Sage Advice For Young Men

A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster

Men and women are different. I know this will come as a shock to the young bucks who put down their cell phones occasionally to read a column by mistake.

To me, the revelation came to me when I was a teenager. I suspected something was amiss when the girls started to ruin the Truth or Dare games with kissy stuff instead of doing manly things like throwing fresh horse manure at passing buses, little old ladies, or smaller kids who went to another school.

To you boys out there, here’s a little advice on women: Don’t try to change them. For one thing they are smarter than you can ever hope to be. More important, they become quite likeable and astonishingly decorative after a while.  

To you young ladies: I know the boy who sits beside you in school is a bit of an idiot, but give him time and he will eventually become a first-class idiot. Then you can grab him and with any luck marry him. Yes, you will regret it soon after, but he’s better than nothing — admittedly not much better, but what are you going to do?

Let me tell you about a few observations I made over the years about the one major difference between men and women – it’s time.

Single men roll out of bed, shower, shave, put on the same jeans they have been wearing for the two weeks and are out the door in about 12 minutes. (If they have to root through the dirty clothes hamper or under the bed for a reasonably clean pair of socks, 14) Married men take a few minutes less since his wife will have done the laundry and put his stuff where he can find it without searching through the pile in the middle of the floor.

Women, however, arise to face the day on a somewhat different time table, a table based on the calendar, not the clock.

Literary historians believe the late JRR Tolkien never set out to write The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings. The books were the result of his idle doodling while waiting for his wife to get ready to go out for the evening.

The potions and elixirs Gandalf, the wizard, used to cure the ills and injuries sustained in battle by his warriors were concocted from the various cleansing creams, shampoos, conditioners and God knows what else he found under Mrs. Tolkien’s sink. If you remember, Sauron, the evil entity out to control Middle Earth, could destroy his enemies just by glaring at them. JRR got that idea when he saw the look on his wife’s face after he stuck his head around the bathroom door to inquire politely, “When in hell are you going to be ready? The damned car has been idling for an hour.”

Again, young gentlemen, if you should be so very fortunate as to find a lovely lady who not only cares for you, but actually agrees to marry you, let me give you another word of advice. After the honeymoon, eventually the two of you will want to get dressed. (Well she will; you won’t) Your missus will come out of the bedroom after several hours, dressed in her finest designer creation. She will ask, “Dearest, my little stud muffin, how do I look?” No matter what you think, if you know what’s good for you say, “You look fantastic!” The slightest hesitation on your part, look of dismay, or worse, giggle, will lead to tears and another hour of searching through the closet for a new outfit and I’m afraid your chances of making it to the theatre, party, public hanging or wherever you were going, are long gone.

Women, on the other hand, know just how to comment on a man’s apparel. They are never critical, never belittling of his choice no matter how dumb he looks. They simply roll their eyes saying sweetly, ”You’re not going to wear that, are you?”    

His answer better be, “Good heavens no! What would you suggest?”

Marriage is a partnership and as in most partnerships there is a Senior Partner and a Junior Partner. The Senior Partner is the one wearing the dress and also the pants in the family. The sooner a man learns that, the better off he will be.

Oh, oh! Mary is coming through the door and I have to gather rose petals for her bath. That’s what Junior Partners do — apparently.

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