I PLAY A MARRIED WOMAN

Being a woman is both a blessing and a curse. For centuries we had to deal with male idiocy disguised as logic, while ourselves constantly accused of being too emotional and devoid of clear thinking – even in the most progressive societies. And when the civilized world finally acknowledged the fact that our feelings are deserving of respect and consideration (at least in some instances), different floodgate opened. Males of the species in the dialogue about feelings perceived an opening in which to insert their own emotions, and since then we are under constant barrage of their (forgive my French) whining. The said whining comes from all sides of political spectrum, i.e. the ladies magazines (which are notoriously left-wing) and different religious sources (which are usually not left-wing at all).

So, not to be outdone, a few months ago Aish put on their website something authored by a Rabbi and titled “Ten Things Men Wish Women Knew”. Now, as my readers know, I have never been married; however, having observed countless married relatives, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, I feel that I am competent to respond to this little masterpiece. My character is a collective of about 15 real people I know, has a few kids, works, lives in Brooklyn (for the ease of reference), and has the usual assortment of in-laws.

Ladies, it's not complicated. And guys feel free to add your additional points in the comment sections below.

R: Love, love, love this little introduction! Does this mean that the complaint is more than 10 points long? But of course it is, why am I so surprised?!

1) Just like women, we need love. Even though women have the reputation of being more emotionally needy, we find ourselves longing for those words. Please say them often.

R: Honey, I knew you were emotionally needy when you got jealous of our first baby and the amount of time I was giving him (ergo, stopped giving you) – so, that's not news to me. I love you and would like to assert it as much and as often as possible – however, it is a bit hard to do when more often than not you yourself show complete disregard to the feelings and emotional needs of our children, never mind mine.

2) Additionally we crave respect and approval. Show us admiration and your wish will be our command. Nag us or attack us and we will retreat to our caves.

R: If I did not respect you or did not approve of you, the wedding would never have happened. How exactly am I supposed to show you admiration – give you a gold star every time you finally finish something you promised to do half a year ago? What constitutes nagging – my asking you (politely) for about 10 times to do something for the house and/or for the kids and not so politely for the 11^th? How else would you like me to proceed? I texted you; wrote a note on the fridge, and told it to you verbally – all, mind you, exactly as per your instructions for such cases. Why is your selective memory and inattention to our needs translates into my nagging?

3) We are not mind readers. We can’t anticipate your needs and desires. Tell us what you want. Help us out. We want to give to you but you need to tell us how. Don’t be coy; be straight. The proof of our love is not in our clairvoyance but in our response to your clearly expressed wishes.

R: As previously mentioned, I love and respect you – which also means that the object of my affection is bright and in possession of common sense. So, please forgive me for assuming that if you finished a roll of toilet paper, you would replace it; if you see a light bulb on the front porch die, you would replace it – especially considering that you are 7 inches taller than I; that if our daughter is showing you her drawing, you would talk to her and praise her work; that your first greeting of the day to our children would not be screaming and accusations; and that if you like to rest and drink hot tea when you are sick, you would automatically assume that I would likewise like to rest and drink warm tea when I am equally sick. Forgive me for this horribly mistaken assumption – I never knew that in masculine language common sense is mistaken for clairvoyance. But even if I am straight with you – meaning I spell out in minute details what precisely I want at this particular moment or what I would like for you do – most of the time my wishes are somehow ignored or forgotten – and then I am accused of “nagging”.

4) We respect what a good mother you are and how much you do for the community, but we do not want to be at the bottom of your to-do list. We want to feel like we are the most important person in your life. (Would you mind getting off the phone when we walk in the door?)

R: You are my husband and the father of my children. You are very, very important to me! When you are sad, or sick, or hurt – it hurts me too, more than you usually realize. But our children are the most important people in my life! They are the results of our love and commitment to each other; they are the best of both of us. But they are also small and defenseless – and they need love, guidance, and constant care. They can't cook for themselves; half of them can't even get dressed on their own, or blow their noses, of, forgive me, wipe their little tuschies. They can't even get to their friends' houses on their own. They also don't know how to deal with difficult situations, adversity, or bullies, and most of the time they can't clearly articulate what exactly is hurting them. Also, aside from our older daughter, none of them would ever voluntarily do their homework – would you like me to hire a tutor for them?

As for my “community work”, as limited as it is – for some reason I assumed that the situation of Mrs. R on the next block, who is blessed with more children than we and whose husband is battling cancer for about 3 years now, or Z's family 5 blocks over, whose youngest child is in and out of the hospital for over a year, of Mrs. S's, who is basically housebound and has no family to my knowledge – in my ignorance and silliness I thought that our problems and concerns, as weighty as they are, somehow pale next to these people's, so, yes, occasionally I do ignore or forget your dinner, shirts at the dry cleaner's, or even your second cousin's Bar Mitzvah, in order to run errands for these other people and try somehow to lessen their problems and concerns.

And, finally, my telephone conversations. I figured out long time ago that there is a slight disparity in what constitutes good manners by my family – and how your family looks at that particular subject. Never the less, I was taught to treat everyone with equal respect – so, if I am talking to someone on the phone, I consider it rude to hang up on them the minute you walked into the house. I said hello and acknowledged your presence – is this not enough? Plus, don't forget one important detail – most of these phone calls are not with my friends, but rather connected in one way or another with our children. And I shudder to even contemplate what will happen if I hang up on your mother or one of your siblings – this horrible faux pas will probably be mentioned at our baby's Bat Mitzvah – or possibly even her wedding reception.

5) Our desire for physical intimacy is not some trivial biological need that we should just suppress until the kids are older. It is an expression of our desire for a deep and profound connection with you. When you rebuff it, it is hurtful and we feel rejected. Imagine if we are always too tired to talk to you.

R: Here is the simple truth: by the time I hit the pillow at night, I am unconscious about 95% of the time. Blame it on the following: unending housework that I do ( and you somehow do not see the results of), kids' schools, homework, teachers, bath time, or what have you; the endless food shopping and other errands, commuting to work, endless frustration from the job itself, the thankless task of constant diplomacy (above the level of the State Department requirement) in dealing with your family – any one of these, all of them, or any combination of the above completely drain my physical and mental energy. As a side note – I wanted to take a few years off from work after our son was born so I could be home with children, but your parents frowned at the idea of their darling child working alone in order to support the lazy queen at home. So, sweetheart, whatever the cause may be, the effect is – I am usually comatose at night. But, to paraphrase a popular book, if necrophilia is your thing, I am not stopping you. And, yes, usually you ARE to tired to talk to me – regardless of the topic of conversation.

6) Our jobs are important to us – for our self-worth, for a feeling of accomplishment, and because we want to provide for our families. Please try to understand that we work hard and are actually not on the golf course all day.

R.: Darling, the fact that you wanted to support our family from day one is one of the reasons I liked you from the beginning. I understand that your work takes a lot out of you – but I work too. You require time to decompress after a tong day at the office before you can talk to me or the children with any degree of civility – I never get this option. And, yes, I did not work while on maternity leave – but it was no picnic by any stretch of the imagination.

7) You seem to think we’re incompetent but we are actually capable of watching our children – and even doing a good job of it! If you want to have a break and get out of the house, please go – and trust us.

R: Oh, wow! Does this come from the same man who would not let me go to supermarket on Thursday night because he was afraid to be with our newborn for less than an hour? The same person who kept berating me for having the audacity to leave him with a screaming baby so that I could go to the mikva? I am duly impressed with your maturity and attitude change! I am taking you up on your offer this coming Sunday and going out with my friend for a few hours- and then ( just for the sake of science) I will count how many phone calls I would get asking me where the coats are, how come we are out of milk, are any of our kids allergic to peanut butter, is the kugel in the fridge dairy or pareve, why are they fighting over the same pack of crayons, et cetera, et cetera. Finally, I wonder at how much time would pass before I would be asked about how long I was planning to talk idiotic nonsense to my friend. But, hey, hope springs eternal. On the second thought – scratch the whole friends outing! May I just have a nice, long, uninterrupted nap? Then maybe we could address your concern listed at #5.

8) We are not another one of your children. Please don’t speak of us that way (we don’t think it’s cute) when talking with your friends, and please don’t treat us that way. It diminishes us and you.

R: OK, you got me there, pal! I am completely stumped – what precisely are you talking about? Unless you are referring to the times when you decided to justify the saying “a woman gets her first child the day after the wedding”, and I called you on it (but did not discuss it with any of my friends), I really have no idea what you are talking about and what the issue is.

9) We really wish we could give you all the material possessions your heart desires. It is painful to us that we can’t. Please don’t increase the pressure by constantly criticizing us about it.

R: I appreciate the sentiment, darling, I really do! But what material possessions are we talking about? The jewelry I got after our first son was born? I really did not want them – your family insisted. My perfume collection? They are presents from my mom and my sister. My wig? You kept making a hole in my head (forgive the pun) till I got one. Clothing for the kids? They do grow, you know; and I can't always insist on the younger ones wearing the hand me downs from their older siblings – it's simply unfair. My clothing? I am sorry, but it is usually more expensive than yours – you are welcome to tag along with me and find out for yourself. Family vacations are non-negotiable, I am sorry. As for criticizing you – are we talking about my suggestion of a homemade lunch for you at least twice a week as opposed to take out? Or my annoyance at your purchase of the new phone and an ipad before the necessary bathroom repairs? I do apologize, most humbly! In my obtuseness I somehow decided that, as we own the house, it really would be a great idea to make sure there are no leaks in the ceiling, and it pains me to know that I caused you pain and distracted you from the ipad enjoyment for an entire evening.

10) We are simple creatures with simple needs. We don’t require elaborate dinners on fancy china. We just want the comfort of a warm home and the love of a good woman.

R: I love you very much, sweetheart, but dealing with your moods somehow makes me doubt the validity of your claim for simplicity. You may not require elaborate dinners or fancy china, but I sometimes actually do – and if any member of your family comes to visit, simple fare and disposable dishes are not an option. Believe it or not, but one of my main reasons for marriage was the desire to be a loving wife who provides a warm home for her (hopefully) equally loving husband. I make every possible effort to achieve that goal, but I am human and ergo not perfect; however, I would dearly appreciate the same effort (or at least an attempt) on your part.

Your loving wife.


And, gentlemen, bonus point from me personally, and not from the imaginary wife: there are two logical reasons for putting down the toilet cover: 1. There is less of a chance of something falling inside and necessitating repairs and 2. Less germs get in the air, especially if your bathroom is on the small side. So, please don’t complain about our toilet seat nagging – we actually do have a point.

MY BRIDGET JONES MOMENT # 666A

NOT FOR MARRIED PEOPLE!!

One fine Monday evening I came home after a particularly annoying work day, laden with G-d knows how many heavy grocery bags. After this I proceed to do the usual "female" work: I cooked, cleaned the fridge, did a mountain of dishes, and straightened out the kitchen. All in all, I almost missed the Tonight Show with all this homegrown entertainment.

And in the midst of all this amusement, my brain began to wonder, and funny thoughts started creeping into it. Why, precisely, do I want to get married? Why do I waste my precious time going out with losers, chip skates, and obnoxious morons? Why do I humiliate myself over and over again (despite the repeated promises to self to cease and desist) with all those so-called matchmakers? Because this was a sample of the bliss that would be awaiting me immediately after Sheva Brachot (most of it before, come to think of it).

An overgrown baby who would moan and groan if he gets a cold (slight or otherwise), and moan and groan even more if I would get a full blown flu (not from taking care of me, mind you; just from the removal of the comforts due to him). His family would be nasty to me; I would be expected to be nice to them at all times; he would be nasty to my family whenever he is in a snit; my family and I would be expected to just swallow it and exercise diplomacy at all times. There would be constant complains about my housekeeping abilities, my cooking abilities, absence of home cooked meals, and my general (very lacking) time management (even if both of us work the same amount of time). There would be constant suggestions concerning my wardrobe and hair covering; and, believe me, one area where I am very tolerant of my fellow humans is their wardrobes. I would still be doing all the housework (very thanklessly); he would expect a hit parade if he washed his coffee mug. If he is in a bad mood, I would be expected to be understanding and supportive; if I am in a bad mood, I am a quarrelsome, bad tempered witch. I won't be able to spend time with my friends without him racking some kind of huge bonus; he would be able to just go with his friends at a whim. If he made a decision, he would just act on it; if I made a decision, I would have to employ major stratagems so wonderfully portrayed in "My Fat Greek Wedding".

Basically, men go through two stages of development: maturing and aging. In the process, somebody always have to stroke their monumental egos, always confirming their ideas of their superior mental powers and superior understanding of the world. Gloria Steinem and her coven can do any number of pushy, mean, and idiotic things; at the end of the day, it is still very much a men's world, and women come out on the losing end no matter what. And, the saddest of all, all those observations and conclusions did not come to me from books; they came from years of observing my married friends, relatives, and sundry acquaintances.

Jay Leno's "Headlines" calmed me down somehow; afterwards, I devised an intervention plan. When my sis finally gets her humongous professional portrait of The Fluffy Heads, I would ask for another one for my kitchen as a good reminder that such results are worth dealing with man's idiosyncrasies; I should also hint to people not to fight in front of idealistic and impressionable friends. And, most importantly, I shall revisit Hayden Rothwell.

DIVORCE CELTIC STYLE

Recently discovered antics of our former governor, subsequent media circus, wonderful confessions of our current governor, continued media circus, and all the resurrected widely publicised marital infidelities amongst politicians in recent times sparked some very interesting discussions.

I personally would have loved to see Spitzer's wife apply the old Celtic remedy: cast iron skillet to his head. Of course, as my friend Subwife pointed out, as much as we all would have loved to see this happen, that option was not very feasible. But these musings made me remember a very entertaining book about Celts I have read a while back. The book's author is Aideen Cremin, and the title is simply "The Celts". In that book, there is a great description about their marriage and divorce laws. Especially noteworthy is this amusing paragraph:

"A woman could divorce her husband if he failed to support her, or failed to treat her with respect, if he was impotent, homosexual, sterile, or gossiped about their sex lives. She could even leave him if he was fat, a snorer or just plain repulsive."

PS TO THE LAST ENTRY

Something possessed me to re-read my last entry, and I realized that even though I am generally an able multi-tasker, I can not type my blog entries and do other things at the same time. I realized that my second paragraph was not sufficiently clear, and that my married friends might interpret the rest of the entry as personal attack on their own married lives. Girls and guys, nothing could be further from the truth! All my inferences actually come from people whom I try to avoid as much as possible and sometimes even succeed; but even unsociable people like yours truly usually know more people when they want to, especially when you live and work in the big city and slowly advance in years. I might be an angry witch, but jealousy was never one of my sins, and I do not envy my married friends their happiness or feel bitter about the fact that they found somebody and I didn't.

One of my readers, Maria Lokhankin, has pointed out that in her personal opinion, sometimes you get a Mr. Darcy and end up wishing you'd have married Mr. Bingley instead. I think what she meant was that you marry an almost perfect guy and end up wishing for an easy-going dude next door. A very valid point, because being with a nearly perfect anybody is a very daunting and exhausting task. My point was that a dude with strong character is soooo much better and more desirable than somebody who is friendly and easy going but can't keep his loyalty.

On this note, Hurray to marriage and the pursuit of happiness, in whatever form we hope to acquire it!

FOR UNMARRIED LADIES ONLY

My recent bout of dating confirmed my believe in something I claimed some time ago: Pride and Prejudice is an all time dating classic. For more or less civilized people, of course. We are not talking about stealing a bride or paying two sheep to her closest male relative. But, seriously, the more I read it and then look around, the more I am convinced of that fact.

For the record, among my relatives, friends, and close acquaintances, I am the only one who has never been married. One of my closest friends is divorced; the rest of the ladies in my circle are married. So, between my unending dating horrors, and recent (or not so recent) dating sagas of my relatives and friends, plus my observations of the people that are sort of passing through my life and my general field of vision, certain patterns and conclusions are beginning to emerge in my brain.

Mr. Darcy is the personification of our romantic dreams. He is the classical tall, dark and handsome, although that phrase always annoyed me. It is so damn shallow! Yes, it may be a tad annoying if your significant other is shorter than you, but it is not the end of the world. Preference between dark or blond is a matter of personal taste: I personally think redheads are the sexiest. As to handsome, it is my deep personal conviction, confirmed by observation and experience, that guys that are, or considered, handsome, are usually vain, conceited, and posses the highly elevated sense of entitlement; but I digress.

You see, Darcy is a kind of dude we are all hoping to marry one day. He is not just rich and handsome; he is also very kind, honorable, responsible, has high moral principals to which he actually sticks, and even open to criticism to a certain extent. Now, thanks to the barracudas from NOW, extremely loudmouthed gay lobby, and others of their ilk, guys like Darcy are supposed to be un-cool and outlawed, and for women to hope to one day meet someone like this is considered extremely un-PC. The whole meaning of the word "decent" got distorted, and the word "honorable" became obsolete. Despite all this, for any girl with at least one romantic bone in her body, hope springs eternal. Unfortunately, for overwhelming majority of us, meeting and marrying somebody like Fitzwilliam Darcy remains just that: a nice but impossible romantic dream.

The best we can usually hope for, and usually get, is Bingley. He is a nice and decent guy, warm, friendly, and not too high on the instep. Let us just not forget that when Darcy pointed out the general unsuitability of the Bennet family, Bingley dropped Jane like a hot potato (forgive the cliche), and only when his friend retracted that opinion, was Bingley comfortable to continue his courtship and eventually propose. Again, somebody like him would make a great husband; but how far will his loyalty stretch when the road will get a bit bumpy?

And how many women you know who have followed the path of Charlotte Lucas and have married a Mr. Collins? I actually know a few (fortunately, not close friends). At a certain point in their lives they all have decided that for whatever reason their prospects of marrying somebody who would be their equal are small or non-existent, so they settled for somebody who was their inferior on many levels, intellect usually being one of them. A girl has to eventually face the hard facts of live: she does not have spectacular looks, or fortune, or social connections. If she wants to have a marriage and family, she absolutely has to settle! So she is going to settle for a guy who just needs to get married soon, and any woman who looks like she is going to become a "comfortable wife" will do. Charlotte married a person who not only was intellectually inferior to her, but also happened to be a pompous jerk and a boot liker; but he gave her a husband, a child, a certain place in society and, most importantly, a status of a married woman. What more do you need?

For that matter, how many women you know that ended up just as Lydia did? Young, naive, flirtatious, a bit dumb, they end up falling for a dashing, handsome, absolutely devoid of honor womanizer, and end up connected to a prize like this for life. And how many are in the position of Mrs. Bennet? Very attractive, but intellectually inferior to her husband, she initially attracts him with her youth and beauty, but in the course of their shared lives loses his respect . He becomes eccentric, reclusive, and mostly ignores the rearing of their children and the concerns for their future. The saddest fact of all: how many of us were repeatedly instructed to be a Lydia or a Mrs. Bennet in a sense that a woman should be pretty and not very bright, for a man loves with his eyes, but is not stupid enough to marry a girl who is smarter than him?

Let's be fair: a lot of us do not deserve Mr. Darcy; and how many of us will have Elizabeth's courage to reject a proposal made to us "despite better judgement" or show the proverbial door to the likes of Lady Catherine? On the other hand, a quote keeps popping into my mind. I am not sure where I have heard it, but I think it was a Russian movie version of "Ideal Husband". It went something along the lines of "If we married the women we deserve.."

As I type this, another thing pops into my mind. An image of somebody very wise, a matron, most probably, but any man will do also. "OK, Barbie", he or she would say very kindly (or not so kindly), "you have a couple of problems. First of all, a green monster of jealousy is eating you alive. After all, even your younger sister is married, never mind all your friends. You just admitted that! Plus, you are unrealistic, unwise, your head is stuck in the proverbial clouds, and, most probably, you are unable to commit to a mature relationship, or (gasp), you totally do not comprehend the noble institution of marriage. You also forget that you are not eighteen anymore (twice that much, actually). You are short and fat (which is considered unattractive by about 95 % of our population). Your wardrobe is atrocious, your limited supply of make-up usually ends up in the trash because you use it about twice a year, you are not very rich, your family is kooky, you are interested in things most normal people do not give a fig about, you argue with your books on the train, and, for that matter, buy them instead of clothes. So, dearie, if you do not face reality and settle, you will end up an old maid!

To which I will raise my glass of chardonnay and propose two toasts. One, to the noble institution of marriage, to my married sister and all my married friends: may G-d bless all your marriages and all your children. May He rain good health, happiness and prosperity on you all! (Special honorable mention to my friend CW and her husband: continue to behave like newlyweds, you two are so perfect together!) Two, to every hopeful romantic single girl out there, and to every single romantic bone in my un-attractive body and every single strand of my hair that's stuck in the clouds! I may be a strange girl, but, even if only 50% of me deserves a Mr. Darcy, I know I will meet him. Wise gentlemen and wise matrons out there: just take care of your own boring lives.