Been to battle lately? Conflict can actually be good for you. Criticism separates people, but conflict stimulates people. If you ignore things, they build up and get worse. You might as well fight the battle before you have to go to war.
A little boy asked his dad, “How did the war start?” “Which war?” asked his father. “The big war, how did it start?” “Well, it started when Germany invaded Belgium.” His wife interrupted, “That isn’t how the war started. It started when Germany invaded Poland.” He argued, “That’s not right; it was Belgium. I know my history.” She said, “You don’t know history. I’m the one who got you through college.” He said, “You couldn’t get me through anything; you’ve never been right about anything in your life.” They continued to argue back and forth as the boy watched. Finally his father looked at his son and said, “What was your question again?” The little boy said, “Never mind. I know how wars start. They start small but then build up.”
How do little battles lead to a big war? There are different strategies. The first is My Way. This is the most popular. “I am right. Do you agree with me, or are you wrong?” It’s like the lady who prayed at breakfast, “Please make my husband be right today because you know he will never change his mind.” This is the attitude of someone who is always right and must always win. Generally that battle has a winner and a loser.
People often use intimidation instead of negotiation. Their strategy is based on how they won in the past. This method is extremely attractive to males. Men like sports in which the object is to seriously injure the opponent. When you’ve won, you tend to use the strategy over and over.
Some women win by crying. If they don’t win, then they cry and cry again. Men buy things; if they don’t win, they’ll buy, buy again. These methods are inappropriate and neurotic, but they work. People use whatever works for them, whether or not it’s right or wrong.
When Penny and I were first married and we had an argument, I would pretend that I was a lawyer. I had exhibit A and exhibit B. Then I made one big point and looked at Penny and said, “The defense rests.” She looked at me and asked, “Do you know what Capital Punishment is?” I might have won the battle, but I was definitely headed for war.
One strategy for solving conflict is Your Way. At times it is appropriate just to acquiesce to the other person. Some things are not as important to you as they are to your mate. When we moved to Texas, I really wasn’t that concerned with the style of house and what the kitchen looked like. The only thing I wanted was a “split bedroom” model. The master bed and bath were on one end of the house, and the other bedrooms and bathrooms were on the other end. I knew I wanted my girls to be in their bathroom and not in mine. That’s all I cared about and I could yield on everything else such as wallpaper, kitchen, and so forth. It just wasn’t that important.
In a relationship, if you yield, you have to yield with a positive attitude. Some people yield, but do so with gritted teeth. One lady said that living with her family was like living in a foreign mission field, suffering for Jesus. “I give in. I give in. I’m a martyr.” You don’t need to be a martyr or a doormat. You don’t need to be Edith from All in the Family – the classic doormat. In one scene a friend tells Edith, “Of all the people I know, you’re the only one who has a happy marriage.” Edith responds, “Really? Archie and me? Thank you.” “What is your secret?” her friend asks. Edith says, “Oh, I don’t have a secret. Archie and me still have our fights. Of course we don’t let them go on too long. Somebody always says ‘I’m sorry,’ and Archie always says, ‘It’s okay, Edith.’” God put you together so that you can become more than you were when you were apart. At times you’ll need to speak up and at other times give up when something is not as important to you as it is to your spouse.
Another way to solve conflict is Half Way. This is the way most people try to deal with conflict. I give a little, you give a little, and we compromise. The solution is often quicker, but the conflict is sometimes still unresolved.
The last strategy for handling conflict is the Best Way. Make a “we” decision. Decide that together you can make better decisions than you can apart. That means Penny and I decide that we’re going to pray about any problem or decision and talk about it until we both agree on a solution. It may take a little longer, but it’s the smartest thing to do. If I had included Penny in all of my decisions, many things would have worked out better. God puts people together so that we will have another way of looking at things. The “we” decision becomes a good decision and a God decision because you’re getting input from both individuals. Some men don’t profit from this because of ego and pride. I ran across a bumper sticker that illustrated this attitude: “If at first you don’t succeed, do it the way your wife told you to.”
One soldier told Abe Lincoln during the war, “We need to pray that God will be on our side.” Lincoln said, “We had better pray that we are on God’s side.” God doesn’t change sides. So if you’re in a duel and you’d like it to be a duet, consider making it a trio. Get on God’s side and discover that God’s way is the best way.
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
Monday, May 30, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Cornbread and Buttermilk
My wife and I are from different backgrounds. Her father is from up north, and my family came from way down south. Also, Penny grew up wealthy, and I grew up poor. Her swimming pool wasn’t heated, but it was a different world. She had four baths, and I had four paths. One year our bathroom caught on fire and we were excited because it didn’t reach the house.
These differences affected our relationship even in what we ate. I didn’t know what I was eating the first few years of marriage, but men will eat most anything. I got nostalgic for my childhood and the foods I ate when I was growing up. I started thinking about cornbread. I wanted cornbread. A man’s ego is very big and he has a hard time sharing his needs. If I asked, “Honey, would you make me cornbread?” she might say, “no”. Men don’t handle rejection well, so I did what most men do. I dropped subtle hints.
We’d go to the grocery store, and I’d hang around the cornbread. I was sure that when Penny found me she’d know I wanted cornbread. But she didn’t know what I was thinking, and finding me she’d ask, “What are you doing?” I’d say, “I’m looking at cornbread.” She would just walk on by. I’d then say, “My goodness, look, Aunt Jemima Cornbread. She makes the best.” She had no respect for Aunt Jemima. I’m thinking I want cornbread! When a cornbread commercial came on the TV, I’d say, “Look, Honey, that’s cornbread,” which she ignored. Finally after about five or six years, I knew the only way to get cornbread was to ask for it.
One day I had one too many Diet Cokes and was a little carbonated, so I got up the courage to say, “Penny, would you make me some cornbread?” She said, “Sure.” That ticked me off because I had waited so long. Then she asked something that scared me. “What is cornbread?” I thought, “I’m in serious trouble here.” She did get my mother’s recipe and made it that day.
She met me at the door with a blindfold. Women do things differently. There are two ways to handle women, but nobody knows either one of them. They like surprises, celebrations, and candlelight. We had candlelight one night and I said, “Honey, what’s the big occasion?” It was the grand opening of the grocery store. She led me to the table blindfolded. “Okay, take the blindfold off.” I ripped that thing off, and I saw the cornbread. I said, “Honey, something’s wrong with the cornbread, you killed it. It’s got red stuff all over it; it’s bleeding. What happened to the cornbread?” She said, “Well, I knew you loved strawberry jam, so I put half a jar of strawberry jam all over your cornbread.” I said, “Oh, Honey, no. You ruined the cornbread.” Then I said, “You did make the cornbread. Next time don’t touch the cornbread. I need to show you how to eat cornbread.”
About a week later she called and said, “I’m going to make cornbread.” I said, “Don’t touch it after you make it. I’m going to the store and pick up a few things. I’ll show you how to eat cornbread tonight.” I got buttermilk and green onions on the way home. I got my big glass, and she said, “I have a glass of tea for you.” I said, “Be cool.” I put that big glass down and started pouring the buttermilk. She said, “Honey, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, when you buy milk, look at the date. That milk has curdled, it’s spoiled, and it’s no good.” And I said, “Honey, that’s buttermilk.” She said, “I don't care who makes it; it’s no good. Look at the date before you buy it.” I just kept pouring buttermilk and grabbed my cornbread and attacked it. I put the cornbread into the buttermilk. Penny put her hands over my daughter’s eyes (she was about three) and said, “Don’t you look at your daddy. Don’t you look at your daddy.” I took a little bite of green onion and I took a bite of that cornbread and buttermilk, and she said, “I’m nauseated; I have to go.” She left, but it was one of the best nights of my life. We’ve made a lot of progress since then. She can watch me eat buttermilk and cornbread without getting sick. If I had not communicated with her, I’d still be mad about cornbread. If you want something, you have to ask for it. And you, too, might have one of the best nights of your life.
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
These differences affected our relationship even in what we ate. I didn’t know what I was eating the first few years of marriage, but men will eat most anything. I got nostalgic for my childhood and the foods I ate when I was growing up. I started thinking about cornbread. I wanted cornbread. A man’s ego is very big and he has a hard time sharing his needs. If I asked, “Honey, would you make me cornbread?” she might say, “no”. Men don’t handle rejection well, so I did what most men do. I dropped subtle hints.
We’d go to the grocery store, and I’d hang around the cornbread. I was sure that when Penny found me she’d know I wanted cornbread. But she didn’t know what I was thinking, and finding me she’d ask, “What are you doing?” I’d say, “I’m looking at cornbread.” She would just walk on by. I’d then say, “My goodness, look, Aunt Jemima Cornbread. She makes the best.” She had no respect for Aunt Jemima. I’m thinking I want cornbread! When a cornbread commercial came on the TV, I’d say, “Look, Honey, that’s cornbread,” which she ignored. Finally after about five or six years, I knew the only way to get cornbread was to ask for it.
One day I had one too many Diet Cokes and was a little carbonated, so I got up the courage to say, “Penny, would you make me some cornbread?” She said, “Sure.” That ticked me off because I had waited so long. Then she asked something that scared me. “What is cornbread?” I thought, “I’m in serious trouble here.” She did get my mother’s recipe and made it that day.
She met me at the door with a blindfold. Women do things differently. There are two ways to handle women, but nobody knows either one of them. They like surprises, celebrations, and candlelight. We had candlelight one night and I said, “Honey, what’s the big occasion?” It was the grand opening of the grocery store. She led me to the table blindfolded. “Okay, take the blindfold off.” I ripped that thing off, and I saw the cornbread. I said, “Honey, something’s wrong with the cornbread, you killed it. It’s got red stuff all over it; it’s bleeding. What happened to the cornbread?” She said, “Well, I knew you loved strawberry jam, so I put half a jar of strawberry jam all over your cornbread.” I said, “Oh, Honey, no. You ruined the cornbread.” Then I said, “You did make the cornbread. Next time don’t touch the cornbread. I need to show you how to eat cornbread.”
About a week later she called and said, “I’m going to make cornbread.” I said, “Don’t touch it after you make it. I’m going to the store and pick up a few things. I’ll show you how to eat cornbread tonight.” I got buttermilk and green onions on the way home. I got my big glass, and she said, “I have a glass of tea for you.” I said, “Be cool.” I put that big glass down and started pouring the buttermilk. She said, “Honey, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, when you buy milk, look at the date. That milk has curdled, it’s spoiled, and it’s no good.” And I said, “Honey, that’s buttermilk.” She said, “I don't care who makes it; it’s no good. Look at the date before you buy it.” I just kept pouring buttermilk and grabbed my cornbread and attacked it. I put the cornbread into the buttermilk. Penny put her hands over my daughter’s eyes (she was about three) and said, “Don’t you look at your daddy. Don’t you look at your daddy.” I took a little bite of green onion and I took a bite of that cornbread and buttermilk, and she said, “I’m nauseated; I have to go.” She left, but it was one of the best nights of my life. We’ve made a lot of progress since then. She can watch me eat buttermilk and cornbread without getting sick. If I had not communicated with her, I’d still be mad about cornbread. If you want something, you have to ask for it. And you, too, might have one of the best nights of your life.
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Fidget While You Talk
Relationships can be tough. This week I was exasperated with Penny and said, “I was a fool when I married you.” She said, “Yes, dear, but I was too in love to notice.” I think sometimes that if Penny really loved me she would have married someone else. We’ve had our share of conflicts. We made a commitment when we were married that we would never go to bed angry, so we stayed up all night every night the first three months of our marriage.
Most of our conflicts involve communication. Unfortunately, the early part of my life was spent as a boy. Boys grow up fidgeting instead of talking. They are activity oriented. We grew up playing King of the Hill and Capture the Flag. We put on a helmet and knocked someone down. Men think a relationship is going great when they don’t have to talk.
Men like a no-huddle offense, all action. Women think a relationship is going great when the men in their lives have time to talk. Every night they seem to enjoy the huddle. Let’s be honest. Most women talk about general things. Women can just sit and talk. That’s very difficult for a man to do. He talks best when he’s spraying WD-40 or hammering. Men talk better when they fidget. Guys just have to fidget. That’s part of being a guy. Guys really never grow up. A five-year-old girl was crying. Her dad asked, “What’s the matter?” She said, “I just learned that I have to grow up, and I can’t be a little girl anymore.” He pulled her close and said, “Honey, let me tell you a secret. You have to grow up on the outside but not on the inside. I’m still a little boy inside, but don’t tell your mother.” She wiped her tears and smiled up at her dad and said, “I think she already knows.” Most wives know that guys never really grow up. Even when they grow up on the outside, they still play games like softball. That’s a legitimate fidget for older, graying guys. They just can’t seem to stop. Even when they hurt and ache and have to see the fidget doctors, the chiropractors, and the orthopedic surgeons, they can’t keep from fidgeting.
I was talking to a friend of mine. He had just bought a brand new Buick. It was loaded and had a remote control that opened everything. It turned on the lights, locked and unlocked the doors, opened the trunk, and turned on the alarm. It did everything with just the push of a button. He and his wife decided to take a trip in their new car, and she had all of her hanging clothes laid in the trunk so they wouldn’t wrinkle. They were neatly spread out. They stopped to get gas, and, with a full tank of gas, they got a free car wash. While in the car wash, my friend was killing time and decided to look at his remote. Men are men, and they like toys and gadgets and stuff, so he started to fidget with his new remote. He hit the wrong button and his trunk opened. Water and soap filled the trunk and washed his wife’s clothes along with the car. Two hundred miles down the road he finally got up enough courage to say something. He said, “Honey, do you see the humor in this yet?” She said, “No.”
Women don’t understand fidgeting like men do. Women understand talking and men don’t. Penny and I are working on a solution to this problem. She didn’t want to divorce me just because I was a man, and we are committed to growing old and breaking our hips together. That is, unless she doesn’t wring my neck first. I think we have found the answer to our problem. I love to play golf. God must have invented the game for men. I can fidget with a big stick, lots of them in fact, and I can hit something really hard. What a game! People ask me why I play golf. One reason is it is cheaper than Prozac. Another reason is that I can fidget. The golf swing lasts only about two seconds, so even if I hit the ball 100 times I’ve played golf for only 200 seconds. But it takes about four hours to play a round of golf. So what am I doing the other 14,400 seconds? I am riding around in a golf cart, drinking diet coke, and talking. That’s how men talk. We fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget and talk. Men can’t just sit and talk. We have to have a little fidget while we talk. Penny has now taken up golf. One reason is so that she can talk to me. It’s great. We fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget and talk.
Now that we have solved our communication problem we have another problem – competition. Men like to win. I think Penny understands that. Yesterday she made a putt that beat me on a hole, and the minute it went in she said, “Oops!”
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
Most of our conflicts involve communication. Unfortunately, the early part of my life was spent as a boy. Boys grow up fidgeting instead of talking. They are activity oriented. We grew up playing King of the Hill and Capture the Flag. We put on a helmet and knocked someone down. Men think a relationship is going great when they don’t have to talk.
Men like a no-huddle offense, all action. Women think a relationship is going great when the men in their lives have time to talk. Every night they seem to enjoy the huddle. Let’s be honest. Most women talk about general things. Women can just sit and talk. That’s very difficult for a man to do. He talks best when he’s spraying WD-40 or hammering. Men talk better when they fidget. Guys just have to fidget. That’s part of being a guy. Guys really never grow up. A five-year-old girl was crying. Her dad asked, “What’s the matter?” She said, “I just learned that I have to grow up, and I can’t be a little girl anymore.” He pulled her close and said, “Honey, let me tell you a secret. You have to grow up on the outside but not on the inside. I’m still a little boy inside, but don’t tell your mother.” She wiped her tears and smiled up at her dad and said, “I think she already knows.” Most wives know that guys never really grow up. Even when they grow up on the outside, they still play games like softball. That’s a legitimate fidget for older, graying guys. They just can’t seem to stop. Even when they hurt and ache and have to see the fidget doctors, the chiropractors, and the orthopedic surgeons, they can’t keep from fidgeting.
I was talking to a friend of mine. He had just bought a brand new Buick. It was loaded and had a remote control that opened everything. It turned on the lights, locked and unlocked the doors, opened the trunk, and turned on the alarm. It did everything with just the push of a button. He and his wife decided to take a trip in their new car, and she had all of her hanging clothes laid in the trunk so they wouldn’t wrinkle. They were neatly spread out. They stopped to get gas, and, with a full tank of gas, they got a free car wash. While in the car wash, my friend was killing time and decided to look at his remote. Men are men, and they like toys and gadgets and stuff, so he started to fidget with his new remote. He hit the wrong button and his trunk opened. Water and soap filled the trunk and washed his wife’s clothes along with the car. Two hundred miles down the road he finally got up enough courage to say something. He said, “Honey, do you see the humor in this yet?” She said, “No.”
Women don’t understand fidgeting like men do. Women understand talking and men don’t. Penny and I are working on a solution to this problem. She didn’t want to divorce me just because I was a man, and we are committed to growing old and breaking our hips together. That is, unless she doesn’t wring my neck first. I think we have found the answer to our problem. I love to play golf. God must have invented the game for men. I can fidget with a big stick, lots of them in fact, and I can hit something really hard. What a game! People ask me why I play golf. One reason is it is cheaper than Prozac. Another reason is that I can fidget. The golf swing lasts only about two seconds, so even if I hit the ball 100 times I’ve played golf for only 200 seconds. But it takes about four hours to play a round of golf. So what am I doing the other 14,400 seconds? I am riding around in a golf cart, drinking diet coke, and talking. That’s how men talk. We fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget and talk. Men can’t just sit and talk. We have to have a little fidget while we talk. Penny has now taken up golf. One reason is so that she can talk to me. It’s great. We fidget, talk, fidget, talk, fidget and talk.
Now that we have solved our communication problem we have another problem – competition. Men like to win. I think Penny understands that. Yesterday she made a putt that beat me on a hole, and the minute it went in she said, “Oops!”
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
Monday, May 2, 2011
Get the Details: Primary Communication 101
What do women want to know? Everything! My parents usually call on Saturday and talk for about twenty minutes. Penny always asks, “What did they say?” I say, “Uh, uh, they said…they are coming in April.” Penny says, “You talked twenty minutes, surely they said more than that.” “Well, they sure did. They said, uh…” I can’t think of another thing. I tell her, “It was just insignificant stuff, small stuff. It didn’t matter, I can’t even remember.” She’ll give me a look and say, “Okay.” Then the next day, somebody brings up something that my dad had talked about on the phone and it reminds me of what he said. So I’m in a group of people and I say, “Oh yeah, my dad said…” and launch into a story. Penny gives me a look. After the story she grabs my arm and says, “See, you tell the whole world everything and you tell your wife nothing, nothing, nothing.” That happens regularly.
I’m a man, so I decided to fix this problem. I’d had enough, and I was going to straighten out the situation. The next time my parents called, I wrote down everything they said, even every little insignificant thing. That way, when Penny asked what they said I’d be able to recite everything. I thought this would finally put her in her place. The next time my parents called, Penny and the girls were at the mall. (The mall has it all. One day I expect them to come home with the escalator just because it was marked “down.”) As we talked, I wrote down everything. The dog got into the tomatoes, the air conditioning bill was $235, everything. Then I just put it under my chair and waited for Penny to come home. When she came in, I didn’t say anything. I just waited. (You have to know when to hold them and when to fold them.) Finally Penny said, “Did your parents call today?” “Yes, they did.” “What did they say?” “Would you like to know everything they said?” “I'd like to know anything they said.” “I'll tell you everything.” I pulled out the paper and went through everything. The dog got into the tomatoes, the air conditioning bill, etc. I thought I had her good and she would never ask anymore. Finally, I got to the end, “They said goodbye and I said goodbye.” Penny was happy. She was smiling. Now she wants me to take notes every time my parents call.
You see, men don’t understand that women want details. But men aren’t into details. Penny and I visited a couple and on the way home Penny said, “Did you like that dress she had on?” “You talking to me?” (Most of the time, men bluff.) “Yeah, I liked the dress.” (But they always catch you.) “I didn’t think you liked that color of green.” “Oh, it was green? Well I guess I didn’t like it.” “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” “No. I don’t even remember she had on a dress.” “Did you like the curtains in the family room?” “Which was the family room?” “Did you like the tile on the floor in the kitchen?” I’m thinking, “I don’t have a clue.” “Did you like the taupe color in the living room?” “Taupe color?” I didn’t know there was a color called taupe. It’s not in my paint by color set. Is this an imported color or something? Does God know about this color? Men just don’t notice those things, and what we do notice we forget. That’s why there is instant replay for men; they have already forgotten. I don’t pay attention to the details. I can watch a rerun of Murder She Wrote and still not know who did it. We have to learn to pay attention because women want details.
Meeting the needs of a woman requires work. Typically a man will come home from work and his wife will say, “What happened today?” And he’ll say, “Nothing.” “Nothing? You were there from nine to six and nothing happened? Boy, they sure pay you pretty good for nothing.” Men cannot think of anything that happened at work. But a woman wants to know these things. When I did marriage counseling, I advised the men to write the details of what happened that day at work on a 3x5 card.
One time, a co-worker of mine was expecting a baby. I told my secretary, “Penny wants to know when Laurie has her baby, so let me know when the baby is born.” One day my secretary said, “Laurie had her baby; don’t forget to tell Penny.” I was excited because I could tell Penny something that happened. As usual, Penny said, “What happened at work today?” “Laurie had her baby.” “What did she have?” “She had a baby.” “They come in two kinds – boys and girls. What did she have?” “I don’t know; I didn’t ask.” But I’m a good husband so the next day I asked my secretary what Laurie had. Then I told Penny, “Laurie had a boy.” She said, “What did they name it?” “They named it a boy’s name.” The following day I told Penny, “Laurie named the baby Billy.” She said, “How much did Billy weigh?” “Billy was a fat baby.” You get the idea. Free advice: if someone has a baby at work, find out all the details. It's not enough to know that she had a baby.
To a woman intimacy means “into-me-you-see.” So, guys, you have to talk to her. Tell her your hopes, fears, and dreams. At least tell her where you went for lunch today. And, ladies, keep it simple please. Stick to primary colors.
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
I’m a man, so I decided to fix this problem. I’d had enough, and I was going to straighten out the situation. The next time my parents called, I wrote down everything they said, even every little insignificant thing. That way, when Penny asked what they said I’d be able to recite everything. I thought this would finally put her in her place. The next time my parents called, Penny and the girls were at the mall. (The mall has it all. One day I expect them to come home with the escalator just because it was marked “down.”) As we talked, I wrote down everything. The dog got into the tomatoes, the air conditioning bill was $235, everything. Then I just put it under my chair and waited for Penny to come home. When she came in, I didn’t say anything. I just waited. (You have to know when to hold them and when to fold them.) Finally Penny said, “Did your parents call today?” “Yes, they did.” “What did they say?” “Would you like to know everything they said?” “I'd like to know anything they said.” “I'll tell you everything.” I pulled out the paper and went through everything. The dog got into the tomatoes, the air conditioning bill, etc. I thought I had her good and she would never ask anymore. Finally, I got to the end, “They said goodbye and I said goodbye.” Penny was happy. She was smiling. Now she wants me to take notes every time my parents call.
You see, men don’t understand that women want details. But men aren’t into details. Penny and I visited a couple and on the way home Penny said, “Did you like that dress she had on?” “You talking to me?” (Most of the time, men bluff.) “Yeah, I liked the dress.” (But they always catch you.) “I didn’t think you liked that color of green.” “Oh, it was green? Well I guess I didn’t like it.” “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” “No. I don’t even remember she had on a dress.” “Did you like the curtains in the family room?” “Which was the family room?” “Did you like the tile on the floor in the kitchen?” I’m thinking, “I don’t have a clue.” “Did you like the taupe color in the living room?” “Taupe color?” I didn’t know there was a color called taupe. It’s not in my paint by color set. Is this an imported color or something? Does God know about this color? Men just don’t notice those things, and what we do notice we forget. That’s why there is instant replay for men; they have already forgotten. I don’t pay attention to the details. I can watch a rerun of Murder She Wrote and still not know who did it. We have to learn to pay attention because women want details.
Meeting the needs of a woman requires work. Typically a man will come home from work and his wife will say, “What happened today?” And he’ll say, “Nothing.” “Nothing? You were there from nine to six and nothing happened? Boy, they sure pay you pretty good for nothing.” Men cannot think of anything that happened at work. But a woman wants to know these things. When I did marriage counseling, I advised the men to write the details of what happened that day at work on a 3x5 card.
One time, a co-worker of mine was expecting a baby. I told my secretary, “Penny wants to know when Laurie has her baby, so let me know when the baby is born.” One day my secretary said, “Laurie had her baby; don’t forget to tell Penny.” I was excited because I could tell Penny something that happened. As usual, Penny said, “What happened at work today?” “Laurie had her baby.” “What did she have?” “She had a baby.” “They come in two kinds – boys and girls. What did she have?” “I don’t know; I didn’t ask.” But I’m a good husband so the next day I asked my secretary what Laurie had. Then I told Penny, “Laurie had a boy.” She said, “What did they name it?” “They named it a boy’s name.” The following day I told Penny, “Laurie named the baby Billy.” She said, “How much did Billy weigh?” “Billy was a fat baby.” You get the idea. Free advice: if someone has a baby at work, find out all the details. It's not enough to know that she had a baby.
To a woman intimacy means “into-me-you-see.” So, guys, you have to talk to her. Tell her your hopes, fears, and dreams. At least tell her where you went for lunch today. And, ladies, keep it simple please. Stick to primary colors.
http://www.freecomicbelief.com
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