Day 125

War of the Roses, The French Paradox and striking a balance toward Gender neutrality.

Ok, I am going to let my Redneck peek out from beneath my collar for a bit this afternoon, so hold onto your hats (preferably the 10 gallon kind).

Much is made over the French paradox.  I have certainly mentioned it in prior posts, but I think it worth revisiting for a moment because a visit to the local "supercenter" produced a moment of reflection that I believe is worth sharing.  The paradox is this:  How does a culture that consumes so much rich food, smokes so many cigarettes and drinks so much booze stay so relatively thin?  The answer is that this isn't in fact the "REAL" French paradox at all. The REAL French paradox is:  How does a "man" prance around a shopping mall in a pair of Wranglers while carrying a murse and not get the shit kicked out of himself in the parking lot?  Ever seen the movie "Broke Back Mountain"?  Didn't think so, but why?  It's because the world isn't ready for gay cowboys.  Where I come from, if you have the walnuts to wear a pair of Wranglers, you better have a can of Skoal about your person at all times and prefer fighting to shopping.  Why can't we leave the old west alone?  Don't get me wrong, I have no prejudice against the gay community.  In fact, they are generally wonderful people with an open and accepting outlook on life.  An outlook that I appreciate.  An outlook that more of us should emulate.  I can't stand blind hatred in the name of religion and come from a place where many that call themselves "cowboys" are uneducated pricks that aren't willing to accept another man's lifestyle when it has no bearing on his own.  I don't believe, however, that fellers ought to be sword fighting in the bunkhouse till wee hours of the morning.  There are chores to tend to for God's sake.  Cowboys are a dying breed and should be left to their ways.  No need to modernize it with matching accessories and a neckerchief.  Only guy to ever pull that off was Gene Autry and I will be damned if we soil his good name.  So, lets do those few still riding the range a favor and let them have their own brand of clothing.

This is all a very elaborate way of saying that I ain't gettin along with the Mrs.  Actually that is not true, we are getting along just fine, but being a family that has essentially turned traditional gender norms upside down I feel the need to keep some things sacred.  I am not of the opinion that a woman's place is in the kitchen and my wife and I are equals in every way.  That is not to say that my liberal dose of testosterone doesn't make me more suited for certain tasks.  I think my wife would agree.  Ask her when the last time she killed a mouse was.  She screams and retreats for high ground at the mere sight of beady little eyes.  She can't build a straight line of fence to save her soul and I couldn't put a hem in a pair of pants if you put a gun to my head.  That isn't to say that either of us is incapable of learning these tasks, we have just come to a silent understanding that we will each let each other believe that we need each other for these jobs and leave it at that.  Are they gender specific?  Perhaps.  They are so because of our history.  Not hers and mine, but mankind's.  She and I have blurred the hell out of the traditional lines but have still retained certain customs out of convenience.  I don't want to sew and she is terrified of mice.  It all works out quite nicely and we find that perfect balance in our daily lives.  She has a genetic need to feel feminine at times, and sometimes my DNA requires me to pound my chest like I have a say in the direction of our lives.  The truth is somewhere in the middle, but we each have an uncontrollable need to be a Woman and a Man and I don't see anything wrong with that.  Being Mr. Mom is a treat and carrying on with the domestic affairs rarely raises much of a fuss out of me, that is of course until my wife starts to try and place traditional labels on our life.

Over dinner, we had a discussion about certain tasks that needed to be completed for our pending move and I inquired as to why I was put in charge of appliance purchases, she commented that the "house was my domain".  After composing myself and wiping the mascara from my teary eyes I leveled the playing field a bit and asked why I didn't have a fancy new Audi SUV like the rest of the mom's at the school drive.  Their husbands love them enough to buy them a nice grocery-go-getter, so why didn't I get the same?  Once again we were back to 50/50, striking that awkward balance of "his and hers" duties in an attempt to teach our youngsters a life without gender expectations while still making them manly men.  If we can manage to keep it together, they will certainly chose a spouse that is their equal and if they are lucky will find that pairing that is the white to their black.  I firmly believe that opposites attract and the Yin/Yang component of our lives is what makes us work.  I am strong where she is weak and she is strong where I am weak.  Together we can conquer the world.  Apart we are lost and hopeless.  At least I hope that is the way she looks at life.  Can't be for sure though, that chick is crazy.  Fortunately I am quite sane, so it all works out in the end.  I would imagine if she is reading this, her cheeks are quite red in anger, so I will quit while I am ahead.  I love you dear, and I will have dinner on the table when you get home.  I promise!  Don't be late though, I have a mani/pedi at 6.  Until tomorrow.