[QUOTE=lowbrass]
The problem with these books that purport to explain the differences between men and women is that women read them, and then have all sorts of expectations about how men are supposed to behave. I dated a woman who happened to have done very well for herself and had somewhere around 10 times as much money as I have. I naively thought that wouldn’t be a problem. But after dating for several weeks, picking up the check every time we went out, and having her not offer to pay even once, not even for half, I finally asked if I was going to always be paying for everything. (I didn’t want her to pay for everything; I just thought it would be nice for her to offer maybe once or twice.) Her response was that I shouldn’t want her to pay because then I would feel “emasculated”. Listen honey - let me worry about whether I’m feeling emascuated or not.
I don’t need people telling me how I’m supposed to feel when I don’t fit into the stereotype of what some pop psychology author thinks a man is.
[/QUOTE]
And I don’t fit into the stereotype of what you think a woman is, either.
Books, schmooks. My ex-husband based all his expectations on what he’d seen on sitcoms his whole life. As the wife, I was expected to get passive-aggressive if he forgot what movie we saw on our first date. When it turned out I was the one who forgot what movie we saw, he was beside himself.
As the wife, I was supposed to harrass him endlessly that I wanted to go to the opera. He had quite a few expectations along these lines, all based on pop culture.
Worst of all, he was the one who was always pulling the “If you don’t know why I’m mad, I’m not going to tell you” trick. And answering “nothing” when I asked him what was wrong. sigh
My friend (to his wife): Billy’s having a bachelor party; the guys are going to a strip club.
Wife: Oh.
Friend: You don’t want me to go?
Wife: It’s not that I don’t want you to go, I just want you to not want to go.
[QUOTE=BwanaBob]
My friend (to his wife): Billy’s having a bachelor party; the guys are going to a strip club.
Wife: Oh.
Friend: You don’t want me to go?
Wife: It’s not that I don’t want you to go, I just want you to not want to go.
[/QUOTE]
Makes perfect sense to me. (Then again, I cry at concerts.)
[QUOTE=bluethree]
Books, schmooks. My ex-husband based all his expectations on what he’d seen on sitcoms his whole life. As the wife, I was expected to get passive-aggressive if he forgot what movie we saw on our first date. When it turned out I was the one who forgot what movie we saw, he was beside himself.
As the wife, I was supposed to harrass him endlessly that I wanted to go to the opera. He had quite a few expectations along these lines, all based on pop culture.
[/QUOTE]
Your story reminds me of an old Love, American Style episode in which a young executive woos his secretary with song and dance because everything he knows about pitching woo he learned from romantic musicals. She manages to convince him that life is not a romantic musical, but after they walk away, all the characters in the background start singing and dancing.
This may hinge on alternate definitions of wrong and nothing. Something is wrong if he can’t fix it. Maybe he had a bad day. Nothing wrong there, because the day is over. Nothing sometimes means nothing I want to talk about right now. Sometimes it means nothing for you to worry about.
[QUOTE=bluethree]
Books, schmooks. My ex-husband based all his expectations on what he’d seen on sitcoms his whole life. As the wife, I was expected to get passive-aggressive if he forgot what movie we saw on our first date. When it turned out I was the one who forgot what movie we saw, he was beside himself.
As the wife, I was supposed to harrass him endlessly that I wanted to go to the opera. He had quite a few expectations along these lines, all based on pop culture.
Worst of all, he was the one who was always pulling the “If you don’t know why I’m mad, I’m not going to tell you” trick. And answering “nothing” when I asked him what was wrong. sigh
[/QUOTE]
Hey, it’s better than my ex whose expectations must have come from porn…
at least women in sitcoms eat stuff that’s not on other people’s bodies.