How to keep a man, probably
Someone posted an article from a 1950’s book, giving tips on how to keep your man happy. It’s AWESOME. As ridiculous as it may seem while we are in the midst of a continued push for accomplishing our combined misunderstanding of feminism post-Spice Girls, it’s worth noting that there was a very low divorce rate back in the fifties; and certainly no programmes like Jerry Springer or Jeremy Kyle. So perhaps in many ways it all makes some sense? I don’t know, let’s just have a read:
Let’s go through some of the points and see how well we score in 2017.
Have dinner ready
Here, they tell us that the night before we should plan a meal for the next day. I think I have this covered. When I had a boyfriend once, I did all or most of the following:
Popped to Iceland to buy a shit load of microwave meals.
Made my own green smoothie.
Could phone and order a ‘Doms’.
Boiled the kettle for a noodle pot.
Ordered his fave from the local Chinese.
Served him a plate of ice cubes.
Maybe some of those were not acceptable back then, and that’s why I’m single now. So therefore if you live with your spouse maybe you should whip up a fancy gourmet meal and he won’t be a moody prick when he comes home. Seems logical in many ways.
The only argument you could make is that if you both work a 9-5 he can damn well cook one of the days too, as you’re not his real mum. And if you’re on hunger strike because he went out with his friends and didn’t come home, well what happens then? I’m confused by this one. Let’s move on.
Here we are instructed to take 15 minutes’ rest in preparation for his homecoming. For me, this usually turned into a two-hour nap, which is maybe why I’m single.
It also tells us to be a little gay. I think that this does not mean you should get round a hooker and put on a lesbian show for him. I Googled it, and apparently “be gay” means “be happy”. Makes sense, his boring day may need a lift (which is code for blow job).
A ribbon in your hair is cute and all, but not exactly sexy? Personally I’d wait for him to arrive wearing just some nipple tassels and I’d learn how to make them swirl in opposite directions. That’s if I managed to wake up after my rest time.
Clear away the clutter
To be fair, when I lived with someone I use to be super tidy. It’s my OCD. My Dyson was more of a partner to me than my partner.
Prepare the children
Yes, dress them each night as though they were going to church.
Minimise all noise
Here we see it’s easier not to speak unless you’re going to tell him you’ve won the lottery (in which case I’d suggest not telling him and just fckin off), but you can’t complain because he’s just heard loads of people complaining (which he was paid to do), so avoid all real life. If you’ve run over the neighbour’s Chihuahua, just don’t tell him. Personally I can’t stay quiet in someone else’s company unless I’m on my phone, so I guess when he comes in just go on your phone.
Make him comfortable
Here, it seems we are pretty much told to put him to bed instantly the moment he walks in through the door. Wtf is he, ten? If he comes in at 6pm and you’re putting him to bed at 6:15pm, frankly it just seems mean. And this is from personal experience. I remember when I was grounded once, I was like six and I’d cut off all my best friend’s Barbie’s hair because I was having a lesbian phase and I got grounded for it. It was the height of summer and I’d been sent to bed at like 4pm and all the kids and my brother were playing gaily in the streets below. I remember watching them, forlorn, from my room (but not regretting making Barbie gay, I was always ahead of my time); so for me that seems like a punishment.
Listen to him
Let him preach about football and beer and what he read in The Sun. Or if you have a better standard of boyfriend, let him talk North Korea, Bitcoin and discuss whether pilots really fly the planes or if it’s all done by computer. All the while you can sing Britney songs in your head. Telling him about the huge credit card bill can wait. Until after sex. Or preferably during.
Make the evening his
Here, we are informed that we should not complain if he wishes to take us out to dinner. Wait, what? I can’t even get a guy to take me out to the fckin Whoops! (discount for damaged items) aisle in the big Asda (Walmart). So yes, I’ll not be complaining. I’ll be waking up because I’ll clearly be dreaming.
Try to make your house zen. Oh ok this I can do. I think this means permission to throw out all his shit, including his Xbox. Then have the bastard build a koi pond and zen area for all his spiritual shit. Only, no guys I know are spiritual, so it will be a waste of time. Still, all that hard work building the thing will keep the prick out of the house a while, so it all works out well in the end.
Ok so I think I’ve got most of this down. Now I just need to find a man to lock down….