This is a pre-event bitch, whine, belly achin , drag me kickin and screamin type comment. A pre-emptive complaint about how I know I will not in any sense of the word, enjoy it. My wife turned to me and said, "Excuse me, you are going. I do not even want to hear your mouth. Be ready to leave at 3 o'clock". The way her eyes slit and her mouth hardened into a rigid line told me to not even go there. So I came here instead.
It appears I am destined to enjoy a production down to the Ogunquit Playhouse this Sunday coming up. "Menopause, the Musical" has been delighting local women for a few weeks now. Every local fem between the age of 30 and 75 have crammed themselves into the small theater to be entertained with songs of hot flashing, hormonally screwed up females. Tickets are hard to come by. I can't wait.
I made the mistake of telling my riding buddies about being hijacked this Sunday. I had to give them a reason I was not available for the whole day to ride in the woods. Instead of lying and saving face, I stupidly offered the truth. I won't do that again. Carl looked at me in astonishment and then disgust. His wife has seen the production not once but twice. And so far, he has successfully resisted all of her attempts to drag him along. Now it appears my bad example and inability to weasel out of it will cut back his chances to resist the next time it is brought up in his house. Sorry dude.
I am trying to look at this from a mature and sensitive viewpoint. Keep a stiff upper llip. Suck it up and deal with it. And I will. But until then, I can piss and moan.
There are two things that women deal with that men don't. The ability to spit out new humans and the joys and fun of menopause strike a definitive and deep line between the sexes. Many hardass women contend men would not be able to deal with either. Since I do not have to personally deal with either of those pleasant experiences, I can only but wisely choose to agree with them. There is no understanding from a shared experience mentality.
I have learned to tread softly when confronted by a woman in the throes of either childbirth or coming down from Hot Flashes. I have learned to blow off the moments of unreasonable and random fits of emotional distress. And do not underestimate the power of a 5'2" puny woman's grip when labor is going full tilt boogie.
I will look forward to the experience with the knowledge that even if I do not like it, I will act the part. Stay tuned. A sequel awaits.
