How NOT to Talk to Women

Originally posted two years ago on an old blog, I had to repost this one when it popped up in my Facebook memories today and made me laugh...

How NOT to Talk to Women

18.5 years of marriage warrants a few lessons learned, yes? My favorite color, how I don’t like cheese, my abhorrence for camping...random things. You might even believe 18.5 years brought an understanding, albeit small, of how NOT to talk to me. Let me explain.

Correct way: “Hey, would you mind throwing in a load of ______ for me?”

Incorrect way: “You planning to do laundry anytime soon?”

See the difference there? One expresses a need, asks in a non-condescending way, and isn't the least bit asinine. 

That brings us to the fodder for today’s lesson. Imagine, if you will, a three pound jar of rock sugar. This sugar is used exclusively for the over-priced loose leaf chai tea I order online (Seriously, it’s pretty fan-freaking-tastic). Imagine the jar, completely full, slipping from your grasp, catching the edge of the granite countertop, then slamming into your knee on the way down. Glass … EVERYWHERE … the precious rock sugar … EVERYWHERE … me standing in a pile of rock sugar littered with glass shards … me being sad. *sniff* 
Wes jumped up and said, “What happened? Are you okay?” THIS was an appropriate response. I would've later lavished him with praise had he JUST STOPPED RIGHT THERE!  But did he stop? No, he didn’t.

The next sentence went something like this, “You really shouldn’t use glass at all because you break things constantly.” 

Yep, that definitely negated the original two questions intimating concern and interest in my well-being. Gone. Nada. Zip. Open mouth, insert foot.
The next twenty minutes were spent explaining to this creature with the XY chromosomes why comforting someone does NOT, in fact, allow for statements of this nature. He made the mistake of asking the youngest child her opinion on the matter. THAT conversation went something like this:

Triumphantly, believing he will be victorious, he asks, “Katlyn, remember when you busted your eye open last year, and I came into school? Was I comforting?”

Katlyn, looking incredulous, says, “Um, NO! You told me that it looked like I was growing another eye, and that if we put a marble in it, I really would have a third eye.”

I’m afraid I was unable to contain my glee. I may have DID gloat a little. Fortunately, I think he’s cute, so I didn’t rub it in … too much.

Fast forward one week...

The Consequences For Lecturing Your Wife

Recall, if you will, the previous story involving the husband who wandered into the danger zone of How NOT To Talk To Women. To sum it up, broken jar, glass everywhere, precious rock sugar ruined, inability to drink wonderful chai… then husband with his foot in his mouth.

After the sad debacle in which I said goodbye to my rock sugar, and listened to my husband lecture me, I decided online therapy would heal my wounded soul. The sting from his unsympathetic judgment faded as I used his card to purchase the sugar along with more chai to make up the free shipping difference.

Thanks, Wesley … you should lecture me more often! I fancy some new shoes next!