Everything you think a woman doesn’t know? Oh, she knows it.
Whether or not we let you in on that little fact, be aware that everything you think you can hide from your Lady you absolutely cannot. We are observers. We are analyzers. We are empaths. We are perceptive and detail-oriented. And the suspicion of our male counterparts is innate – we are born protective (think “mother lioness”) and, I would say, just as territorial as our lesser-halves (ha.).
Look, if we’ve decided to be with you it’s because we think you’re the best. In whatever way is most important to each individual woman (romance, stability, wealth, practicality, attraction), you beat out all your competitors. You had the flashiest feathers, the sweetest song, the most prevalent battle scars.
Congratulations: you won! But don’t flatter yourself, it’s just nature. In the same way that female animals judge the available gene-pool, thus do we. Though for us it becomes a bit more complex than these physical factors, we too are animals and will protect our property accordingly.
Don’t balk at the word. It’s how you think of us, isn’t it?
Much of what men try and hide from their women is harmless. Of course there are more grave situations and hurtful offenses, but what I find my husband most tries to hide from me is something silly, say, eating an unhealthy snack. What’s even more ridiculous than the fact that he tries to hide it is the fact that he thinks I give a d@mn. If I, then, point out that he’s got a bit of chocolate icing on his cheek (undoubtedly from devouring the sweet rapidly to avoid detection), he accuses me of “controlling” him.
Next time I’ll just let you walk around with sh*t on your face.
But, no, really, I don’t understand why it mattered to begin with. Why do men feel the need to hide things (big and small) from their women? Why do they feel the need to be dishonest? Moreover I feel this childish dishonesty when it doesn’t matter makes the situation so much worse when it does.
Let me explain myself. I come from a situation where, at times, this dishonesty has been more profound. In coming to terms with my husband’s past betrayal (not regarding sex – we have never had that issue), these small bouts of dishonesty have made our healing progress much more slowly. We can’t get past the big things because he keeps reminding me with all of these stupid little things. It seems like every time we take a big step forward, he forces me to take a few steps back.
Again, this causes much discord between us. I see his actions as dishonesty, and he sees my awareness of them as controlling. What he can’t seem to comprehend is that I am not asking him not to do certain things or even to be “required” to announce that he is doing them (I am not his mother), but just to do anything and everything openly. Like I do.
I’ll refer again to the sweets. It’s a silly example, truly, but it serves well for my discourse. Now, if I’m sitting in front of the computer, and he is around the corner three steps away from me in the kitchen, it is normal that I will hear a rustling of plastic packaging or the microwave going off. I am not trying to hear him; I cannot turn off my ears. If he comes into the room and, as I mentioned prior, has a bit of frosting on his face or powdered sugar unnoticed on his shirt should I not mention it? Oftentimes I don’t. But if I look up at him, he becomes hyper-paranoid and defensive without me even saying anything. Which, to me, implies guilt. But I don’t get it. Guilt over what?
Moreover, I should not be treated with disdain because I am observant and aware of my surroundings. If you have some sort of complex that does not allow you to openly eat sweets or be really interested in what the Housewives of New Jersey are doing, that is not my fault. Nor is it my problem. These are some deep-rooted issues with your own masculinity, your body, your sexuality – your mother. I don’t know. But it has naught to do with me. I don’t know. Get a therapist.
Come on, boys: Work your sh*t out.