Red Green's Beginner's Guide to Women

by Red Green

  But don’t ever tell your wife that for the last ten years she was possessed by aliens from outer space. Unless you want to see some flying saucers.

  SEE YOU IN COURT

  Throughout the course of any relationship you’re going to have disagreements, and for the relationship to survive, you’re going to need to learn how to resolve your differences and how to arrive at fair and equitable solutions that treat each party with respect and make them feel that things are going to get better.

  Other than King Solomon, nobody has ever been born knowing how to do this. It’s a learned skill. They teach the art of negotiating at several colleges, for those of you who have time to go to college, and there are weekend seminars if you’re embarrassed about being older than the prof.

  But for my money, the most effective way to learn how to deal with a domestic dispute is to sit in the gallery at a small claims court. You need to listen carefully to the cases as presented by the plaintiffs and defendants. You’ll find yourself much better at reaching logical conclusions when you watch strangers argue than you are when you and your wife are having the disagreement. That’s because there is no baggage when strangers fight and you have no emotional attachment. You can even make a bit of a game out of comparing your verdict to the one ultimately handed down by the judge.

  But make no mistake, the main purpose of your visit is to study the judge and emulate his every action. Watch the way he focuses on each party as they present their case. Listen to the intelligent questions he asks. Observe as he expertly leads them to see the case in an objective light as he gives them a chance to discover who is at fault, what the damages are, and what would be a reasonable plan of restitution.

  These are the skills you want to take home with you. The ability to stay calm and unemotional and to judge the case on its own merits alone. Not on something that you’re still mad about that happened during the wedding reception involving your wife’s brother and a gallon of corn oil.

  You can learn a lot from a small claims court judge. How to be reasonable, how to be unbiased, how to uphold the letter of the law and, most important, how to fake being interested in anything that’s being said. That’s the real key.

  YOU NEED A REFEREE

  Verbal communication between a husband and a wife is a very complex issue. That’s because there are six different versions of each and every statement. They can be divided in the categories of Theoretical and Factual, with three versions in each category.

  In the Theoretical category, we have what you think you said, what you think you heard and what you think you think. On the Factual side, we have what you actually said, what you really heard and what you truly think. And the confusing aspect of these six versions is that you are wishing and hoping, and therefore programmed to believe, that the theoretical versions are correct. In our minds, what we think we said always dominates what we actually said. Even when we know what we actually said, we will deny, deny, deny because we don’t like it as much as what we think we said. And your partner is operating under exactly the same premise.

  Try to imagine how many millions of arguments are started when what he thinks he said doesn’t match what she thinks she heard. Is there any hope for a husband and wife to have successful verbal communication? No. Not without an objective frame of reference in the mix. When you and your wife are getting along great, you need to be alone. But when you’re having a serious argument, you need someone else there. Some person or authority that both of you accept as the arbiter of the truth. This is how marriage counsellors came to be. The fact that we can’t accept what we actually think or said or heard creates the need for someone who can.

  Sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t, but the simple concept of having an objective third party in on the conversation is really the main value they provide. When you’ve got a referee there, you’re going to try to make yourself look better—i.e., not stupid. The referee won’t care what you think you said or heard or think, they will only care about what you truly said or heard or think. And that will force you to do the same.

  Or maybe you could just record every conversation you have with your wife and then play it back when there’s a disagreement. But as soon as your wife realizes you recorded her, you’re a dead man, even if you’re right.

  So I recommend you find yourself a referee. Not a friend of yours and not a friend of your wife’s. Someone you both dislike equally. And don’t set it up like you’re blatantly looking for a ruling. Try to recreate the conversation that started the problem, but this time include the referee in the discussion and you will dramatically increase your chances of having a better outcome.

  Nine times out of ten, when the referee gives their opinion, you’re going to like what you hear. Or at least what you think you hear.

  THE FUTURE OF EVOLUTION

  Any anthropologist worth his sea salt will tell you that animals evolve based on their environment and behaviour. That’s how fish got wings and dogs got teeth and McDonalds got over thirty thousand franchises. Similarly, the human body has the amazing ability to morph over time so that it is better suited to what it’s being used for. This process is going to make relationships between men and women even more difficult as they evolve farther and farther apart. We all need to be aware of this issue so that we can change our behaviour and thereby minimize its effect. If we don’t do anything, here’s how I see men and women looking in another thousand years:

  Women

  Large, sympathetic eyes and huge, thick lips on expressionless faces as body adapts by producing its own collagen and Botox.

  Knee-length arms to allow for shopping bags on wheels to be pulled without bending over.

  Men

  Compound eyes to allow for simultaneous viewing of multiple television channels. Very small ears due to habit of not listening. Extension of lower jaw to allow snacks to be top-loaded.

  Large thumb with narrow tip and extra knuckle to allow for more efficient use of remote. Large, heavy butt so he can fall asleep at his desk without falling over.

  Beware of evolution—it could happen to you!

  MOVIN’ ON

  Everybody knows that about half of all marriages end in divorce. It’s not a happy situation, but if this happens to you and there is no hope of reconciliation, the most important thing for each of you is to find a way to move on.

  This is a major life change. It’s a milestone, where you have to put the past behind you and focus instead on what’s in front of you. Over the centuries, humans have built ceremonies around milestones like these—marriages, funerals, puberty, etc. It helps the people and their friends and relatives accept the new reality and find a way forward.

  So instead of just getting a divorce, I suggest you give it a special ceremony. It’s a big deal and it deserves a ceremony. It’s like a marriage, only backwards. At a wedding, you go in single and come out married. This one is the exact opposite. So you need to do it backwards. Start with the reception and end with the ceremony. And everything about it should reinforce the divorce theme.

  Don’t have it in your apartment—call a real estate agent and see if he can lend you a fully detached new listing. Have the dinner menu imply “divorce”—I suggest oysters on the half shell and a banana split. Let the guests know that every time they clink their glasses, you and your wife will stand up and give each other the finger. Once the speeches and bad jokes are done, have a divorce lawyer come up and perform the ceremony.

  Here again, I would suggest you model the presentation after the standard wedding vows. Just make a few minor changes:

  The Divorce Vows

  Lawyer: We are gathered here to unhitch these two hearts in the bonds of unholy divorce. If anyone present can show just and legal cause why they should stay married, let them pay my fee or forever hold their peace.

  (To the Congregation) Who takes this woman from this man?

  (A young, good-looking fitness trainer stands at the back of the room, smiles and winks at th
e lawyer. The lawyer winks back and turns to the couple.) John, will you have this woman removed as your awful wedded partner, as a joint tenant and tax deduction, as you return to the swinging single life?

  John: I will.

  Lawyer: Will you avoid her, dishonour her and generally ignore her, no matter how sick she gets, and, forsaking all STD warnings, be unfaithful to her for as long as you both shall live?

  John: I will.

  Lawyer: Jane, will you take this man for everything you can, to live in his current home while he resides in his car?

  Jane: I will.

  Lawyer: Will you badmouth him, ridicule him, distribute embarrassing pictures of him and, forsaking all others, reiterate each and every one of his inadequacies in the bedroom, for as long as you both shall live?

  Jane: I will.

  (John and Jane take off their wedding rings and hand them to the lawyer. He holds them up.) Behold these symbols of wedlock. The perfect circle of love, the unbroken union of these two souls. They’re toast.

  (He tosses the rings off to the side. The maid of honour catches them in a garbage can and hands both of them to the bride, who puts them in her purse.)

  Please lock eyes and repeat after me: I, John (Jane), reject thee, Jane (John), as my wedded partner, to halve and to hold, for richer (Jane) or poorer (John), in slickness or in stealth, to lust and to flourish, till death do its part. For as much as John, and especially Jane, have begrudgingly consented to this divorce, and have witnessed the same before what’s left of their family and friends, and have given and pledge their vendettas to each other, and have declared the same by removing their rings and sneering, by authority vested me by the State of Matrimony, I pronounce this couple to be separated in divorce. (To John and Jane) You may bicker.

  (John and Jane launch into bitter argument. Congregation joins in. Lawyer mingles, handing out business cards.)

  MYSTERY SOLVED

  For many years, the medical community and insurance companies have been stumped by the superior health, stamina and longevity of women. If you study physiology at all, you’ll find out that women have less muscle, less bone and more fat than men.

  Now, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but according to my doctor and my wife, who occasionally are the same person, fat is not a good thing. When was the last time any health-services person ever advised you to eat more cheeseburgers and fries rather than the yogurt and veggies you crave? Never.

  They tell you to look for “fat-free,” not “fat-laden.” So how can the people who have more natural fat—i.e., women—be healthier than the muscular folks—i.e., us?

  And they give birth! If I ever gave birth, I’d be lying down and whining about it forever. If it didn’t kill me, I would regret that. Members of the weaker sex, who have less muscle, less bone and more fat, who give birth by creating another person inside their bodies and then expel that person through an orifice of a totally inappropriate size, not only survive, but actually outlive their partners, who have all the strength and none of the work.

  How can that be? Nobody knows the answer, except me. But before I tell you, let me tease you a little bit. Have you ever been on a road trip with your wife and she has to go to the bathroom desperately and insists that you pull off the highway right now, even though you had planned to go another three hundred miles before stopping?

  If the car is overheating or you’re short on fuel or you have a soft tire, you’ll pull over in a flash, but for something as manageable as a bathroom break, you have a problem. Your first thought is, “Why didn’t she go at the restaurant where we had breakfast? Or the gas station where I filled up before we hit the freeway?” But you don’t say any of those things because you’ve said them before and the answers were unsatisfying and negatively impacted your enjoyment of the holiday.

  So instead, you sigh and say something under your breath and then pull over at the next exit. You then pull into a gas station, but rather than go to the pumps, you drive right up to the restrooms so that all of the other men will understand the situation and silently feel your pain. Then your wife will get out of the car, go inside to get the key because you refused to go into a strange gas station to ask for the key to the ladies’ washroom, just in case the clerk misunderstood your intentions and was armed. And as you sit in the car, you see your wife go into the station and then come out with the key and then go into the restroom—two, three, four—then come out with the key and return it to the station and then come back to the car and tell you we need to go somewhere else because that restroom was “icky.”

  Or how about the time you booked a cabin for the weekend and the two of you went up there for a romantic getaway and everything was great until your wife found out there was an outhouse rather than indoor plumbing, and that was the end of your weekend.

  Have you figured it out yet? No? Well, let’s work backwards. The reason women hate outhouses and “icky” restrooms is because they sit down to go to the bathroom. Most of the time, we don’t. So we don’t care how disgusting the seat is, we won’t be on it.

  And we’ve all heard those stories about snakes or other animals coming up through the hole of an outhouse. Well, a man will see it coming, whereas a woman is blindsided. And that’s why women have the superior life expectancy.

  It’s that simple. It’s all because they always sit down to go to the bathroom.

  Think about it: if you, as a manly man, go five or six times a day for two minutes each time, that’s twelve minutes a day, or eighty-four minutes a week. Spread that over a sixty-year period, and you’re on your feet 4,380 hours more than your wife is. No wonder you keel over first. And with all that muscle, you weigh more than her, which takes extra energy. It’s probably equivalent to ten thousand extra hours on your feet!

  So how do we level the playing field? Well, I don’t think it’s reasonable or desirable to ask women to stand up, so the obvious solution is to get men to sit down. We’ll live longer and we’ll live neater and dryer. I know this is a terrible blow to anyone who works in the urinal business, but this is one of those situations where you’ve got to look at the greater good. I think it’s a valid point and I’m asking for your vote. All those in favour, don’t stand up.

  LAST WORDS OF MEN

  • Don’t bother holding the ladder, I’ll be fine.

  • I’m not going to the doctor. I’m sure it’s just indigestion.

  • I’m not going to let a little snowstorm get in the way of my trip.

  • I fixed the brakes myself and saved a bundle.

  • Watch this.

  • Go ahead, give me your best punch.

  • Keep the gas can close by in case the fire starts to die out.

  • What does this button do?

  • That cop isn’t waving at me.

  • I’m pretty sure it’s not loaded.

  • I’m going to get that freezer out of the basement if it kills me.

  • So what if the turkey sat out on the counter for a few days? It tasted fine to me.

  • That’s not poison ivy.

  • I don’t think the tax department would ever come after a small fish like me.

  • I’ve never operated a 48-inch chainsaw before, but how hard can it be?

  • Don’t let that little light fool ya, we’ve got another fifty miles before we’re empty.

  • You know, Honey, in the last couple of years you’ve really packed on the beef.

  BUSTER’S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY

  Dear Diary,

  Tonight was our fiftieth anniversary. It was a great party and, thanks to an unexpected death, we were able to get the Legion on short notice. It was almost a 100 per cent turnout (see unexpected death above) and I think everybody had a good time.

  I can’t believe we’ve been married fifty years. It seems longer. And probably it should have been. Our son got up to the mike and toasted our fiftieth by announcing that he was fifty-one. Everybody laughed, but it was embarrassing to both me and my wife and his older
sister. On the other hand, I never really liked him all that much, so it was no big deal.

  Some of the guys got up and said a few things I didn’t really understand, but I appreciated them being there, probably because I didn’t understand what they said. My wife really seemed to enjoy the evening. Guests would ask her what fifty years of marriage is like and she’d get kind of misty-eyed and smile and then do that funny thing where she takes her finger and pretends to slit her throat.

  One of the kids had put together a video showing clips from our wedding and family get-togethers and that time when I pretended to be a crossing guard and then their mother bailing me out. The thing that struck me about all of the shots from the family parties was that everybody was smiling, except my father-in-law, but that was probably because he was footing the bill.

  But still we had a pretty darn happy family, and as I explained to my wife’s father, you get what you pay for. I even got up and said a few words, which I very rarely do, and I think everybody found out why. It’s funny how you can think you’re saying one thing and it comes out completely different. For example, I know my wife’s mother’s name is Eloise and I like her fine and I’ve never ever commented on her weight challenges, so why, out of the blue, I would refer to her as “Hippo” is beyond me.

  I don’t blame her for not accepting my apology. Which is why I didn’t apologize. And it’s not because I was drunk. I don’t drink like I used to. I sure miss that, but on the other hand, I’m alive, so that’s a pretty good trade-off.