My Epiphany

Have you ever had one of those moments where something happened to make you feel much, much better about yourself? Some people call them epiphanies – a blinding flash, often of the obvious, that resets your life gyros so everything becomes, if not necessarily better, at least clearer.


About a week ago, a good friend of mine related to me the following story – in his words, approximately…

“So, the other day was my wife’s birthday and she opened her gift and stared. Now, let’s go back in time to two weeks previously. My daughter and I had a list of items my wife wanted for her birthday. This was a pre-approved list with colors, sizes, brands – in short, everything a husband of many years would need not to screw it up.

“While ordering the item, my daughter and I were like two lieutenants in a missile silo running a pre-launch checklist – item, check; color, check; size, check; size, double-check; brand, check; anything missing, check…or credit card” (his daughter has a very quick wit for a teenager, apparently) “So, we have the pre-approved list, we’ve run the checklist, it’s got two sets of eyes to verify the command sequence before the key is turned and the item purchased. Had any of these things not happened, I’m sure one of us would have had to shoot the other. But it all worked as advertised. So, now, let’s go back – she opens the gift, stares and says, “this is the wrong one.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll just exchange it…”

“No, you won’t. … Daughter….”

“No, it’s the right one, mom”

“Had I not had my daughter with me to verify this, I’m sure I would be blamed for this being the wrong item. In fact, I might have begun to second guess myself.”

Now, that story, as sad and emasculating as it is, would generally lead to think maybe this guy should give some serious consideration to gift certificates, but it isn’t an isolated case. To whit…

I’m walking in the base exchange at Lackland AFB, Texas today and I’m heading to the men’s room. About five paces in front of me are a couple who are also heading to their respective facilities. As the guy in front of me turns into the men’s room, he audibly mumbles, in that way that all men do, the following, “yes, mother!” I can’t prove it but I’m almost sure he was rolling his eyes.

Well, I did what anyone who had just witnessed such a scene would do – I laughed, out loud, and totally forgoing man-space rules and etiquette I took the station next to him and I was still chuckling. “Yeah, wait until you’re retired,” he said.

The man was, at most, in his early 50s so it’s not like he had 30 years on me or something. I have brothers older than this guy I’m sure.

“No, hey, it’s ok,” I said, “I’ve been married 20 years, I feel ya.” (which in retrospect is probably not the best choice of words in a men’s room, trousers down).

“You know what’s worse?” He says, “we’re living in a motor home now so I get to be with her all the time!”

I have no choice, I laugh again. As he turns to wash his hands he allows for a pause and says, “No, it’s all good. She’s really all right.”

Again, a good pause for effect.

“She lets me say that.” And he walked away.

I’ve never been so glad to be at a urinal because I would have wet myself.

Then, I realized, men are pretty much all the same and it’s not that we don’t care about what you want for your birthday or that we don’t listen to you.

We do listen. And what we hear is women changing their minds. So we don’t keep lists. Tell us what you want and that’s what you’ll get – because it’s just easier to shop for.

And there it was – my epiphany. Men aren’t whipped, we’re just lazy.