I am not henpecked. I am among the fortunate in that I have a wife who smiles at me and allows me to make my own mistakes, correct them, and not get told that she told me so. I do, however, get the occasional “look.” This is fair, for although she is among the blessed, I do not always epitomize the most sagacious qualities of manhood.
While I do my laundry, wash dishes, put the toilet seat down, cook, and can otherwise be entirely domestic, it has been noted that I am frequently disheveled and foul-mouthed.
The first relates to the ’60s. Then, a relaxed mode of attire was our norm. The latter refers to time aboard and more time spent at boatyards, coastal dives, dumps, and places of disrepute. I had a good old time.
But in any case, my wife has not had too much concern with my past. On the two occasions in which it intruded in the appearance of individuals from the shaded past, she thought it a minor aberration.
However, the other day, she read one of my posts on this blog. So, I needed to provide some explanations. There were some things she had never entirely understood before. Well, the past is the past. And I behave with a good bit of rectitude these days, aside from buying too many tools.
But to be safe, I better make some deletions and find a way to divert her to the cat’s posts. Nobody wants to get the “look.”
The “look” will come when you least expect it. You have been warned…
As someone whose worst maledicts at one point were “Good grief!” or “damn”, I was a US Army motion picture photographer in the early 1970s who was the only white guy on an otherwise all-African American photo team.
While they and I were good and decent people, we also were guys in a largely male society. I learned some new expressions from them that burn down the atmosphere when they slip out! And slip out they do, though I try to recall the pleasant fellow who tossed out a rare “damn”, and an even rarer “oh crap” (So there were three of them….) Good grief!
Oh no, not “the look!”