Waiting for Women


Published Online October, 2012

'Breathes there a man with soul so dead that never to his wife has said'... “WILL YOU PLEASE HURRY UP?”

During my adult life I have always found myself standing at the front door of the house WAITING; watching time ticking away and wondering what the hell she could be doing that is keeping her. This time it's the car keys she can't find. And it's my fault she can't find them! I should never have let her use the car. “Irresponsible,” I mumble to myself, although I know that is not the issue. It's those damned big purses women carry. Only slightly smaller than a duffel bag. You can pack them with enough stuff to fill the trunk of the car. Waiting for a woman is like being stuck in traffic. Your life is ticking away and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Yelling doesn't help. Obscene gestures don't help.

Men are much smarter than women, because they always know where the car keys are. They are in our POCKET. Wallet, keys, comb...all in the pocket!! Just reach in there and get 'em. No hunting, no lolly-gagging, no waiting, just smugly reach in the pocket and get 'em. That's why men are more time efficient than women. We have POCKETS! Ever seen a woman waiting at the front door for her husband?! Large purses should come with what I call a “stir stick.” Poke the stick into the purse and stir it around until what she wants comes to the top. Genius!!

Oh I know, women have more to do than men to get ready. She wonders about her hair. Is it right today? "No it's standing up on top. Where's the hair spray? More gray than I remembered.” “Will you hurry up?” he keeps yelling. “Got to make an appointment to get it coloured again. "Damned gray, starting to look just like my mother.” Eye makeup: “I know the eyebrow pencil is in the bottom of this makeup bag...but where? My husband likes the blue eye shadow best, but I like the green. It looks better with the black eye liner.” “Damn, the top came off my lipstick again and now it's all over the bottom of my makeup bag getting lipstick all over everything! Damn!” “Will you hurry up?” he yells again.

Sometimes men have to wait in front of the bathroom door long before they have to wait at the front door. Husband: “Honey, what are you doing?” Wife: “I'm fixing my hair and doing my makeup, but you can come in.” Husband: “I have to take a dump!” Wife: “I'll come out then...it'll be just a minute.” Husband five minutes later: “Honey, I've got an emergency here. Open the door!”

Women are on a different time clock than men. Minutes pass differently for them. Everything happens on their time and all else waits...but they smile and seem not to notice. Women just don't have the same sense of urgency to be on time and out the door that men have. Being late is not a sin as long as they arrive with perfect hair and make up, smelling good and leaving a trail of perfume wafting in the air behind them.

I have to tell you, I love women! I love my own girl the best but I am enthralled by them all. Maybe not so much skinny girls. A woman should have some meat on her bones. Her thighs should touch when she is walking down the street and her boobs should bounce. But lest I digress, body shape has nothing to do with women's time warp.

I've been in relationships with “meaty” women, a skinny Minnie, a tall woman and a short woman, black women and white women, and if they wear a wrist watch it is not for telling the time!

Early on in a relationship you can sometimes fool your girl into being at the front door on time by lying to her about the actual time of the appointment. Tell her it is a half an hour earlier than it really is. Hopefully a half an hour is enough. This only works a couple of times though. She'll catch on and wonder why she's early. “I could have found a dress that doesn't make me look fat,” she mumbles in your ear. “We had plenty of time.”

It's best not to answer accusations such as this. It is often wise for a man not to win arguments with his spouse. Just wait patiently by the front door for her to emerge, clutching her purse and triumphantly holding up the car keys like an Olympic torch. Good she's here! Now if I could just remember where the hell we were supposed to go...!

By Don DuPay