Why do men love to be kept in line?

Seriously, what’s the deal with men needing to be schooled by the women in their lives on a regular basis? Is it one of those Oedipus things translated to marriage, or what?

For example, Huz puttered around our room the other morning looking for something to wear to work, despite having a closet full of drycleaned and perfectly acceptable choices. He came out wearing a pair of khakis that looked as though he’d folded them into an origami swan before donning them. As if I don’t have enough going on in the morning with Baby Bean, I had to stop him and do this:

You can’t wear that.
Why? *disgusted look, like I am just seriously wrecking his morning*
Because they look like you got them from under a rock, and you are the boss and you are supposed to be setting an example.
But I don’t have anything to wear!
*baleful look from me as I watch him stand and stare hopelessly at his full closet while I tend to Bean*
Then take them off, go get the iron, plug it in over there, and run it over those pants really quickly.
He then makes some sort of sound like, “Chuh!” then goes and does what I’ve told him, minus the last, most critical step, of actually applying the iron to the pants. Moves pants around quite a bit instead, then gives up and walks back into the room. Comes back out in jeans.
What happened?!
They’re too wrinkled.
Are you trying to tell me that you don’t know how to use an iron? Because I know that you do, I’ve seen you. You even know how to sew, for  God’s sake.
I didn’t have time. I have to take out the dog.
In the time it took you to do the little frustration dance you just did and then go change into jeans, you could have been done ironing. Is this one of those things where you pretend that you don’t know how to do something in order to get me disgusted enough to do it for you? Because I am holding your baby and besides, I can’t iron those for you now, just on principle.

aaaaand scene.

I checked with the Beavers and they have similar stories to tell. One husband will not eat dinner if she is not there, unless she calls and tells him what to make for himself. He will actually go hungry. Does he stare at the cupboard in her absence, desperately wanting to eat? How did he survive before marrying her?

Another one of the Beavs has a boyfriend that will walk out to work wearing clothes that have come from a ball in the laundry basket, and clearly look that way. She has to intervene at least twice weekly.

Huz even likes for me cut his hair, even though he has to beg me to do it and he can get a perfectly good haircut on any block in the city. He insists he likes the way I do it better even when I procrastinate for weeks and his hair grows long enough to look like Kirk Cameron’s in the 80’s (and no, I am not a stylist, although the boobs in the face/leg straddling thing I do while cutting may have something to do with his insistence).

These are not the stereotypically lazy, befuddled men that are so popularly depicted in sitcoms. They are professionals who are in charge of themselves and others in their daily work, and in some cases, of many others. All are otherwise intelligent creatures. What gives? Do men simply feign helplessness so that women will intervene and make them feel cared for? Because we do care for you, we love you all to pieces, so it’s actually a bit worrisome when you wander around the house with a confused and/or frustrated expression, bedeviled by the simplest acts of self-care.

It all reminds me of a documentary I once watched, about a dominatrix whose clients were all high-powered executive types. They pushed people around all day long, seizing opportunities while standing on the heads and shoulders of others, essentially raping and pillaging the common folk, yet they paid a dom a small fortune to bind them to odd apparatus and torture their balls and whatnot. One said something like it was a relief to not be in control of anything, even the pain being inflicted on him. His dom had a no-orgasm policy (!!!!!), so he wasn’t even going to her for a sexual release. Another dom said that she could no longer have her male “slaves” do housework for her, because they kept breaking dishes on purpose, just to be severely punished (again, !!!!!). Fascinating to me, these men.

I digress.

Who knows what all this neediness is really about…it certainly isn’t lack of ability; again, these are not lazy men. Huz has been acting lately as though I did my thesis on cleaning up after his ass, which annoys me to no end, but he’s not all bad. Besides, when he is being particularly annoying, I do have a tendency to yell, “Motherfucker!” to which he charmingly replies, “Why yes, Dear, yes I am.” This is an update to his response to that word during my pregnancy, when he would cheerfully say, “Not yet!” Cheeky bastard.

At this rate, our curse jar should be sufficiently full enough by the time Baby Bean is a year old to send us all to Fiji first-class with a private nanny in tow.

---

Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)

• From me to me, before my wedding.
• Here Ya Go
• Murdered Ben's chilling vision
• Becks on a year in Los Angeles