Tag Archives: men

Man-nerism

Somethings are meant to be for boys, and clearly I’ve crossed that line before (like belching- I’m really good at that).  But now with “the man” of the house syndrome setting in, I’m realizing how manly I’m not, and how I rely on him to be “the man.”

I’ll spare a few details, however last night at 3 AM we happened to be awake…cough…figure it out.

The fiance remarks quietly, “I don’t think we’re alone.” He proceeds to remain in a long uncomfortable silent pause.

My mind starts to race.  WTF? Is he sensing some supernatural being.  Our dog is sitting in the crate near the bed.  What is he talking about we’re not alone ?

He gets up and states nonchalantly, “I thought I heard a bat flying around.”

WHAT??? How is he so calm?

I must make a note hear that I HATE anything that flies.  Especially birds, June Bugs, ugh-la.  They just make me squirm.  So the idea of a bat flying around in the bedroom, no less, sends me squirming under the covers.

As he’s makes his way back to bed from the bathroom…”Yep, there it is,” he remarks.

I pull all covers and pillows over my body, leaving a small area for me to peer out…which was a mistake.  I see the small fluttering object swooping around the bedroom.  “Get it out” I squeal!

He claims it’s out of the bedroom and closes the bedroom door and heads on a mission to get the bat out of the house.  A manly task, one which I would not brave leaving the many layers of covers to embrace.  Meanwhile, he’s traipsing around the house looking for a bat.  All of the lights in the house are on.  Our Bedroom door is closed and now the puppy is whimpering to get out.  I freakishly think, what if the bat is just hiding in a corner along side the bed, mocking me?  Gasp, Bats carry rabies, what if Brent swats the bat down and Diesel licks something off the floor and gets it?  If he swats it down how is he going to get it out of the house?  All things that I can’t fathom the answer.  I’m on a need to know basis, but I don’t want to know..lalalala

I get all spiritual and pray that “the man” gets it out of the house without much damage, disease, or mess.  I’m now laying in a pool of my own sweat under layers of thick blankets in 80 degree weather, with a jolt of fear sending my body into an overabundance of perspiration.

” Ha, Ha.  You can call me batman.” The fiance gleefully states from the upstairs hallway. “I got him out the door upstairs.” 
*Note: we have an old house with a door upstairs so in the olden days they could shake out the rugs.  Comes in handy for getting flying creatures in the house.

He climbs into bed with a humble sense of pride. I am so thankful that the man of the house takes care of those mannerisms around the house, or clearly I would spend the rest of my life under the covers in bed!

 

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I’m drawing the line

Ever just want to sleep at night, not be touch, not be crowded.  I experienced culture shock when the fiancee and I moved in together.  It meant I was sharing MY BED every night. (Yes I am living in sin).  I am the kind of sleeper who lives to sprawl.  I must lay on the right side of the bed, that’s my spot.  After almost a year of living together I finally got it back and I must say I have fewer restless nights.  However, I also have a tendancy of laying slightly diagonal.  The fiancee on the other hand likes to roll on his side towards the center and suffocate me in my sleep.  I like to pull the blankets up all the way to my chin. He likes to pull his feet out, and roll the covers down to about his chest. Which, I wouldn’t mind so much if he were sleeping on HIS side.

It’s been over a year of compromising our sides.  Last night my feet touched his as we were nestled in.  Every time things like this happens, it’s like a broken record of where the middle of the bed is.  He’s suggested several times to have a string hang down from the ceiling with a ball on the end or something, like some one would have in the garage to determine if the car is in as far as it should.  However, this is our bedroom, not the garage.  I refuse to have a string with a ball on it marking the middle.  My argument was with all the “drafts” in the bedroom, it’d forever be swinging and we’d still be arguing about where the middle is.

So at the ripe time of 11:34 PM, the fiancee hopped out of bed.  I laughed, cause I had a notion I knew what he was going to do.  He would put an end to this broken record of an argument, by grabbing a tape measure.  He measured the width of the bed (160″), we determined middle would be 80″ (Yes I went to school in New London). 

My bed is a mission style, with wooded beams along the headboard.  It just so happens there is a beam located at 80″ mark.  We actually had to measure several times to make sure we knew exactly which beam was the middle.  Finally, he scrounged for a neon post-it to mark the middle beam.  Yes, I have a neon green post-it in the middle on my bed.

You know what this means…war.  Since we now KNOW where the middle is, I will make sure he is aware of each and every time he crosses the line!

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I do! I do not?

Did you ever see Shrek 1, where the princess sends the donkey into the woods to find a blue flower with red thorns.  The donkey feverishly looks around “blue flower, red thorns, blu flower red thorns…man this would be so much easier if I wasn’t color blind.” That’s how I feel lately.

I’m engaged, but taking a break from wedding planning.  I keep hearing these horror stories of what men become when they get married…and I’m beginning to think, what am I setting myself up for. 

 Brent is an amazing guy, which in my experiences with men…he’s right up there next to god, minus all those magical powers.  But in all seriousness (which i will take my best attempt to be serious for the rest of this paragraph), he’s a pretty patient guy…and I am one of the MOST stubborn woman in the United States.  I’m also very indedpendent, and he doesn’t need to be with me all the time, which is nice cause I can breathe on my own, (except when I’m having an asthma attack).   He’s even open to travelling with me, extra credit for that! And for many other reasons that I’m not going to get into here he really is the man I should want to marry and spend the rest of my life with.

However, this time of year, something happens to every man in my immediate family and those in close contact.  They all go pretty much NUTS.  See it’s deer hunting, and my family likes to hunt, and that’s cool I can handle that.  However, it’s a little over the top.  My brothers and Brent have spent the last nine months preparing for this weekend, and now, they can’t even think about the aspects of daily living.  I’m pretty sure all personal hygiene hits the wayside this weekend.  They must breath in too much of that buck scent or something cause they are one card short of a full deck.  They have spent all this time planning for this weekend, yet they forget a few of the major details…like eating! I asked what they were doing for food, and I don’t know I think they are planning to eat grass.  When I offered to make a pot of chili, they were so excited…makes me wonder what they would have done if I didn’t make food. 

But here’s the part that worries me most.  Brent is talking about hunting the other night and says (no lie)

well I figure, since I’m marrying you I better buy a gun.”

and continues on with his hunting talk.  WOAH, back the hunting train up.  Should I ask why he needs a gun because he’s marrying me? At this point I’m feeling a little bit scared to be riding alone with him in the car, in the dark.  Is he planning to kill me?  Is he buying a gun for my protection? I’m not seeing the correlation to hunting. 

So I mention this odd comment to my brother, who responds with…

“Yeah he should.  Heidi that gun that he was looking at is such a good deal, and it’s a good gun.”

Does anybody else think tis is strange?  These men are crazy.  I’m getting slighlty concerned that there just might be shotguns going off at our wedding, you know since Brent is married to me I guess he needs a gun.  So can you see my fear in getting married now.  It’s not just the run of the mill wedding.  Brent wants to buy a gun, because we are getting married. 

Therefore, I do want to get married, but I do NOT want to get shot!

Note: since this conversation I did determine that Brent figured since we were getting married he would be hunting around here more.  He needs a special gun to hunt here and he doesn’t have one, therefore he needs to buy one.  He missed that middle step when explaining this concept the first time….details!

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