The male idiosyncrasies.

                In the rush hour  that  mornings are, when the mind (and the house) is at its chaotic best, even a tiny speck out of place has the power to drive me nuts. Blame it all on my OCD! Oh, and also on my crazy hormones. The  angel from a moment ago, can very well turn into a she-devil on spotting a single thing out of place!  Like, the wet towel lying on a freshly-made bed.
           It is an everyday scene, on countless beds, in countless homes.  I fail to understand, what  IS it about men and their wet towels?  I mean, men, and their wet towels tossed on beds. No, the men are not tossed on the beds,  their towels are… oh, you know what I mean!  So, I see that towel and something snaps  off in my chaotic mind. And, let me tell you, at such times, no amount of deep breathing and  reverse counting  helps. So, bellowing a thousand curses, the angel-turned she-devil goes charging at hubby,who is coolly preening and posing in front of the mirror!
               Is he getting ready for  office, or is he planning to go on a date with some popsy? the mind wonders, going off at a tangent.  But, hey,  no digressing here! He needs to be shown where the wet towel goes after use. I  pick up the object of my irritation and stand in the doorway, tapping my foot impatiently.  And, as I stand there, holding the towel between two fingers (like I would a cockroach), hubby looks up with indifference, and asks, “What’s it? Is the breakfast ready? I am getting late.” He hurries to zip up, and zoom out of the room, leaving me standing there, holding the towel and feeling like an idiot!
          I charge at him,  “Hello! Can’t you see I have something that belongs to you, that is not supposed to be where it was found? Hellooo!!”   Did my mutterings go unheard?  No, they didn’t.  Those mutterings were pretty audible. Audible enough for something to snap off in that male mind. I hang the damn towel to dry on the clothes stand and, sensing the heat in the moment, go back to being an obedient wife, rushing to the kitchen to serve hubby his meals; the past ‘wet’ incident pushed under the carpet.
       I clear my throat and with a sugary-sweet voice ask,” Ahem, how’s the sabzi? It’s your favourite!” My ears strain to hear the applause (I prepared it just like his mum used to, after all. I deserve the praise!) But, alas! I hear none! I repeat my query and he repeats his silence. Now, what is the matter with him? I didn’t pursue the wet-towel-on-bed matter any further,  did I? No! Then what IS it? I ask out of curiosity. Correction. I ask, tremblingly, out of curiosity (well, I am the docile, obedient Bhartiya naari, after all; no prolonged fights with my angry young man! ). And, out comes the retort, “You didn’t have to make such a big deal out of a bloody wet towel, as if it’s some crime! It isn’t everyday that I do it, do I?”  And, in a huff,  hubby is out of the house, leaving me standing there, with  my mouth agape!

        The bellowed curses did have an effect, after all!  Yessssssss! So, from now on, no wet towels on the bed! Yayy!! I do a little winner’s jig, but suddenly stop midway.

        In the history of mankind, has any man ever hung his wet towel to dry?

       or, capped the toothpaste after use?
          or cleaned up the bathroom after his bath?
          or cleared away his plates after eating?
          or picked up his clothes and put them in the laundry?
          or left the toilet seat down?
          or, or, or…
                 To every question on the list,  the answer is NO.  So, what am I dancing for?

             I go back to clear away his plates, put away his clothes, and complete his half done tasks. And, I deduce, that because God couldn’t be everywhere, He made mothers. And, because mothers couldn’t be everywhere, He made wives!  ; )


Published by shilpagupte

Do you know the secret to living a happy life? Eat. Pray. Love. Or, watch what you eat, wish well for all and fill your heart with love! That's precisely what I try to do through my blogs: 'Metanoia', the wellness blogazine, and 'Fictionista', my blog for fiction and non-fiction. Welcome to my virtual homes!

22 thoughts on “The male idiosyncrasies.

  1. I had to laugh at this, Shilpa since I could totally relate. Hubs and sons are so identical, sometimes I get them mixed up. Sometimes Hubs is worse than the sons. They're all little boys deep down and like it when we take care of them. Only I don't like always having to assume that role. Why can't they do it themselves? Sigh! No easy solutions, are there? Aside from assuming the “She-devil” dance which isn't pretty but it sure feels good to get those frustrations out!


  2. This post was hilarious yet so true. These are often scenes in my house too. But nowadays my husband is getting better and then he gets worse. 🙂 I feel my son is better in doing his tasks on his own better than my husband. 🙂


  3. Hahahah – you write it so well dear friend! Was giggling my way through this:-) And sometimes writing is sooo therapeutic – didn't you feel so much better after writing this ? …. I can only say I think I raised my son like my daughter- so much less wet towels, dirty plates and dirty laundry in sight in my home:-) 🙂 Big hugs sweetie


  4. I live in opposite household… I am the one that gets to hear why can't you put it in proper place 😉 but no wet towels on bed … I don't think I will tolerate that either. Hope he returns in a better mood. 🙂


  5. I protest! I morcha! I *gets handed a note by the Association of Male Earthlings and reads it* After careful consideration, I have decided not to protest but to study the matter in greater detail before responding.
    *uses that as an excuse to go to pubs and watch football matches! Weeeeeeeee!* 🙂
    But ya, I can't really protest – my room is barely livable. The cockroaches and ants clean up after I leave cos its too messy for them!


  6. I think as I grow older I get more tolerant – toothpaste, towels, toilet seats, plates and clothes no longer bother me. But when I was younger it drove me mad.


  7. The Wet Towel… how it drives me nuts. Seriously men are all the same and now my son's going the same way despite being corrected EVERY SINGLE DAY. I'll never be able to face my future daughter-in-law if I cannot teach him this one skill. This has to stop and we mums can do it if anyone can.


  8. I am glad you enjoyed reading this post, Vinitha!
    And, I think, you are a great mother, who is trying to inculcate good habits in her little boy! Keep it up! Your daughter-in-law will bless you!


  9. Hahaha.. that an interesting post. But I think I am the exception here, coz I can answer with a 'Yes' to most of those questions you asked at the end. My husband does do all of that, most of the time.

    What he doesn't do is LISTEN, and I mean, REALLY LISTEN. I need to repeat the same stuff at-least 2 times on an average. So many words get wasted on a regular basis. Sigh. 😛


  10. Wow! You are lucky in many ways, Shantala! Hubby actually doing that! And, I can understand your problem about hubby not lISTENING! Which hubby does? Mine listens only to reply, never to understand. There are rare occasions, though. Thank god for small mercies! No wonder we women talk more than the men!


  11. LOL! yes He did!! although, i must admit, i appreciate the Huzben a lot more now.. he doesnt leave his towel on the floor..but i REALLY would appreciate it if he wouldnt use the bathroom counter top as a warehouse and dump ALL his pockets out on there!


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