A Walk in the Snark (12 page)

So, um, of course I had to write a Mancode piece about it.

In past
Mancode
pieces, we have reviewed that men cannot possibly understand our desire for yet another pair of black shoes (Look, Prada!), while we women are completely baffled by their need for that twenty-fifth hard drive. (Even if you're a tech chick who likes the hard drives, I bet your man still doesn’t get the shoe thing.)

We also
studied
how you will sit under three warm blankets wearing two pairs of woolen socks, yet he will open every window in the house while shouting “My God, why is it so hot in here?” without noticing you there, shivering like a wet kitten that has fallen headfirst into the champagne bucket.

And yes, sending your guy to the grocery store
alone with a list
is like sending him to a foreign country where he’s never been and they only speak wolf.

Still, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to
one particular element
of any long-term relationship—something so huge that it can cause a couple to experience a myriad of unnecessary problems down the road unless they work it out in the early stages of their tender, blossoming love:

The MAN must feel in control of the TV remote.

I’ve come to the conclusion that this widespread and well-known phenomenon occurs for mainly one reason:

Men channel surf for the simple reason that they cannot relationship surf.

Men have made lifelong commitments to their respective women; therefore the TV remote control is a portal, if you will, that affords them one of their only opportunities to still see what’s out there from the safety of their cozy and disease free (well, that is somewhat questionable in some cases) La-Z-Boy®.

See, the TV remote control is a man’s key to this forbidden, libidinous world that he is no longer privy to; yet he can still see what he might be missing with just a simple flick of his thumb.

It’s like magic—without the goofy cape and stuff.

Men not only must feel ownership of the remotes, they have also been known to go into a panic if they can’t find them. Would losing one’s wife create as much of a fuss? It is something to ponder, isn’t it?

Even if a woman has somehow convinced her man that two remotes is a good idea, four out of five psychologists agree that the man must feel he has
ultimate
control of the TV remote or the whole balance of the relationship (perhaps even the universe) may be in serious jeopardy. (Remember, the song “Dueling Banjos” came from the movie
Deliverance
for a reason. Think about it.)

I honestly think men would pee on the thing if they could. Yes, it is that important. And not just to control the channels. Oh no, my friends. There is also the issue of volume.

Have you ever tried to turn down your fella’s football game? Well, then. You understand.

I believe every woman has asked this question at some point in her relationship with the zoned-out creature—I mean, significant other, right?

Why do guys watch their testosterone-fueled shows, such as sports matches,
Survivorman
, or
Deadliest Catch
, with the volume turned up so loudly that even our neighbors in Canada can hear?

Frankly, it’s become pandemic.

My theory is this: Men get drunk with all that power. I bet that if you play those incessant beer commercials backward, you would hear echoes of “More power!” or “Turn it up!” subliminally in the background.

They turn it up simply because they CAN.

Do men keep the volume up so high as a way of exerting their masculinity? Or is the remote control simply another power tool? (Perhaps that’s why they sell them at Ace Hardware.) Or are they simply afraid that they might miss the latest E*TRADE baby commercial?

Do men turn the volume up so high simply because the button is there?

We women look at this topic differently. Any woman out there will agree with me when I say that guys, if you’re going to be in charge of the TV remote control, you need to take your job seriously and
mute those damn commercials
. We accept your psychological need to dominate the remote, but we need to get something in return.

Therefore I propose a deal: Give us our daily bread and mute those annoying phone families and Peeping Tom mops. We’d actually just prefer it if you’d keep your thumb over the MUTE button like the trigger-happy cowboy we know you fantasized about becoming when you were ten. (We’ve seen the little red hat in the closet, baby. We know.)

Go ahead. Show off when you do it. Feel all
manly
about it. We’ll even give you a polite golf clap if you’d like (while we roll our eyes and hold out our martini glasses).

We appreciate your channel surfing as a substitute for temptation, but you must do your part and Dear God, deliver us from that evil El Pollo Loco dude and those freecreditreport.com guys.

There’s no “I” in teamwork, sweetie (or in Prada, but that’s an entirely different matter). See how easily we can work together on this?

I’ll give you an example.

My older sister and her husband, C, are dedicated TV watchers. She says that when her husband dies, they will have to pry that remote out of his cold, stiff hand.

So she actually bought him a dummy control. Yep. He couldn’t go to sleep at night without that remote control in his hand, yet he would wake whenever she tried to slide it out of his viselike grip to (Oh my God) turn it down, or to watch her own show.

So she gave him his “binky,” so to speak. Now she watches her shows at a reasonable volume and, fake control in hand, Mr. Sandman takes C off to sleep every night. Smile on his face, C fades into dreams of naked girls...and baseball...and
Last Comic Standing
...and...

Nope, not kidding.

So while you may laugh, they just celebrated their twentieth anniversary.

My advice? In order to stay off the therapist’s couch over this simple #ManCode issue, we girls may have to give in a little on this one. Let your man have the
illusion
of control. It’s not like you can’t watch your shows at some point later anyway, right?

Most likely, he still hasn’t figured out the DVR.

Besides, we’ve got a walk-in closet to conquer.

***

“
If a man changes a toilet paper roll & no one is around to see it, did it really happen? #Mancode question of the day.”

MAN OF THE ER, HOUSE

I’ve accepted that my guy needs to be in control of the remote. It’s like his security blanket. If he can’t find it, he gets anxious. I feel the same about my Pradas, so it all works out.

About other issues though, sometimes my guy can be kinda bossy. I think it’s the pressure of being the breadwinner. It all evens out though, ’cause I can be kind of a bitch. Certainly we don’t fall in love with the bossy and the bitch (though I suppose some do); it’s how we get through these moments that speak to who we really are as a couple.

I’ve learned to let him rant; he’ll calm down, and then I’ll get my way. He’s learned to let me steam, write it out, and then let me get my way.

See how it all works out?

Man of the House.

Most men enjoy that title.

They work hard for it, and we as a society still tend to raise our little boys to grow up into those big shoes, despite huge leaps in equality for women. I’m raising both a girl and a boy, so I see it every day, all around me.

So what happens when the man puts his foot down and no one listens?

Welcome to my home.

My husband and I make most of our major decisions together, but we’re not perfect. Sometimes he’s bossy and if I don’t agree with him, he gets a little touchy. I, in turn, get really quiet if he doesn’t agree with me. We both need a little time ’til we’re ready to talk it out.

I’m not a yeller and I rarely raise my voice. But I can be a bitch…more of a stealth bitch, if you will. (If being an independent woman with an opinion who wants her way is being a bitch, then hell yeah, that’s me. Deal with it.)

As a woman, I’ve come to understand that men need to assert themselves in a much louder way than women do. Is it a testosterone or territorial thing? Well, it does make a woman wonder: If men could
pee
on a conversation, would they? Hmmmm....

My husband has a very assertive style of communicating. That’s not to say he’s a yeller or violent; he’s neither. He’s sweet and generous. He just speaks very loudly and is quick to interrupt to have his voice heard. (Classic Mancode behavior) And of course, it’s his way or the highway.

’Til it’s
my
way.

When we first met and started having long, romantic talks, he would cut me off. Why did he interrupt me so much? I thought he was being rude. Why was he telling me what I “should have done?” What, did he think I was stupid?

My husband, to this day, says no; he’s simply
embellishing
the story. When I take a breath, he sees that as an opportunity to launch. He calls that a discussion. I call it cutting me off. (We still can’t agree on this, and it’s been eighteen years.)

What happened to the art of listening?

Bear with me here but that’s where the difference lies, I believe, between a man who has to be the man of the house and one who takes into account the needs of those around him.

Men look at the big picture, baby. Women focus on the details.

In other words, I listen.
Then
I put my foot down. In my pretty shoes, of course.

I wouldn’t say marriage is a game. But I definitely have had to learn that while my husband may roar like a lion, I know I’ll have to hear him out, build my case, present my evidence, and then change his mind.

To what should have been done in the first place.

Because even though the “man of the house” cultural norm hasn’t died yet, men still haven’t figured out that we chicks are the decision-makers of the house.

But we know, girls, don’t we?

We
know
.

(Unless there’s a big spider. ‘Cause then I kinda don’t want to know. And he can stomp his big ol’ manly foot down all he wants.)

***

“
Loved #coffee for years. Frankly, I’m shocked at how faithful I am to a drink that’s been with so many other people. Slut!”

WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO FOR DINNER?

I love to have dates with my guy. We chat, hold hands, look lovingly into each other’s eyes—yes, even after eighteen years. I appreciate all the wonderful qualities that brought him into my life and I am truly thankful I ended up with the right guy, especially after the difficulties I went through with the wrong guy, er, guys.