Behind every good man...
I know nothing about women except for their lovely smell, so excuse me if I stumble through these compliments. It's truly one of the only things that I'm good at. Strangely, I don't accept them back very graciously. I'm just not very good believing them. Slap it on the list of things I suck at.
I don't know much about women, but I try. I pay attention. I do. Oddly, that's never enough. You're a confusing bunch, but a delightfully confusing bunch, and I'll linger in your lovely wake every time without complaint...not without curiosity, but without complaint.
Men on the other hand, well, men confuse me even more. I believe it started with my grandfathers, whose legacy of miscommunication and restrained love was inherited by my own father, who although more inclined to show affection, was just as effete when it came to building bridges and bringing clarity to typically muddy waters. I don't think any of those men understood women very well either. The difference is that they didn't make much of an effort to remedy the situation. I'd venture to say that historically my family has been full of definitively stereotypical men. I didn't understand a single intention of any one of them, and what's more none was ever explained.
Women confuse me but they're supposed to. Men confuse me but they shouldn't. So I stick to women, I'm drawn to their company as any good man should be, and perhaps because I'm married to what might be the best of them, or maybe because every woman from grandmother to mother to mother-in-law has filled me with faith and affection, I prefer the company of women on most occasions. Oh, there's nothing like a good friend and a lot of inhibition and beer on Opening Day, but I don't feel as understood, appreciated or unconcealed as I do with women.
Anyway...blah be blah blah. Now I've got a house full of estrogen and although at times I wish for just a whiff of more testosterone I love the feeling of being surrounded with girls...my wife, my daughter, my mother, and on occasion my mother-in-law...There is no lack of affection, no lack of openness, and no lack of acceptance and encouragement. There are only lovely smells (mostly...if you don't count poopy diapers), and delightfully confusing habits.
I don't know much about women, but I try. I pay attention. I do. Oddly, that's never enough. You're a confusing bunch, but a delightfully confusing bunch, and I'll linger in your lovely wake every time without complaint...not without curiosity, but without complaint.
Men on the other hand, well, men confuse me even more. I believe it started with my grandfathers, whose legacy of miscommunication and restrained love was inherited by my own father, who although more inclined to show affection, was just as effete when it came to building bridges and bringing clarity to typically muddy waters. I don't think any of those men understood women very well either. The difference is that they didn't make much of an effort to remedy the situation. I'd venture to say that historically my family has been full of definitively stereotypical men. I didn't understand a single intention of any one of them, and what's more none was ever explained.
Women confuse me but they're supposed to. Men confuse me but they shouldn't. So I stick to women, I'm drawn to their company as any good man should be, and perhaps because I'm married to what might be the best of them, or maybe because every woman from grandmother to mother to mother-in-law has filled me with faith and affection, I prefer the company of women on most occasions. Oh, there's nothing like a good friend and a lot of inhibition and beer on Opening Day, but I don't feel as understood, appreciated or unconcealed as I do with women.
Anyway...blah be blah blah. Now I've got a house full of estrogen and although at times I wish for just a whiff of more testosterone I love the feeling of being surrounded with girls...my wife, my daughter, my mother, and on occasion my mother-in-law...There is no lack of affection, no lack of openness, and no lack of acceptance and encouragement. There are only lovely smells (mostly...if you don't count poopy diapers), and delightfully confusing habits.
posted by Unknown at
8:52 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home