One of my friends called me the other day to tell me she’d
just bought a new swimsuit for her upcoming trip to Florida. When she tried it on for her husband and
asked him how she looked, his comment was, “You don’t look that bad.”
All I can say is the poor man sure has a lot to learn about
women. He probably thought he was giving his wife a compliment, but what he
doesn’t understand is we women hardly ever hear things the way men want us to
hear them.
I mean, if a man told me, “You don’t look that bad,” what
I’d actually hear is, “You don’t look that good, either!”
My friend’s phone call made me start thinking about all of
the things my husband used to say to me, meaning one thing, and how I’d
interpret his words to mean something entirely different. To illustrate my
point, consider the following examples:
HE’D SAY: “Is this a new recipe for pot roast? It tastes different tonight.”
I’D HEAR: “Why the heck did you have to mess around
with the pot roast? I liked it just the
way it was!”
HE’D SAY: “Looks like you have a little zit there,
popping out on your forehead.”
I’D HEAR: “Ohmigod! You have a hideous, disgusting
growth on your forehead that looks like a third eyeball! If I were you, I’d cut my hair into bangs to
hide it!”
HE’D SAY: “Thank you for the shirt, sweetheart. It’s too nice to wear to work, though, so
I’m going to save it only for special occasions.”
I’D HEAR: “That’s the ugliest shirt I’ve ever
seen. And if I have my way, the special
occasion will be my funeral!”
HE’D SAY: “Is that new makeup you’re wearing?”
I’D HEAR: “You have so much paint on your face, it’s a
wonder people on the street aren’t stopping to ask you if the circus is in
town.”
HE’D SAY: “Have you had the oil in your car checked
lately?”
I’D HEAR: “If I didn’t remind you to get your oil
checked, you would wait until it looked like black molasses and the engine
burst into flames before you realized something was wrong…because you know
absolutely nothing about cars!”
HE’D SAY: “There’s nothing good on TV tonight.”
I’D HEAR: “There are no shows that contain half-naked
women, bloodshed, zombies, super heroes or car chases, and I would rather have
all my chest hairs plucked out with tweezers than be forced to watch one of
those mushy shows you like.”
HE’D SAY: “You’re looking good! Your diet is really paying off!”
I’D HEAR: “Your butt doesn’t look like the back end of
a Greyhound bus any more. It’s more SUV-sized now.”
HE’D SAY: “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of that
harmless little spider!”
I’D HEAR: “It’s only the baby. The mother is 10 times
bigger and is still lurking somewhere in the house. She’ll probably climb down
the front of your nightgown while you’re sleeping tonight and will inflict a
bite that will cause you to puff up like a bright red version of the Michelin
Man.
HE’D SAY: “Let’s go out to eat. You pick the
restaurant.”
I’D HEAR: “If it’s any place other than somewhere
where I can get a greasy burger and fries and not have to pay more than $20 for
the total bill, then I will complain throughout the meal and also probably will
embarrass you – like the time I was served squab at a wedding and commented
that it looked as if someone had killed Heckle and Jeckle.”
HE’D SAY: “I don’t know if I can make the party this
Friday night because I might have to work overtime.”
I’D HEAR: “I will volunteer to do every job at work,
even scrubbing urinals, just to get out of going to another one of your
friends’ boring parties.”
HE’D SAY: “Well, I kind of had my heart set on us
going up to a cabin in the mountains for our vacation this year, but if you
really want to take day trips and visit the doll museum and the flower show
instead, then that’s what we’ll do.”
I’D HEAR: “I REALLY want to go to the doll museum and
flower show!”
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