Me and the Boys

Posted by Christine

Let me tell you how it is with me. I live, alone, in a world of men.

Not a lot of men. There’s my husband, Hunky Mensa Man and our younger son, the J. There used to be our older son, Matt, as well. But as sons will do, Matt grew up and got married and now lives happily in Oregon with his bride, Jenny.

Even the cats, Tom and Ed, are male—well, yes, there was that little snip-snip thing that went on back when they were only kittens. But they’re still guys in their hearts and in their guy-cat perspectives. Trust me on that.

When you live in a world of men, there are certain…issues you’re likely to face. It’s all workable. One learns to survive—even thrive. I have. But there are certain challenges, certain battles you will always be fighting, certain differences in approach and perspective between you and the guys that you’re probably never going to totally get past.

Take the whole grooming issue. Trying to get pretty is…just not pretty, folks. When you live with a houseful of males—at least, my houseful of males—they can’t understand why you need to take so long in the bathroom primping and painting before you’ll leave the house. They tell you things like how beautiful you look without makeup. They even think they believe it. Hah. Well, okay, maybe the cats don’t care how I look. Maybe…

And then, well, what about my chick flicks, huh? I have a definite dearth of chick flicks in my life. I mean, there’s only so much time around here for movie-watching. And there must be compromise. Lucky thing I like Quentin Tarantino and Oliver Stone movies almost as much as I yearn to watch Stepmom and Failure to Launch. Now, I have noticed that certain chick flicks can be slid by even Hunky Mensa Man. If they’re really smart and funny. Anything Nora Ephron wrote, for instance. If Nora Ephron wrote it, we sometimes even watch it twice. But forget Hugh Grant movies. If it’s got Hugh Grant in it, HMM becomes very impatient. And he’s sworn to me that he will not watch another remake of Pride and Prejudice. I nod and promise, “Never again, honey. Never.” Mwahaha.

Am I complaining too much? Oh, probably. I must admit there’s something about the whole upper body strength thing men have that comes in trés handy at times. As well as a certain…fearlessness. HMM and the J are never so happy as when you give them a sledgehammer and tell them it’s time to bust through a wall. They do enjoy their power tools, as well. And they know how to use them. HMM is amazing at home improvement. He can bust that wall, install new sheetrock, texture it and then paint it—without taping it off first. We have some brickwork issues on the front of our house. He’s dealing with that himself, smiling all the while. “Hmm. Never done masonry before. This could interesting…”

I think I’ll stop now—not that I couldn’t go on for another ten pages. Overall, I do love my guys. They’re the best.

Got a good guy story? And I am so not discriminating here. A good gal story will do just as well.