Men Should Have Stayed On Mars

Men. They speak a different language. They thrive in a different atmosphere from us. They drain us of energy. And I’m quite sure they experiment with us by testing our nerves. Yes. men are from mars. Complete aliens. They should’ve stayed there.

Saturday. A day that most look forward to for fun time, down time, travel time or even opportune time. For me, it was the latter. Considering I have gained great momentum in my tidying and purging from our home, I was up early and thriving. Two more consignment shop loads out the door, three Goodwill loads and 30 bags of garbage. All from 2 bedrooms and a walk-in closet/bathroom. Our daughter helped sort clothes while multitasking and catching up on her PJ Masks episodes. That’s my girl.

I took a break to run to the store for groceries and brought the littlest with. My guy was dying from another round of man flu. I think this is his fourth round of it just this year unless it just never ends. By the time I got back, unloaded the little and the groceries from the car and put things away, I realize most of my ingredients are missing for lunch. Are you kidding me? It was 11:00 a.m. and he devoured a giant snack after I offered him breakfast that he declined. So now he’s not hungry for lunch. Because he ate nachos made with three cups of cheese. Three cups! There was one cup left over for a recipe which I needed two. Also gone were the veggies for lunch. Another part of his snack.

He sat on the couch some more and then tried to nap in the same location. Which was in the middle of my next project area. I planned on taking down the Christmas Tree. Instead of napping in a bed somewhere away from my construction zone, he chose to fuss about till he seemed almost annoyed that I was making use of my day.

He continues the rest of his day watching reruns of M.A.S.H. (I’m still struggling to get the theme song out of my head.) while I back up computer files and complete dinner with ingredients from a second run to the store. Again I was accompanied by my little assistant shopper.

Exhausted but feeling accomplished, I tell my guy that I’m rewarding myself with a soak in our tub. He has the audacity to ask if I can take our daughter up with me so she can bathe with me too. Are you f***ing crazy?!! I scream silently in my head while forcing a calm, “I think this is just going to be some ‘me’ time.” By now I’m sure he can feel the darts I have hurled his way with my eyes. He has to! But his reply is, “Well hurry up with your bath.” I take this as a dare. I’m sure you can guess how quickly I soaked and rushed back to our child. Hurry. My. Ass.

I exist with this man. We are committed to each other. We attempt communication. We set goals. Yet instead of being united, I feel stranded. As if I’m on Mars. No air. No water. No nourishment. Drained.

Saturday was not a unique, stand alone day. Many days in our house are like this. The moments where I feel everyone else stands still while I run circles around them. Okay, I can play the sick card for him. He felt under the weather. But I know this is more played up than down. I know some of his bitch moves.

So in the 21st century, why is it we find ourselves falling trap to theses very gender specific roles where mom come in with her superhero cape and saves the day with laundry under one arm and meal prepping with the other? Even when we clearly reach out to our partner, what we say isn’t what is heard. So how do we speak Martian without creating insecurities for either party? How can two people with similar goals be so fundamentally different?

I know that in my lifetime I will never have the answer. Unless the appropriate answer is because we are the way we are. And I go about what makes me happy and so does he and hopefully somewhere along the line we find ourselves happy at the same time in the vicinity of one another.

We may be imperfect humans but we are can strive to be perfect aliens.