August 06, 2010

The Venus thing

Yes, I’ve been quiet for some time.

No, it’s not because I have nothing to say – I always have something to say, according to Judogirl , and that’s the point!

But what I have to say this time is very much like looking for a landmine with eyes shut, fingers in ears, and one foot softly tapping the ground ahead… tricky. I have therefore taken my time about it – I believe it prudent.

And in saying what I have to say, I believe I have achieved insight into what a suicide bomber goes through when he takes that all-important, career altering step.

In my case I take my life into my hands in an effort to shed a muted light on a situation or relation that started on the sixth day. No, nothing metaphorical in that – the actual sixth day – ever! The Big Book says that Eden was paradise. Mysteriously the parentheses “for the first five days” were omitted on that fateful day when ink was first put to papyrus (at the insistence of the scribe’s wife).

And why do I do this? I have absolutely no idea. Call me selfless.

I believe the thought crossed my mind on a golf course. I noticed a younger couple trudging along behind our group, deeply imbedded in what I refer to as the “good ol’ days” phase of their relationship. This is the only phase where she (for all intent and purpose let’s call her Eve) will readily and enthusiastically accompany him (Adam, for obvious reasons) as he hacks his way around the course. He tries to impress, explaining his approach to every shot, and expertly reasoning why it didn’t work. She lavishes praise and understanding, whatever the outcome. Both of them still secretly fart upwind from the other (the “you again!” phase is but a malicious rumor to them). It was evident that Adam and Eve’s liaison was strong and steady as a Viking longboat: she was even carrying his clubs!

Ah, the good ol’ days… at this exact stage in our relationship, Judogirl split my lip with an eight iron!

It was however not so much the display on the course that brought me to my task at hand, but a remark Adam very bravely and audibly uttered amongst other living souls in the sanctuary that is the 19th Hole. Men everywhere are in awe of another male’s supernatural ability to have his mate accompany him on a round – more so when she voluntarily takes up the bag, and giggles. So when an older version of Adam mustered the courage to enquire about our Adam’s powers, he smiled innocently and responded: “I understand women.”

At this point most men will go “Aye, the poor bastard!” Women everywhere will go “I don’t get it…”

And exactly here is where I, in a literary sense, become Aghmed (the suicide guy).

Not because I’m going to explain where Adam (and all the poor Adams out there) went wrong, but why Adam (and all the poor Adams out there) doesn’t stand a chance. *

*Author’s note: all opinions, references, phrases, incidents and comments are that of the author ALONE. It is possible that your husband/boyfriend does not share this global view. Therefore please do not compare, discuss, mentally torture, or physically withhold anything due to this scribble.

Adam’s still young – there’s lots of time for him to realize just how wrong he was. If Eve never finds out what he said, he’ll become a man one day. And men everywhere enjoy a good challenge. Nature and instinct (i.e. facial hair) will become part of his existence and he’ll inadvertently take on the greatest challenge of all: the impossible one. The one that history, to date, has failed to record. The one no man was ever designed to contend with… the one where Adam understands Eve.

And how could he? For instance: *

*Author’s second note: Dear Judogirl, the following content is purely fictional and meant to assist others. Should any of the incidents or remarks resemble moments reminiscent of our lives, it is purely coincidental – really!

“Fruitloops, please hand me my sunglasses.”
“Which pair Sweetcheeks?” Judogirl has two – one sporty set with funky motives on the little arms, the other a fancy-schmancy windscreen sized polarized do with rosy lenses and a handy cloth for cleaning.
“Any pair will do thanks, it doesn’t really matter.”
Obviously, I hand her the one with the cloth thingy as she’ll be able to clean the visor, it will suit her outfit, the sun isn’t all that bright, and I think she looks great with it…
“No, not that one.”

Or I get the following… one could get the following:
The wee man’s taking his bath. He’s splashing away like a tiny happy hippo and Mom pipes up from the bathroom floor “Dad, please bring him a spoon he can play with in the bath!”
“What type of spoon?”
“Any type – just a spoon! He likes to mix the water.”
So Dad finds a big spoon – a small paddle rather – with a really cool handle. Wee man’s gonna churn some gallons with this thing!
“What’s he going to do with that? It’s a metal spoon – he needs to play with it in the bath. Sjeesh!”
So what – he’s gonna rust? (of course Dad doesn’t say that out loud – that would be silly). He trudges back to the kitchen to find the most basic wooden spoon of the 12 different wooden spoons neatly stowed (hidden) in various places in the kitchen. Dad doesn’t think we need 12 different wooden spoons – he doesn’t even know what to do with more than half of them. For this letter however, see the first wooden spoon that comes to mind when I say “wooden spoon”: that’s the one he gets. It can float.
“No, not a wooden spoon. Jeepers, are all men this stupid? The plastic spoon in the second drawer!”
Dad thinks three things, none of which he utters – it’s a honed preservation mechanism:
1 – second drawer from top, or bottom?
2 – why didn’t you just say so in the first place?
3 – Eden was paradise… for the first five days.

“I think I need a new car – this one has absolutely no power.”
“Don’t you think it might be because you’re trying to pull away in 2nd gear?”
“So? Cars are supposed to do that!”
Why then, in modern times, do they continue to build cars with a 1st gear, I wonder. I’m too clever to actually say that though.

However, let’s give credit where credit is due. At times, if we’ve been particularly good or innovative, we are fortunate and are afforded the luxury of partaking in the decision making process:
“This was a good idea Knock-knees. It’s such a lovely day for a walk along the sea.”
“It is, isn’t it Honey-Bunny? So which way would you like to go: left towards the beach, or right towards those rock pools?”
“You choose, it really doesn’t matter to me – it’s just so lovely to be out.”
“OK babes, let’s go this way…”
“No, I don’t want to go that way. Let’s go the other way.”
“OK,” is what he says, although in his mind it sounds completely different. He’s not going to argue – she’s pregnant.

And at the shop:
“I’m looking for the yellow box with the baby on it… can you see it?”
“No, sorry babes. No yellow box with a baby on it.”
“Sjeesh, there it is – right in front of you!”
“That box is blue dear.”

Adam doesn’t understand women.

Nobody understands women.

So for Adam’s sake I have taken my life in my hands. I have endeavored to assist. For Adam’s benefit I have taken my time, mulled over, dwelled on, thought about and pondered. I have ruminated, contemplated and deliberated, and finally summarized, condensed… nay, encapsulated – in a word – what women are to me:

Extraordinary! *

*Author’s final note (and he’s hoping there’s nothing prophetic in that): Because this can go any way and I can in no way be certain how women would react to my ruminations, please consider that I didn’t say “Women are special – like Belgium truffle chocolate with dustings of Swiss cocoa, only better, much better”. Nono, I didn’t do that – that would be like sanctioned suicide. I also didn’t say “Women are amazing beyond the comprehension of the universe and the meaning of life” because that’s just silly – too much room for interpretation. I kept it short, sweet – succinct. It’s safer that way. Adam would do well to remember that – and just that.

It’s a good thing we don’t understand our women – a very fortunate thing. Because the day you understand your woman is the day you get hit by a bus!