No, of course, men and women are different. God didn't hook us up the same way, so we think, see, and do things differently. Women probably think that, not only are men hooked up differently, most of them aren't hooked up correctly at all. I know for a fact that the Wife thinks that about me, at least in one set of circumstances, if not more.
This one thing showed itself early on in our marriage, and I think at first it perplexed the Wife, but in the years since, it has grown to aggravate, irritate, and exasperate her, as well. I try to diffuse the situation the best I can, but remember, I'm a guy, so the best I can isn't always that good.
Here's how it plays out: I, being the manly man that I am, grow facial hair at the rate of about two inches per day. I have had a goatee for as long as anyone can remember, so every week or so I have to trim it, or else it will soon start to drag on the floor, and I would get tired of combing out the dust bunnies it would constantly be picking up. So, I go into the bathroom with my electric beard trimmer and my trusty Fiskars scissors, and I start trimming. Sculpting is probably a more accurate description of what I do, since it looks like a work of art when I finish.
After about 10 or 15 minutes, I emerge from the bathroom a changed man, full of confidence and animal magnetism, knowing that my newly coiffed facial hair has turned me into a handsome young buck, or at least it's made me look less like a hobo, which might be as good as I can hope for.
I strut around the house with renewed vigor, fully expecting compliments to be showered upon me by my beloved bride. Instead, I only hear gasps, wheezes, and snorts coming from the bathroom. I go in to see what all the commotion is about, only to find the Wife, a look of extreme consternation on her face, pointing at the bathroom counter immediately surrounding the sink.
"What's going on?" I ask, befuddled.
"Look at the sink" she groans through clenched teeth.
"I don't know what I'm looking at" I say, thoroughly confused.
"There are whiskers everywhere!" she explains.
"No, there can't be. I cleaned up after myself."
"Well, look again, Bartimaeus!"
(Sometimes we call each other by cute little nicknames to convey our love. This was not one of those times.)
So I looked, and, sure enough, there were a few whiskers that I missed. Not too many, though. It couldn't have been more than 10 or 200. I explained that those weren't there a few minutes ago. The Wife explains to me that A. Nobody else in the house has dark hair. B. Nobody else in the house has a beard that needs trimming. And C. Whose whiskers could they be if they aren't yours?!?!?!
|Can you see any whiskers in this photo? No, me neither...|
After battling the same issue for several years, I have come up with a theory. Men and women do not see things the same way! When I finish trimming my beard, there are literally millions of whiskers laying about. Upon cleaning them, the millions are gone, but apparently a few still remain that I don't notice. Only a woman's eyes can see them. It's a pretty strange occurrence, and has been the cause of many fun "discussions" between the Wife and me. If I figure out a solution, I will let all my bearded friends know. I could ask other guys how they handle the situation, but they're guys; they won't know. Maybe I should ask the next Sasquatch I see. He's bound to have better ideas than I do.