It was at the latest “women’s gathering” I was invited to (read: went to kicking and screaming) that I got to thinking about how much easier it is to be a man:
Go to work. Maybe have a beer with the guys. Mow the lawn once in a while. Watch football on Sundays. And, of course, guard the remote control.
Never in a million years would guys invite other guys to a party where they’d be expected to buy things they really don’t want. Women are constantly bullied into attending makeup, basket, lingerie, jewelry, kitchen-utensil and countless other come-spend-lots-of-money-on-stuff-you-don’t-want soirees. Even if there were such a thing like, say, a tool party for guys, it would take place during commercial breaks of Monday Night Football. And I imagine it would go something like this:
Host: Hey, guys. I’m sellin’ hammers tonight.
Guest: Hammers?
Host: Yep.
Guest: I don’t need your [email protected]#$ hammers.
Host: Hey, shut up, the game’s back on.
And this is exactly why these parties don’t exist. So, as my hostess droned on about hand-stitched blah, blah, blah, I couldn’t help admiring men.
While women sit around at these parties, buying unwanted stuff and hearing about how Sally’s husband doesn’t find her attractive anymore, men get together, watch sports and remain completely oblivious as to how other men in their group feel about anything.
But when I received the following press release, I began wondering whether I really know what men are all about after all:
“Chicken Soup for the Soul” is climbing behind the wheel of America’s fastest growing sport with the recently released Chicken Soup for the Soul of NASCAR, which
features 101 stories of courage, speed and overcoming adversity, written by many of the sports biggest names including Jeff Gordon, Bobby Labonte and Tony Stewart.
Could this be a breakthrough for men? Will my husband soon be calling up his friend, Bob, just to chat? It wouldn’t be a terrible thing, mind you. It would just take some getting used to.
Maybe I shouldn’t be concerned. After all, I’m pretty sure Article 5, Section 3 of the “Rule Book for Guys” says emotions are fine as long as they’re sports related. Your team wins the Super Bowl, and you can cry. Someone on your softball teams hits a home run, and it’s OK to pat him on the tush. (As long as you don’t actually say the word “tush.”) So, it must be safe for guys to bare their NASCAR soul, right? I don’t know.
Maybe this will open things up for guys. Could my husband soon be watching “Lifetime for Men” and attending sports-equipment parties at Bob’s house? And most importantly, could this mean I might actually get to handle the remote control?
A girl can dream, can’t she?
Writer Cheryl McMullen is managing editor of BodyShop Business.
