What Men Mean

Firstly, I would like to apologise for my absence. I have a lot of family problems at the moment - more than those I mentioned a couple of posts ago, unfortunately. I have been too preoccupied to comment and too distracted to put a post together, so I hope you will excuse me. Anyway........

There just had to be a follow up to 'Shock Poll Reveals What Women Mean' didn't there? Women are not alone in saying one thing, when they may mean another. Men can often be guilty of the same sort of thing. I've compiled a list of the most common things a man might say, in bold, along with what he might mean in italics. This post is tongue-in-cheek. Please don't take it too seriously. I won't be held responsible for any divorce proceedings instigated as a result of reading this post. ;0)

Before Marriage:

Would you like to go for a drink after work? I think you're really hot and I want to have sex with you, as soon as you'll agree to it.

Do you want to stay at my place this weekend? Do you want to bonk me stupid this weekend?

Shall we go on holiday together this year? Do you want to bonk me stupid for a fortnight?

Will you marry me? Will you have regular sex with me, until I get fed up of you and find someone younger?

After marriage:

Is your headache better darling? Are you well enough to have sex, yet?

Do you want any help in the kitchen? If I help in the kitchen, can we have sex later?

Let's have a cuddle. Let's have sex.

Of course I'm listening. I haven't been listening.

No I'm not lost. I'm lost.

You're wrong. It's essential that I'm right, so you must be wrong.

I can do it. I can't do it, but I would rather not do it than let you show/tell me how to do it.

All the men at work fancy Lisa. All the men at work fancy Lisa, including me.

I could give up drinking if I wanted to. I can't get through the day without alcohol.

It's far too hot in this room. Aren't you hot? It's too hot in this room. If you're not hot, there's something wrong with you. There couldn't possibly be anything wrong with me.

I've cut the grass. It's spring and I've cut the grass, so that's my bit of gardening done until the autumn, when I'll cut it once more. If you think it needs cutting in between, you'll have to do it yourself.

I haven't got time to finish this job in the house today. I'll do the rest next week. I'm never going to finish this job. If you want it finished, you'll have to do it, or get someone in.

Do you think that this DIY job looks OK? I know that this DIY job looks awful, but will you let me off the hook, because I can't be bothered to do it any better?

Yes, that dress looks great! That dress doesn't look too good on you, but I hate shopping and I want to get home in time to watch the rugby on tv.

There's nothing wrong with a man hiring a Harley Davidson at the age of 58, when he hasn't been on a motorbike for 33 years. Help! I'm having a midlife crisis.

Have you seen my car keys/screwdriver/mobile/wallet/brain? You've tidied away my car keys/screwdriver/mobile/wallet/brain. It's lost forever, my life is in ruins and it's all your fault.

I would like to point out that this information has been gathered from other women's experiences, or from my own experiences in previous (failed!) relationships. My own dearest darling husband is, of course, guilty of none of the above. Well, maybe just the odd one here and there .........

Anything you'd like to add from your own observations?

Shock Poll Reveals What Women Mean!

An exclusive poll, conducted by Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom, based on telephone interviews with a remarkably small number of female adults, recently uncovered some shocking facts. Apparently, a tiny minority of women don't necessarily say what they mean in certain situations, when conversing with their partners! A teensy weensy number of the women polled even admitted to neglecting to mention niggling little details, which they considered unimportant and less than one woman openly admitted to the odd white lie!

The reasons behind this sort of behaviour varied considerably, in accordance with the woman's mood, the poll revealed, but included such things as a desire to appear virtuous, or to help her husband become more considerate, a reluctance to upset her partner, or a wish to avoid conflict. Below, in bold, are a few examples, gleaned from the poll, of the sort of things women might say, in some situations, which could have hidden meaning and a few light hearted suggestions of what they could mean in italics.

Going Out:

I'm nearly ready! I'm nowhere near ready.

I'm not ready yet. It's obvious that I'm not ready, yet, because I'm still drying my hair. Sitting in the car, on the drive, with the engine running won't make my hair dry any faster.

Would you check the doors and windows, before we go out, please? If you're sitting twiddling your thumbs and I'm obviously not yet ready to go out, why don't YOU check the doors and windows, instead of leaving it to me.

Shopping:

I'm just going into Accessorize to buy a pretty scarf for your sister, for her birthday. I'm just going into Accessorize to buy a pretty scarf for your sister, for her birthday and 2 for myself, whilst I'm there.

Don't buy that for me, for my birthday. It's far too expensive. I'll be absolutely thrilled if you buy that for me, for my birthday, in spite of the fact that it's so expensive.

I like both outfits. I can't decide which to have. Could we fast for a week, so that I could buy both of these outfits?

At Home:

Would you mash the potatoes, please? Don't stand doing nothing, in the kitchen, whilst I am running around like a blue arsed fly, trying to do 3 things at the same time.

Would you take the garden rubbish to the tip, please? It's supposed to be your responsibility to take the rubbish to the tip. It's been sitting there for about 4 weeks and it's starting to smell. You can see it and you can smell it as well as I can, so why do I have to nag, before you will do something about it?

It's OK, thanks, I can plug the lawnmower in. It's supposed to be your responsibility to cut the grass, whilst I look after the rest of the garden. If I decide that I ought to cut the grass, because you've not done it for 3 weeks, don't plug the lawnmower in for me. It's infuriating. If you do it again, I shall make you swallow the plug.

Can I have a glass of wine, now, please? When I said, half an hour ago, that I didn't want any wine, I didn't mean that you could instantly knock back the whole bottle, without pausing for breath.

No, I'm not blogging again. I'm just checking my emails. I was blogging, until you interrupted me. Now, I'm checking my emails.

Unavoidable Conflict:

There's nothing wrong. There's something wrong. I can't discuss it with you, yet, because I'm still simmering, but, believe me, I will discuss it, when I come to the boil.

I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry I said that out loud.

It's OK. I know you didn't mean it, when you said that I was an ugly old cow. I'm having a headache, later, so don't bother suggesting any hanky panky. I haven't decided how long it will last, yet.

I forgive you. I'll remember what you did and bring it up in every argument, from now until dementia sets in.

Extra Marital:

Why are you so late home from work all the time? Are you having an affair?

No, I don't mind in the least if you go to watch the match, on Saturday and spend all day Sunday playing golf. I'm having an affair.

Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom would be interested in hearing from anyone, who has had first hand experience of such unscrupulous women. Perhaps your sister, or best friend suffers from such tendencies. Please leave a comment. Mean Mom would like to know.

Male readers please note: In no event will Mean Moody Middle-aged Mom be liable for any arguments or injuries arising, or divorce proceedings instigated, either directly or indirectly as a result of belief in the content of this post.

The Shirt With The Hole

'What can we get you for your birthday, then, dad?' enquired eldest son, as we enjoyed an early, celebratory meal in a nearby pub' restaurant.

'Just a card,' replied my husband. 'I know that you haven't got much spare cash, at the moment and I don't want you to waste your money on me.'

'We will get you something, though,' said eldest son's girlfriend, 'so you might as well tell us what you'd like.'

I took advantage of the short pause in the conversation and said to my eldest son, with a wicked smile, 'Your father needs a polo shirt, without a hole in it.' My husband tutted and looked visibly annoyed for a few seconds. I wasn't surprised at my sons' subsequent reactions, as the men in my family have a habit of sticking together.

'Oh, don't tell me! Has dad been going out looking less than perfect?' said my eldest son with mock exaggeration.

'Oh, no!' joined in youngest son. 'Has dad been going out with holes in his clothes? Shock, horror!'

They laughed and I laughed, but I continued with mock haughtiness, as soon as they had quietened down, 'I never go out with holes in my clothes. I have standards. I expect the same from your father!' We all laughed once more and the conversation moved on.

I don't mind them teasing me, but there is no basis for it, because I've never been in the habit of telling my husband what to wear. In the 32 years since our marriage, in spite of having to bite my lip, on several occasions, I've only criticised the clothes that my husband has decided to wear on 2 recent occasions.

My husband has never taken much interest in clothes, but he has always found short sleeved polo shirts particularly comfortable to wear and has been an avid collector since about 1976. They are his most favoured garment. He buys new ones, but he never throws an old one away. He will wear the same polo shirt to go out, as he wore a couple of weeks before, to cut the hedge and dig the garden. Joseph's amazing old technicolour dreamcoat could have been inspired by the myriad of colours in his collection and, if I laid them end to end, they would probably go twice around the earth's circumference. 2 of them have been the proud recipients of a telegram from the Queen.

It doesn't matter if they are faded, shrunken and stiff from age, or misshapen, they remain as beautiful to him, as the day he first set eyes on them. I sometimes wonder whether it is the same soft focus vision, which has stopped him swapping me for a younger model. I may give my own optician the boot and start visiting his.

A few months ago, my husband and I were going out for the day and I noticed that the polo shirt he was wearing had a small hole in it. When I pointed it out, he looked irritated, but went off to change it. The next time he did the same thing, I didn't say anything, as we were only going to the shops, but, after that occasion, I stopped ironing his very old polo shirts, in the hope that it would persuade him to keep them for working around the house.

The next time I noticed him donning one of his old, creased polo shirts, I pointed out that I was no longer ironing those particular shirts, because they were too scruffy and I suggested that he should buy a couple of new ones to keep solely for going out. After the conversation in the pub' a couple of nights ago, I'm relieved to say that he has finally taken the hint and we are going polo shirt shopping at the weekend! Yay! We know how to live!

I don't care how much I am teased about my attitude, I won't be changing my opinion. I don't have many clothes, these days and I am often to be found in jeans, but my clothes are always ironed, clean and respectable. I wear old clothes around the house and for gardening etc, but I keep some decent clothes for going out. I never look scruffy, when I go out with my husband and I expect the same standards from him.

What about you? What's your opinion? Do you think that I've made too much fuss about a hole in a shirt? Would you object if your husband wanted to go out with holes in his clothes, where it wasn't fashionable to have them? Do you try to look smart, when going out, or do you not think it's so important, nowadays?

Woman Management.

I have recently had an animated discussion, with a certain someone, about inappropriate behaviour in the workplace and the responsibilities of a good manager. I spent most of my working life in the Civil Service, where there was a strict code of conduct and most of the behaviour outlined below would not have been tolerated. Ego massaging, for the sad, manopausal middle-aged man would have been allowed, as in question 4, but no favours would have been granted as a result of it!

Anyway, I've been persuaded that I need to 'loosen up'! I suppose I'm just an old fashioned woman! I'm not going into all of the gory details, but the quiz I have devised, below, may give you a light-hearted insight into some of the discrepancies.

DO YOU HAVE MANAGEMENT POTENTIAL?

A good manager needs to take his responsibilities very seriously. He needs to ensure that his department is productive and runs efficiently. He needs excellent interpersonal skills. He has to set standards and live up to them, showing others how to do the same.

Do you think you might have what it takes? A male manager, supervising female staff, needs to observe a strict code of conduct at all times. Work through our short quiz, which concentrates on a few of the problems he might face, and make a note of which option you find the most appropriate course of action, for each scenario. The questions are based on real life situations.

1. Your new assistant is working through her probationary period. She insists on fetching your newspaper, each day, from the newsagents and buying you a chocolate bar, out of her own money. What would you consider to be the most suitable course of action? Would you

a) thank her for her kindness, but say that you will be picking up your own newspaper, in your lunch break, from now on and that the chocolate bar was a kind thought, but unnecessary, or

b) wait until you have put on 4 lbs, then tell her that she can continue to pick up your newspaper, but that she needn't bother with the chocolate, from now on, or

c) ask her if, while she's picking up your newspaper and buying your chocolate bar, from the shop, could she also buy you a cheese sandwich, a can of beer and a copy of Nuts magazine, and you'll give her the money on payday?

2. Your new, young, female assistant invites you to check out the new underwear she is ordering out of a catalogue. Should you

a) tell her that, as her 57 year old manager, it is inappropriate for you to be aware of what your 20 year old assistant is intending to wear under her skirt and her top, or

b) pour over the pictures and inform the rest of the company, at the earliest opportunity, that you have been looking at your female assistant's underwear, or

c) take your Ann Summers catalogue out of the bottom drawer of your desk and point out that you favour the peephole bra on page 57, in black, and the crotchless panties, on page 64, in red, and ask how she would like you to pay?

3. Your young assistant has bought a new dress and failed to try it on, in the shop. If it doesn't fit, she needs to exchange it today, after work and she won't have much time to get to the shop before it closes. She wants to try the dress on, in working hours, behind the cupboard door, in the office which you share with her. She has not indicated that she expects you to leave the room. Should you

a) tell her that she should have tried on the dress in her own time, but, if it's really important, you will allow her 10 minutes to try the dress on, in the ladies toilet, as long as it never, ever, happens again, or

b) allow her to do as she wishes and remain in the office, as she offers no objection, giving no thought to the fact that the owner of the company calls in regularly, as his office is next door, or to the fact that your young assistant is so overweight that no cupboard door could ever hide her, as you are convinced that there could be no chance of the situation being misconstrued, or

c) tell her that she may try the dress on in the office, in your presence, that there is no need to struggle to hide behind the cupboard door, as long as she will allow you to take a few photos on your mobile to show to your mates in the pub', later?

4. You are having a mid-life crisis and you are depressed by your latest passport photo'. You thrust it under the noses of your 2 young female assistants, seeking reassurance and bemoaning the fact that you look so much older in the latest one. When the 2 young girls inform you that they prefer an older man, with flecks of grey in his hair and a pot belly, do you

a) wonder whether the youngest is pulling out all of the stops to get through her probationary period, whilst the other is softening you up, so that you'll agree to her having a half-day's holiday on Friday afternoon, and resolve to be influenced by neither, or do you

b) run home and inform your wife that your 2 young assistants still think you are hot, even though you are old enough to be their grandfather, or

c) ask if you could make up a threesome, at a cheap hotel in Bognor, during the first weekend in August?

5. You share a small office, with your 2 young, female assistants. They spend a certain amount of time discussing the intimate details of their private lives, in your presence, in office hours. During the course of their current, rather long, conversation, your youngest assistant complains about her lack of boyfriends and the fact that, whenever she has her period, blood keeps leaking onto her knickers, so that she constantly has to carry a spare pair. Do you

a) inform the girls that there's 'too much information' reaching your corner of the office and request that they get on with some work, or

b) pretend that you can't hear and allow them to continue, until they run out of conversation, or

c) pull up a chair and join in their discussion, offering helpful advice, such as suggesting that your youngest assistant loses some weight, offers oral sex on the first date, and tries those new sanitary towels with wings?

6. Human Resources are unsure whether to offer your new assistant a permanent position. They are very concerned about the number of days absence she has had from work, due to illness. Do you

a) suggest that her probationary period is extended, or

b) insist that she is given the permanent position, because you believed her when she said that she was ill, even though the validity of the illness has never been the concern, or

c) gaze into the middle distance, thinking about the long walk to the newsagent, the money you've invested in her underwear, the provacative photos' on your mobile, the weekends away in Bognor and the dirty talk during office hours, and insist that she is offered a permanent position, plus an extra £5,000 per annum, for being an outstanding employee?

Did you answer mostly 'a'? You definitely have management potential.

Did you answer mostly 'b'? Are you a close relation of mine?

Did you answer mostly 'c'? You're already a manager, aren't you?

Cables and Leads

A man can never have enough cables and leads, apparently. We have at least a black bin bag and a half, but, quite often, the male members of my household are unable to find the particular cable or lead that they need. At this point, all attention generally turns to me, and a conversation similar to the one below ensues:

'Where is the lead I left in the middle of the dining room table, on the 20th March 2004?' enquires a family member, somewhat accusingly.

'Why do you think I would know?' I ask, playing for time.

'Well, you are the only one who tidies up around here!' replies the male family member, triumphantly.

The trap has been set. He is aware that I will desperately feel the need to say 'I certainly am the only person who ever tidies up around here!' but if I say that, it will be an admission of guilt. I bite back my tempting retort and reply truthfully 'I don't remember seeing it and I don't know where it is. If I had moved it, I would have put it in one of those black bags, or on the shelf under the computer table. Learn to look after your own things' I add in my own defence. 'Don't leave it to me. Put them somewhere safe, if you don't want to lose them.'

Back comes the inevitable reply. 'I do look after my own things. I did put it somewhere safe. I put it in the middle of the dining room table.'

When the lead or cable is finally found in someone's car (It has been known.) or drawer, the family member still regards me with some suspicion. He doesn't feel that he could possibly have put it there himself and forgotten. He feels that it was definitely me, who put it wherever, with the unfathomable, but determined, objective that it would never, ever be found again.
Inevitably, by the time the missing cable or lead has been found, a new one has already been purchased.

One of the observations on my lengthy list, relating to the male sex, clearly states that, men are perfectly capable of searching for lost items, but totally incapable of ever finding them, particularly if aforesaid items are surrounded by others of similar shape and size. This could well explain why we have a bin bag and a half of cables and leads in the first place.

Note: A recent blog by p.r (A Day at the Shops) set the above train of thought in motion.

Tea For One

So my youngest son went off to university on Sunday. The 'moving in' experience wasn't as lengthy a process as it had been, when my middle son started, some years ago. We simply parked up, collected the key to the room and found our own way.

We sorted out the room, had a nice meal in a nearby restaurant, and finally left our youngest son outside his new room, chatting with his fellow students.

I shed a few tears on the way home in the car, under cover of the darkness, and our youngest son texted us later in the evening to say that he was having an 'amazin' time.

For everyone else life seems to carry on as normal. I try not to feel devastated, but I do. I am constantly reminded that he is missing.

When I awake, he is not in his bed. When I prepare my breakfast cereal, we have too much milk in the 'fridge. I shop in the supermarket for 3, instead of 4. I arrive home, and the house is empty. I drink my cup of tea alone. There is not enough washing for a proper load.

His pre-student paraphernalia litters every surface, but for some reason, it is when I see his name printed at the top of his latest bank statement, that I finally break down and weep.

Today my husband is manning a stand, at an exhibition, in a town nearby to where my son is staying, so he is visiting him. He is taking an aerial for student son's television set, and the 2 large cushions I have bought to make his room more comfortable. My husband will see our youngest son this afternoon. I will not.

As my husband leaves for the exhibition, this morning, I unexpectedly shed a few tears. "Why are you crying?" he asks.

Changing Spots

I was re-arranging the throw on the sofa when I heard my middle son return home. "Hello, middle son" I replied to his greeting, as I concentrated on straightening the throw.

"Mom, this is Debbie" he said. I spun round and smiled at the pretty girl, with dark hair, standing shyly in the living room doorway. My suspicions were finally confirmed! I'd had a feeling that he'd been seeing someone special, over the past 2 or 3 weeks or so. His inane grinning over the same period of time, for no particular reason, had been a bit of a giveaway.

A conversation followed, during which it transpired that, Debbie was singing at St Martin's Church, nearby, that evening and middle son had paid £10 for a ticket, so that he could go and watch the performance. "We've picked up a vegetarian pizza, for tea" said middle son, pulling a bit of a face. Debbie couldn't see his expression, from her position standing beside him, both of them facing us. My husband and I exchanged smirks, as the pair of them headed into the kitchen.

Given the choice, our middle carnivore's favourite food would normally be ribs, steak, or mixed grill. Meat feast pizza was one of his favourites, but, as far as I knew, a slice of meat free had never passed his lips.

A while later, as middle son passed through the living room alone, I asked him whether he had enjoyed his first vegetarian pizza. "It wasn't bad, actually" he replied. I glanced at the clock, noticing that there wasn't much time left, for my son and his new girlfriend to get to the church.

"Do you know how to get to St Martin's church?" I asked, innocently, nudging my husband, as we sat side-by-side on the sofa.

"Yes thanks, mom" grinned my middle son, understanding the joke, but refusing to be drawn.

A short while after their departure, my husband looked out of the dining room window, onto our drive, and called to me in amazement. "They've walked!" Sure enough, middle son's car was standing on the drive. Since passing his test 3 years ago, middle son had only ever walked to the 'pub and back. Any other journey, which would normally take 2 minutes or more on foot, necessitated compulsory use of his car.

Several hours later, after an enjoyable evening, son and girlfriend had returned from their outing, and were settling down to watch a DVD in another room. Middle son passed through the living room alone, once more, on his way to make drinks in the kitchen. He was grinning inanely, again, for no particular reason. I raised my eyebrows, put my head on one side, and enquired with a little smile "Was there much fighting in the mosh pit, tonight, then?"

The Sock Incident

There is a pair of socks outside our bedroom door. They have been there for several days, and I have finally mustered up the enthusiasm to try and trace their owner.

My 2 older sons are missing, so I pick up the socks, which are obviously in need of washing, and head downstairs, in search of the fourth male-who-knows-everything in my life - my youngest son. I find him in the living room.

"Do you know who these socks belong to?" I ask, turning them to the right side.

"They're 'Playboy' socks. They belong to *******," (eldest son) he replies.

"Oh!" I say. "I wasn't sure whether they belonged to ********" (middle son).

"No, those are his," he explains, pointing outside, in the vague direction of the patio. I walk closer to the window, and see a pair of socks over the back of one of the garden chairs.

"Obviously," I mutter, with as much sarcasm as I can muster.

"What?" He looks at me, wide-eyed and incredulous. I open my mouth to try and explain. A few words fall out of my open mouth, but they do not emerge in any intelligible pattern, and I realise that I am unable to explain. It all makes sense to him. I am feather-brained, so I should not concern myself with such a complex problem. I admit defeat. At least I know what to do with the socks.

I go back upstairs, and add them to my eldest son's pile of laundry, which he insists on keeping on the landing, outside the door of his seething pit. I remember that he has been staying at his girlfriend's house for the last few nights. I pick up his laundry pile, and drop it on the floor, just inside his seething pit. I close the door with a grin of satisfaction. The landing is now clear of clutter. I could even vacuum it, if I was so inclined. I am not.

I have already achieved something, today. I have tidied away a pair of socks, and a pile of laundry. I live in a household full of men. I have learned to be content with very little. I am content.