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  • Dan Marich

It's Exhausting to be a Woman

I'm sitting down to have a Monday power breakfast of Frosted Flakes and I remember the paper hasn't come yet, and I have nothing to read while I eat. I grab for my phone and realize I've read the entire internet already so that won't work. Desperate, I slide over the newest issue of Woman's Day sitting on the table and start thumbing my way thru it when I discover, it has to be exhausting to be a woman.

Now, I've been married for over 41 years, so there isn't too much I've not already heard or seen when women get together and talk. Like most men, I generally tune out their conversations, listening for key words only, like my name, or any dirt being brought up about someone I know. This has created, for men, a card file in our brains of topics with almost no details about those topics.


It is useless information that we file away with the tons of other useless information we gleaned over the years of watching TV and listening to music. Great stuff in a trivia contest and completely worthless in everyday life. Some of us remember more of this than others and we search them out when we have questions. Millenials will call out, "Alexa name the horse in Gunsmoke." Me, I call out, "Alexa, call Tom."


Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah, tough being a woman.


The first story I come to is an ask somebody who supposedly knows everything about this stuff a question and she answers you. The question this month, and I'm not making this up, is, "I have a friend that is constantly bragging about her child, how do I politely make her change the subject?" Three suggestions, and a third of the page later, help has arrived. I promise you, this is not a question you will ever hear from a guy, ever.


I then find myself reading a quick comment from Clara in Cleveland, who has taken the time to write in to comment that, she used to only wear red lipstick on the weekends, but since she wore it to work one day as an experiment she now feels more powerful and self assured in her career. I was in the business world for over 40 years and I can tell you that not once did I ever feel powerful at work, or for that matter did I ever even think about my power at work. Maybe I should have tried red lipstick?


Let me just say that I love women, I respect women, and I think women are some of the coolest people on earth, but how do they get through each day worrying about all the things they worry about? I am in awe every day with their ability to function with all the things on their minds.

Men, meanwhile, have scintillating conversations like, "Hey." "S'up." "Any more beer?" As soon as we get back home, our wives, or significant others, will ask us, "did you ask, FILL IN A NAME HERE, if his grandson, dog, mom, was OK?" "No." "Well what about how his wife, FILL IN A NAME HERE, is feeling after her surgery?" "No." "Well what the hell did you guys talk about for five hours?" "I don't know, sports stuff I guess."


This invariably leads to an angry huff and a room exit by her, and a confused cloud in our brains, as we try to understand why these questions may be of importance to anyone. For the record, men don't share. Sharing leads to feelings and feelings leads to tears and tears leads to ruined friendships, so we just avoid the whole area of conversations.


The proof that men are mindless can be found at the newsstands of America. Putting aside general news magazines that are marketed to the masses, like Time for example, you will find around 200 magazines marketed exclusively to women, and around six marketed exclusively to men. Of those six, three revolve around sports, two are about cars, and one is about women in almost no clothes. Nothing I would classify as deep thinking magazines.


It is God and Mother Nature's cruel trick that men and women need to mate in order to continue the human race. We have nothing in common. We have nothing to talk about with each other. We drive each other insane. And yet, like me and others, after 42 years we are still together trying to figure out what the hell happened?


Raise your hand if you've ever been talking to your wife, or husband, while you have both been in different rooms about a topic for fifteen minutes when you realize she, he, is talking about something you need at the store and he, or she, is talking about getting together with friends on Saturday.


More than likely she is thinking, what an idiot he is, and you are thinking, what an idiot she thinks I am and will this cost me a timeout? It's then the lightbulb goes on over your head and you understand how exhausting it must be to be a woman.

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