House of Eratosthenes

The act of endlessly hovering around a room or living space, burping out negative comments about disparate subjects, as if expressing a desire for wrong things to be made right. But even if this were to somehow magically become the case in the blink of an eye, the neg-burping would and will continue. Often done by women in foul moods when the DVD has just started and the plot to the movie is being defined (in a rather timid volume)…especially if the woman works full time.

Neg-burping is a test. There is no correct response to it. If a man pauses the movie, rushes over and furiously begins scrubbing the stove top, all he can manage to communicate by such an emergency response is: I am weak and passive. I can be whipped around in all sorts of different directions like some kind of toy. I am not capable of reading between the lines. I believe all the bullshit in glossy magazines about men being sexier when they do housework. I do not have the courage to perceive reality around me as it really exists. And yet I am a “details dude,” a thoroughly incompetent one, even worse I am adapted into that thinking mode, without resistance, on your say-so. There is no inertia to me and I am woefully unfit for the far more critical role of visionary household patriarch. I am a pussy beta male and therefore I am Darwin-fodder. You now may choose whether your genetic material is to be spliced with mine, and die along with it.

So nobody wins by obeying the neg-burping.

And of course, ignoring it doesn’t get you ahead. A smart-ass comeback doesn’t win you any points. Sitting there on the couch with your big ol’ beer gut hanging out, eyes at half-mast, burping like a bullfrog, yammering for another bottle doesn’t work either…I’ve tried those.

When you think about it, about the only fair thing you can do is exactly what she’d do to you if the roles were reversed: Order her to go to bed as if she were five years old, and wish her a better day tomorrow.

Your mileage definitely may vary.

This is the official contribution of The Blog That Nobody Reads, to national Offend a Feminist Week. I am going to keep my silence on whether or not it accurately describes our evening last night.

OK, can we assume is that the couch is where the morning found you?

You’re right, though. When the fairer half of your relationship is spoiling for a fight, the best you can do is to get some distance, and give it some time.

However, if that becomes a frequent occurance, you may want to perform a thorough reevaluation of the relationship.

I’m not being holier than. My bride can regail you for hours with stories of my assholiness.

Hope you have a better evening tonight.
- HoundOfDoom | 05/08/2010 @ 12:09
I don’t have any contact at all with the ones who are spoiling for a fight. My current gal is wonderful, and we were joking about her neg-burping before the sun came up this morning. It’s more like one of those situations where you don’t know what to do about all these problems, and you can’t possibly know what to do, because she doesn’t know. Really bad migraine. All women who work full time get this way at some time or another and they start neg-burping.

To the bedchamber with you, cantankerous wench, and take your execrable neg-burping with you. Get me another beer while you’re up though.
- mkfreeberg | 05/08/2010 @ 13:50
Haha… I find those spells to be cyclical, usually lasting about a week every month.

“You’re on the rag again, aren’t you? (as it if wasn’t obvious) “Go to bed, and we can try a rational conversation in the morning.”

I mean, it really doesn’t matter what you say, because the fiery wrath of hell will descend upon you anyway. Might as well say something that makes you chuckle as the incandescent hot vitriol pours all over your body.
- pdwalker | 05/08/2010 @ 19:55

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.

Recent

Items of Interest

Monthly Archives

What They Say

Links

I Made a New Word XXXVISaturday, May 8th, 2010

I Made a New Word XXXVI
Saturday, May 8th, 2010