boyfriends – date bald guys in loud shirts

No more bad boyfriends – date bald guys in loud shirts

Dating Advice, on the internet. What a novel idea! Thank you for setting aside all your jaded presuppositions by clicking on this.  I hope you find some helpful bits if you are struggling on the dating scene. This post isn’t an answer to a reader question, but it should be. I have a friend who chooses bad boyfriends, and I really want her to write in and ask me what she should do. She won’t, so I am just going to pretend she did. Stick with me ok? The question for those who have serial relationships that all turn sour is this: Why do I keep choosing guys who are evil and emotionally unavailable blah blah blah? Bitch Slap for ya: It is because your worst inner self is fed by being treated badly. This is not a complex issue, In fact the psychology degree I got in this morning’s cereal box gave me all the smarts I needed to observe this phenomenon. I bet the last three articles you read before landing here probably told you the same thing. Oh, and if you carry on reading other sites to see if you can get a different answer:  for $20 I will email an answer you want to hear instead. Because it is possible you are an idiot and would send me money to hear that bad boys can be changed and remade into nice guys. Bitch Slap number 2: They can’t be changed. Oh, and as they age they get meaner, uglier, and there will still be women out there who want to touch their pee pee, so they will cheat on you. So what do you do? Clearly you still have what it takes to get a man, you just have the wrong juju out there and are pulling assholes out of the random dude lottery. How about trying something new? Seek out a funny guy. Somebody who maybe doesn’t excite you with his Harley but remembers how you take your coffee and makes you laugh? People who are funny – and I mean really entertaining, usually have a significant amount of life experience on which to draw for their humour. This makes them interesting. Try dating a few funny dudes. Maybe for extra fun, get one that is bald, and wears Hawaiian shirts. Those guys don’t give a shit and are awesome fun at parties. They don’t need to be cool, they just want to be happy. And they usually want you to be happy too. If you find a funny guy who is legitimately single, doesn’t live in his parents’ basement, and has workable chemistry with you, give him a whirl. If you have a nice...
College Boys: No house MILF for you

College Boys: No house MILF for you

Apparently when little boys move away from home they still want to have a mom. Except now they want to be able to hump her in the kitchen while she makes them meatloaf. You think I made this up? No. I can’t imagine what Freud would have to say about this news story out of Vermont: UVM Students Seek House MILF. I can kind of picture how this came about. The lads were sitting around having the first ever beer they didn’t have to steal from Dad’s fridge bemoaning the fact that they are ten weenies living with no bun. How sad really… it must be terrible having to fend for yourself. So the boys decide they want a lady (over 25—but not too far over, I imagine) to cook for them. In payment for her work in the kitchen,  they would be sexually available to her. Wow… what a great deal! They must have had to go through a bazillion resumes. The sad truth is it’s very unlikely they would get a whole lot of interest from women in their target demographic. As a public service to the boys, I’m going to explain why. Boys, here is why you won’t get a house MILF: 1. If a woman wants ten guys in a weekend, she doesn’t usually need to cook for them. In fact, she can have dinner bought for her and none of you have enough money for such gestures. 2. Although you may admire your own incredible youth and virility, those of us who know better, will usually aim a little higher. At your age, you don’t actually have that much going on of interest. Maybe try not speaking. That would be sexy, baby. 3. Many of the ladies who have the luxury of shopping around for a boink don’t want to do it in your nasty college dorm room—the domain of the young and unhygienic. Ladies of substance prefer hotels and cabanas on the beach. Maybe if you serve us a drink in your thong? That might be OK. 4. Cooking for a bunch of unappreciative young people is likely the last thing a woman wants to do. Maybe that’s the scenario she just left. Just a thought for you, Spanky. 5. And the final reason you’re unlikely get a MILF is this:  a man of experience is more sexy. The number one downside named by cougars who shop in your age group is that you aren’t grateful enough. If you are under 23 and lucky enough to have a cougar catch your scent and call you lunch, be enthusiastic. I think posting the ad for your dream lady is pretty funny. Aren’t you cute? Enjoy your college...