The woman in your life will want to understand your "feelings". Now, when confronted with this, you will react in a number of possible ways.
1) You will laugh and say, "Yeah, and could you help me with my girdle, babe?"
2) You will be convulsed with a searing stomach pain and a cold sweat. Consumed by a sense of panic, you scan the room for exits and find none. You dash for the nearest wall, hoping you can smash through it to freedom, leaving one of those cartoon - y holes in the shape of your sprinting body.
3) You have an honest, open discussion of your feelings where you not only share, but listen to her with an open, empathetic ear. There will be weeping. And you'll wonder where you misplaced your penis.
The most important thing to understand is that you and your woman are speaking about entirely different things. She will want to know about "happy", "sad" or "Needing to shop" while you will be fixated upon "hungry", "thirsty" or "horny". The mistake that most couples make is treating this as if it was a solvable problem, that they should "communicate". That should be avoided at all costs. More relationships have been destroyed by unsuccessful communication than by infidelity.
The first step to addressing communication issues is to eliminate the practice of "talking about your feelings." This leads to confusion and resentment. It's been said, "Asking a man about his feelings is like asking a cow to dance." (All right, I just made up that quote. But then, technically, it's been said, right?)
We can't talk about our feelings. Don't expect us to. Actually, the problem is handled simply. When she asks about your feelings and there is no escape, confine your response to as few words as possible. "Mike, hungry", "Mike happy", "Mike sad."Tap your inner Hulk. No one has any question what they Incredible Hulk may be thinking. Keep it simple. You will be satisfied. And for her?
Tap your inner Carol Brady. You are supermom. He is a colicky newborn. You come across a crying newborn. He is desperate, miserable and can't communicate. So, to solve the problem, you go through a checklist of questions. Is he hungry? Sleepy? Does he have a poopy diaper? And you go through the solutions. You put him down for a nap, you hold him, you burp him, it depends on the problem. At the end of the day, sometimes, you just need to give him the boob.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
"It's a Bird, It"s a Plane, It's Passive Aggressive Man!!"
Like Clark Kent, like Bruce Wayne, like Peter Parker, I lived a double life. By day, I was Mike Martineau, mild mannered husband and father, writer for a great metropolitan television show.But in times of stress or conflict, I would change into my superhero alter - ego, "Passive Aggressive Man."
Now, Passive Aggressive Man was much like The Wolfman, or The Incredible Hulk in that my transformation was uncontrollable, like anger overwhelming David Banner and turning him nasty and green. Conflict or anger confronted me and I'd feel the transformation begin...My skin pigment would change. Not to a David Banner/Hulk, bright green, but a subtle fade from my swarthy tones to a more vampiric shade of pale. The cast of "Twilight" would have told me, "Dude, get some sun."
My brain began to slow. If tested at that moment, I'd flunk standard field sobriety tests. No walking straight lines or reciting the alphabet for me. State Capitals? My middle name? Not happening. I was not "Smarter Than a Fifth Grader". I wasn't smarter than a fetus.
So, the impulse to flee, to avoid conflict and problems arose. And suddenly, I was the Usain Bolt of conflict resolutions. There was my answer. Run away! (Best uttered in a high - pitched Monty - Pythonesque falsetto)
Now, every superhero has his kryptonite, and Passive - Aggressive Man is no exception. The key to foiling him is to think counter - intuitively. Your initial impulse in dealing with him will probably be responding with aggressive verbal confrontation or literally, a blunt object That will probably be very satisfying for you in the short term, as Passive - Aggressive Man has resorted to fleeing precisely because he has no response for confrontation. Once you defeat his avoiding techniques, he folds like a house of cards. And, if your choice involves an actual blunt object, you get that tasty added buzz of beating him like a rented mule. (Which has to be weighed carefully against the potential legal repercussions)
The problem is that it doesn't work. Ever. Part of Passive - Aggressive Man's power is in his restorative energy. Much like the earthworm, when Passive Aggressive Man is wounded, he has the ability to regenerate damaged or severed parts, both external and internal. Unfortunately, what he lacks is the ability to learn from the experience, since he believes so completely in his ability to avoid conflict,
Passive Aggressive Man is a potent foe which is why he needs to be handled delicately. Consider this scenario: You have repeatedly asked Passive Aggressive Man to make an appointment for a long overdue medical procedure for him. He has not yet done so, responding that he will do it "tomorrow", "next week" or worst of all, the dreaded, "soon". How do you handle this? Can you?
The first thing to do is to convince Passive Aggressive Man is to use his powers for good, not evil. If he enjoys comic books, buy him some and if you have a knack for sewing, make him a superhero costume. If you compose music, write him a fanfare that can be played whenever he walks into a room. Make sure the piece is heavy on the brass and if there is a vocal involved, something in the vein of the light opera composition of the old "Mighty Mouse" cartoons.."Here I Come to Save The Day...Mighty Mouse is On His Way!"
Okay, that's a terrible idea, Costumes are never the solution and studies have proven that light opera doesn't deter evildoers. What to do with Passive Aggressive Man? There are many theories. Perhaps it's best to take your cue from Passive - Aggressive Man himself, and his call to action.
"In times of trouble, it's time to say, pack my stuff and run away!!"
The music swells as he ducks into a phone booth and comes out clad in the mask, boots, cape and costume of Passive - Aggressive Man. He leaps into the air and flies off into the dark Metropolis night.
Now, Passive Aggressive Man was much like The Wolfman, or The Incredible Hulk in that my transformation was uncontrollable, like anger overwhelming David Banner and turning him nasty and green. Conflict or anger confronted me and I'd feel the transformation begin...My skin pigment would change. Not to a David Banner/Hulk, bright green, but a subtle fade from my swarthy tones to a more vampiric shade of pale. The cast of "Twilight" would have told me, "Dude, get some sun."
My brain began to slow. If tested at that moment, I'd flunk standard field sobriety tests. No walking straight lines or reciting the alphabet for me. State Capitals? My middle name? Not happening. I was not "Smarter Than a Fifth Grader". I wasn't smarter than a fetus.
So, the impulse to flee, to avoid conflict and problems arose. And suddenly, I was the Usain Bolt of conflict resolutions. There was my answer. Run away! (Best uttered in a high - pitched Monty - Pythonesque falsetto)
Now, every superhero has his kryptonite, and Passive - Aggressive Man is no exception. The key to foiling him is to think counter - intuitively. Your initial impulse in dealing with him will probably be responding with aggressive verbal confrontation or literally, a blunt object That will probably be very satisfying for you in the short term, as Passive - Aggressive Man has resorted to fleeing precisely because he has no response for confrontation. Once you defeat his avoiding techniques, he folds like a house of cards. And, if your choice involves an actual blunt object, you get that tasty added buzz of beating him like a rented mule. (Which has to be weighed carefully against the potential legal repercussions)
The problem is that it doesn't work. Ever. Part of Passive - Aggressive Man's power is in his restorative energy. Much like the earthworm, when Passive Aggressive Man is wounded, he has the ability to regenerate damaged or severed parts, both external and internal. Unfortunately, what he lacks is the ability to learn from the experience, since he believes so completely in his ability to avoid conflict,
Passive Aggressive Man is a potent foe which is why he needs to be handled delicately. Consider this scenario: You have repeatedly asked Passive Aggressive Man to make an appointment for a long overdue medical procedure for him. He has not yet done so, responding that he will do it "tomorrow", "next week" or worst of all, the dreaded, "soon". How do you handle this? Can you?
The first thing to do is to convince Passive Aggressive Man is to use his powers for good, not evil. If he enjoys comic books, buy him some and if you have a knack for sewing, make him a superhero costume. If you compose music, write him a fanfare that can be played whenever he walks into a room. Make sure the piece is heavy on the brass and if there is a vocal involved, something in the vein of the light opera composition of the old "Mighty Mouse" cartoons.."Here I Come to Save The Day...Mighty Mouse is On His Way!"
Okay, that's a terrible idea, Costumes are never the solution and studies have proven that light opera doesn't deter evildoers. What to do with Passive Aggressive Man? There are many theories. Perhaps it's best to take your cue from Passive - Aggressive Man himself, and his call to action.
"In times of trouble, it's time to say, pack my stuff and run away!!"
The music swells as he ducks into a phone booth and comes out clad in the mask, boots, cape and costume of Passive - Aggressive Man. He leaps into the air and flies off into the dark Metropolis night.
Friday, March 5, 2010
I Did It (And so will you)
You will drive the woman in your life crazy. You will have weeks, days, months, years of bliss together and one day you will look across the breakfast table at her in the middle of some mystifying argument the two of you are having and see the look in her eye of a disgruntled postal worker, loading her AK 47 on her "last" day on the job. Another day, you will listen to her rant in a language you know is English and somehow still don't understand. You will find yourself walking on eggshells. You suddenly become a member of the squad of "The Hurt Locker" expecting every step to uncover a potentially fatal mine.
It has happened. The shoe has dropped. She is now, crazy.
Now, you know that people just don't "go crazy" the way they suddenly catch a cold. She had help getting there. And whether you understand how or why, you were in the driver's seat. You ignored the directions being emphatically suggested to you from the passenger side. You turned a deaf ear to the gentle suggestions coming from your G.P.S. system, guiding you to your destination. Fuck it, you know the way. You floored the gas and headed for Crazytown.
Now, you probably didn't know you were doing this, In all likelihood, you are not an evil, sadistic, sociopath. You are simply guilty of being one of the most emotionally destructive beings on the planet. You're a guy. And, to make the equation even more volatile, she is a woman. Other than the biological imperatives involved, you are fundamentally mismatched with your female counterparts.
Think of it this way. The woman in your life has ventured into the woods, bare armed, not having packed her bug repellent. You are a mosquito, hungry, cruising the forest, looking for a patch of skin to land upon and feast. You're doing what mosquitoes do. You sting, sucking as much blood from the wound as you can carry, You fly off, sated, but you have infected her with "Relationship Insanity Disorder".
Now, R.I. D. is not uncommon. The U.S. is filled with remarkable, smart, passionate, interesting woman afflicted with the disorder, which cannot be treated medically. (Although I have had some success masking the symptoms with a combination of Heineken and high end tequila...OK, masking them from me.)
But, when all was said and done, she was an intelligent, funny, sexy woman and after two decades of marriage, I drove her crazy. As they say on those TV court shows, "The facts are not in dispute." At some point the deeds, reactions and responses accumulated to a critical mass and like a Toyota with a stuck accelerator pad, she began to malfunction. Now the reasons for this could easily have been chalked up to cramps, or other medical issues entirely out of my control. I could write it off and mumble to myself, "God, she's such a bitch", as I turned up the volume on "Sportscenter".
Her thinking became increasingly paranoid and irrational. Conspiracies were everywhere. She was Bogart in "The Caine Mutiny Court Marshall" wanting to know who took her strawberries, She made Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction"look like, well, Glenn Close in something funny and sweet. She was another actress from a movie much more current that either of the first two. (Maybe Ellen Page in that movie where she captured and castrated that guy who sexually assaulted that girl...Ok, maybe I was the only one who saw that.)
She developed otherworldly skills as well. We process anger very differently. I cannot handle conflict. When I get angry, I tend to respond with the speed and acuity of someone just struck in the head with a shovel. Slow, unintelligible grunts and there is often drooling and tears. I am a very unsatisfying opponent in an argument.
She handles her anger very differently. Imagine the Terminator from the original film, staring down the prey as we see it on a computer monitor. Data scrolls across the screen.
QUERY: DID YOU MAKE A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT TODAY?
RESPONSE: OH, I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT TOMORROW...
PROCRASTINATION ALERT!! PROCRASTINATION ALERT!! PROCRASTINATION ALERT!!
(An alarm goes off)
A series of responses scroll across the screen, each more withering than the last. A cursor highlights on one of the responses.
RESPONSE SELECTED.
DEPLOYMENT IN 5, 4, 3, 2, ...1...
RESPONSE DEPLOYED.
We see the target crumple as if hit.
TARGET STRUCK.
The target buries his head in his hands.
TARGET DISABLED.
The whole process takes at it's slowest, seconds....and then, more drooling.
Now, when the relationship finally ended, I had two choices. Flee like a baby deer, or figure out how we got here. Maybe I can offer some solutions that will steer you away from Crazytown. You can benefit from my mistakes. Or maybe I can give you a few minutes of entertainment before the boss comes by your cubicle.
Read on, my friends....
It has happened. The shoe has dropped. She is now, crazy.
Now, you know that people just don't "go crazy" the way they suddenly catch a cold. She had help getting there. And whether you understand how or why, you were in the driver's seat. You ignored the directions being emphatically suggested to you from the passenger side. You turned a deaf ear to the gentle suggestions coming from your G.P.S. system, guiding you to your destination. Fuck it, you know the way. You floored the gas and headed for Crazytown.
Now, you probably didn't know you were doing this, In all likelihood, you are not an evil, sadistic, sociopath. You are simply guilty of being one of the most emotionally destructive beings on the planet. You're a guy. And, to make the equation even more volatile, she is a woman. Other than the biological imperatives involved, you are fundamentally mismatched with your female counterparts.
Think of it this way. The woman in your life has ventured into the woods, bare armed, not having packed her bug repellent. You are a mosquito, hungry, cruising the forest, looking for a patch of skin to land upon and feast. You're doing what mosquitoes do. You sting, sucking as much blood from the wound as you can carry, You fly off, sated, but you have infected her with "Relationship Insanity Disorder".
Now, R.I. D. is not uncommon. The U.S. is filled with remarkable, smart, passionate, interesting woman afflicted with the disorder, which cannot be treated medically. (Although I have had some success masking the symptoms with a combination of Heineken and high end tequila...OK, masking them from me.)
But, when all was said and done, she was an intelligent, funny, sexy woman and after two decades of marriage, I drove her crazy. As they say on those TV court shows, "The facts are not in dispute." At some point the deeds, reactions and responses accumulated to a critical mass and like a Toyota with a stuck accelerator pad, she began to malfunction. Now the reasons for this could easily have been chalked up to cramps, or other medical issues entirely out of my control. I could write it off and mumble to myself, "God, she's such a bitch", as I turned up the volume on "Sportscenter".
Her thinking became increasingly paranoid and irrational. Conspiracies were everywhere. She was Bogart in "The Caine Mutiny Court Marshall" wanting to know who took her strawberries, She made Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction"look like, well, Glenn Close in something funny and sweet. She was another actress from a movie much more current that either of the first two. (Maybe Ellen Page in that movie where she captured and castrated that guy who sexually assaulted that girl...Ok, maybe I was the only one who saw that.)
She developed otherworldly skills as well. We process anger very differently. I cannot handle conflict. When I get angry, I tend to respond with the speed and acuity of someone just struck in the head with a shovel. Slow, unintelligible grunts and there is often drooling and tears. I am a very unsatisfying opponent in an argument.
She handles her anger very differently. Imagine the Terminator from the original film, staring down the prey as we see it on a computer monitor. Data scrolls across the screen.
QUERY: DID YOU MAKE A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT TODAY?
RESPONSE: OH, I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT TOMORROW...
PROCRASTINATION ALERT!! PROCRASTINATION ALERT!! PROCRASTINATION ALERT!!
(An alarm goes off)
A series of responses scroll across the screen, each more withering than the last. A cursor highlights on one of the responses.
RESPONSE SELECTED.
DEPLOYMENT IN 5, 4, 3, 2, ...1...
RESPONSE DEPLOYED.
We see the target crumple as if hit.
TARGET STRUCK.
The target buries his head in his hands.
TARGET DISABLED.
The whole process takes at it's slowest, seconds....and then, more drooling.
Now, when the relationship finally ended, I had two choices. Flee like a baby deer, or figure out how we got here. Maybe I can offer some solutions that will steer you away from Crazytown. You can benefit from my mistakes. Or maybe I can give you a few minutes of entertainment before the boss comes by your cubicle.
Read on, my friends....
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