Mate’s lives matter.
For those of us who are married . . . and who among us is not? . . . I am here to inform you that, ‘Mate’s lives matter’. You can take that to the bank . . . or not.
Without the sacred institution of marriage, much of the trauma, suffering, pain, aggravation, deprivation, consternation, pent-up anger, frustration, confusion and the shock & awe of the ‘Light & Sound Show’ would be missing from our lives. How on Earth could our wives get through the day without pointing to our teensiest, tiny flaws, including some of our more gross habits that are peculiar to the males of our species?
We few, we brave & courageous few . . . we men, are to blame of course. Wasn’t it we (us) who put these dames on a pedestal way back when? Yep, it was we (us) who looked at their Mother’s and despite what we saw and despite what our logical minds told us, thought the comely young gazelles whom we chose to woo, couldn’t ever, no not never, turn out to be like their Mommies. What this proves is that sexual urge trumps any and all male logic.
Look here Friend, I’m not a mean person and it is not my objective to cast aspersions willy-nilly at all wives. Some of my best friends’ wives are okay. Or at least, that’s how they seem. But, when one listens to some of one’s best friends – and one reads between the lines and notices the tiny beads of perspiration on the foreheads of one’s friends as they speak of their wives, in private of course - - one begins to comprehend the width & depth of the vast unexpressed problems being dealt with by one’s friends. Astonishing.
It boils down to a better understanding that wives really do realize that their ‘Mate’s lives matter’. They know damned well what life would be like for them if they were deprived of their opportunity to hurl cruel criticism at whatzisname 24/7, to play “Harpy-for-a-Day’ with cutting remarks, to feign hearing loss when Hubby comes home from a hard day working in the Salt Mines - and to let him know just how miserably he fails when compared to the Man-of-the-House next door. Yadda, yadda, yadda!
Well, I’m not the brightest bulb in the chandelier but I know when I’m well off. Make that, ‘dumb lucky’. I never go to the local Pub to complain that my wife doesn’t understand me because, she does. What’s more, I’m deathly afraid of the woman.
Come to think of it . . . ALL MATE’S LIVES MATTER. (Even those of Wives)
MORT KUFF © 5-28-2016