then my husband is definitely from Pluto!
The infamous and definitive relationship guide written by John Gray dispells the myths that marriages can work successfully and harmoniously as long as communication works and is in the same language.
This is my version of why Men are from Mars and women are from venus and why men seem to have this amazing propensity to wind women up to cataclysmic rather than orgasmic heights!
My recent debacle on Monday night with my beloved compelled me to write my version on why I believe men are from another planet.
Here’s what happened on a recent Monday night!
After a long working day, picking up the children from School I look forward to Monday night’s because it is the only day we arrive home at 5PM, aka respectable time and it means there are only 4 days left of the working week or if you are a working mother like me then 6 days.
Big M my husband graciously does the weekly food shopping!
Yes, shock and horror I hear you say but he learned very early on in our relationship that if he wasn’t going to starve he would have to do it.
Instead of me complaining how hideously expensive everything is and that he never goes shopping, I get the groans about the cost of food items and I don’t suffer the “you never buy this or that” so it suits both parties.
The prospect of fighting my way through the supermarket in search of is not my idea of fun.
I prefer a tooth extraction than to be subjected to women fighting over who got there first, in fact I get heart palpitations at the thought of shopping.
I should point out he loves doing it, he calls it his downtime?
Anyway back to the Monday in question.
We’ve been sampling these rather marvellous pre-made meat puddings from Waitrose.
Something that for once doesn’t require me making, preparing or doing anything.
Cooking bliss just pop in the oven for 35 minutes serve with potatoes and veggies.
At 6PM I get a call from Big M, he’s on the Motorway travelling back from London. I ask him “would you like me to put your dinner on?”
“No” came back the response “I don’t know what the traffic is going to be like on the M1. If the pud takes takes 35 minutes then I can take a shower when I get in and not have to rush”.
Simply put don’t put dinner into the oven until I get in.
I hear a shout from upstairs from one of my children that Dad has arrived home. As I was in the throes of baking a cake in went the meat pudding.
And this is what happened next…
Big M : Hi everyone, how’s your day been, where’s my dinner? – the inference was with a slightly sarcastic tone as he walked into the kitchen.
This is how I interpret the above comment:
Typical, I’ve been working all day and you haven’t got my dinner yet?
Forget the fact I run a business, ferry the children back and forth to school, am responsible for their education, take them to their after school activities four times a week, remember who does what, when, where, cooks, washes, cleans, can’t claim ironing actually that one’s outsourced.
Provide emotional, physical and mental support to and in no particular order, children, husband, friends, co-workers, postman, milkman.
God I’m exhausted just writing this…
And the dinner wasn’t ready OMG call United Nations and sack me now as a wife mother and lover (last one debatable)
Me: Hi hun, dinner’s in the oven it will be another 30 minutes or so.
This is what I’m processing: you did tell me you complete a**e-h**e to wait to put the dinner on until you got home! Give me that bread knife now and don’t get any closer to me.. grrrr.
Big M: Great I come home from a long day and there’s no dinner. By the way what’s going with it.
Me: Nothing yet.
Now beginning to seethe with anger. Like he’s the only one that works around here and contributes to the greater good.
Big M: Great nice to know you care about me.
I’m thinking: Oh for god sake Mr “I am so emotionally dependent”, grow up.
Me: Thanks for that. How about peas?
Big M: What about Potatoes?
Me: Do you need potatoes? I thought you wanted to cut back on carbs aka waistline.
Big M: don’t appreciate the back handed comment, thanks a lot. Forget it I’ll get my own dinner sorted???
At this point I remain calm but in my head I’m screaming damned if I do damned if I don’t I try to look out for you and now I’m being criticised for referencing potatoes to your waistline. Next week you’ll be asking me to be strict with what you eat and drink, funny how the pendulum swings.
Clearly you’ve had a bad day! When have you ever gone without dinner and what’s got into you anyway. I’ve had a busy day too and if your not happy MOVE OUT.
We’ve gone from a peaceful and contented evening with kids upstairs doing homework to the potential outbreak of WW3 in my kitchen.
But then it goes from bad to worse because he says:
“What’s the matter with you why are you in a bad mood?
(Do I need semaphore to explain why I’m p****d off.)
All I asked is why dinner wasn’t ready… god do we have to repeat this again”.
And this is the cliff hanger because he then says:
“it must be the HRT tablets making you moody”.
Tell me why is that men have to reference how women react or behave to a set of pills we might be taking for an ailment or because we are MENOPAUSAL or, at that “special time of the month again”.
Funny because before Big M walked in I was feeling really rather happy!
Men we can’t live with them and we can’t live without them.
Until my next run in with Big M!