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May 9th 2008

Him & Her:
Who’s Keeping Score?
by Nancy and Dan Sapir

HIM: I used to think it was just her, until I started talking to other guys about it. It’s got nothing to do with age, although she got a little closer to 60 last month. She has a mind like a trap and a memory like an elephant, except when it comes to this.

Every time we leave the house she starts to get fidgety. As the miles roll by she begins to verbalize the source of her nervousness. “I hope I unplugged the coffee pot.” That’s where it all starts. I assure her that she must have. “I’m really not sure. I read a story once where a coffee pot started a fire.” Every time we go somewhere she starts on this same line. “I’m not going back, every time you do this we find out that you did unplug the pot.” Undeterred, she goes on, “Well, you can have it on your conscience if something happens; all because you can’t turn around and check. What would it take, five minutes?” So we go back. She forces me to go in and check, and we always end up with the same results, it was unplugged.

So now we’re on our way again and she murmurs something under her breath. “What was that Nancy”, I ask. “Nothing” she replies, but I know she wants me to ask her again because I fall for it all the time. I ask her to speak up. “I said, while you were in the house did you happen to notice if I properly extinguished my cigarette?” “Why didn’t you ask me when I went into the house?” We’re at Exit 4 on Route 3 by this time. Naturally I go back and check and naturally the cigarette is out. The only thing we accomplish on these occasions is my ranting about her cigarette habit.

There are, of course, the other times when she is absolutely convinced that the iron was left on. Visions of a conflagration cause me to go back and check. I always bite my lip on this bit of paranoia because she hates ironing. I think I’ve checked on the iron more times then she’s used it. I don’t believe I’ve ever found it to be anything but cold during the last three years.

Another favorite is her question of, “Did you remember to latch the door between the kitchen and the living room? If those dogs get into the living room they will destroy the new afghan I’m slaving over.” She can never make a point and just stop. There must be additional detail attached in order for me to understand the full folly of any decision I may make to not go back and check. “There is about $30.00 worth of yarn in that afghan. If those dogs get into it would be like throwing that money down the toilet. Is that what you want?” Talk about a dumb question. One time I said “Yea, that’s exactly what I want, I haven’t thrown $30.00 down a toilet in a few years, that’s exactly what I want.” Wouldn’t you know it, that was the one time the door was left open. The dogs had claimed it for their own, I coughed up another $30.00 and provided her with the one time she was right. That’s the thing with women. Once they are right once in their life, it becomes the basis upon which everything else is based. Now when she thinks she forgot to unplug the coffee pot, she can say, “Remember the day the dogs ruined the afghan? You were convinced the door was latched, remember that day?”

I used to think it was just me who went through this craziness until I started talking about it with other guys. Not only does it seem to be a marital occupational hazard, but its symptoms seem to appear immediately after marriage and never end. The other phenomenon is that it never works in reverse. We men never forget anything. If there is one thing we might want to forget, we are always asked as we pull away, “Sweetie, do you have money with you?”

HER: My late great-aunt Cecelia used to have a saying: “Firsty Safe,” and that is my motto. If you have doubts, go back and check. If you don’t, you may have a disaster on your hands. Men never have doubts-they’re always right. In our case, that’s why the oil runs out on the coldest day of the year, and the stove is left on with smoky scorched hash in the pan leaving the walls coated with soot. His favorite question is “Where did I put that?” And that’s really all I have to say to justify my ‘check again’ philosophy because I know that all women reading this will agree, but I’d like to take this opportunity to highlight a few of what I believe are his little flaws.

1. Why does he want to talk only when I’m reading or on the phone?

2. Why, when he uses talc, must he cover the entire bathroom floor with the stuff making it look like Pompeii after the volcano?

3. Why is it he’s the only person who knows me who doesn’t know that I like to iron?

4. Along the same lines, how come he doesn’t know how old I am?

5. Why won’t he eat any food that doesn’t have red sauce on it?

6. Why, since he is older than I am, does he keep telling me I’m getting older? Does he think I’ll catch up to him somehow?

7. Why does it take two hours to run out for bread and milk?

8. And why do we still have the piece of driftwood he found while walking the beach with his college sweetheart? (the one with the huge overbite) That was so long ago I could probably sell it to the Smithsonian.

You may know that he and I are Polish, and I’d like to share a joke with you involving a Polish man seeking a divorce that I received from my cousin Rita: The man tells his lawyer, “She’s trying to kill me.” The lawyer says, “How do you know?” The man says, “I have proof. She bought a bottle at the drug store and it says ‘Polish Remover’. I have some of that.

To make matters worse she has been grappling with flu-like symptoms during all these festivities and believe me that presents several challenges. Women are hyper in general, it magnifies during the holidays and places them in a new universe when mixed with sickness. She says its frustrating to have so much to do and not have the strength to do it. Isn’t that where I’m supposed to step in? I’ve never quite understood what she means by “I’d rather that it not get done.”

by Nancy and Dan Sapir