I should have known that a stomach bug Carla caught while she was pregnant with our first daughter was a glimpse into things to come. Not sure why, but what were once simple inconveniences somehow become massive avalanches of complexity after marriage and children. My first experience with this came when Carla came down with the absolute worst stomach bug I have ever seen anyone live through in my entire life while she was seven months pregnant with our first daughter. Prior to even being pregnant, these illnesses were dealt with privately. But once your wife is pregnant, you are forever involved in everything.
This story began in the middle of the night (of course it did). In the old days, the bathroom door would have stayed closed and I would have learned about it in the morning. Instead, the pregnant woman in my bathroom who was once my girlfriend turned on every light in the house, woke me up and had me sit with her. There was nothing to do, but she was pregnant and felt she needed the moral support. It would have been fine except she went from total appreciation and talk of our unending love one minute to me waiting for her head to turn completely around the next.
Because she was pregnant, the doctor needed to be involved. So, she had me call and get and him out of bed. She needed relief, and if it wasn’t in the form of a prescription, then we weren’t paying attention. He called in a prescription, and I was on my way to pick it up. I didn’t know 24-hour pharmacies existed before all of this, and I drove over only to find the pharmacy I had the doc call in the prescription to was no longer in the 24-hour prescription business. So, I found another pharmacy that was open at 3:00 am (and only a 30 minute drive away). I then got the doctor back out of bed for a new prescription request to this pharmacy. After some lip from the nightmare pharmacist who was clearly working the third shift because of her charisma bypass, I got home feeling like a war hero only to find my princess deep in her beauty rest.
After sleeping beauty arose, she asked if I would do another favor for her. It was Saturday, and her mom and sister had been planning a baby shower with her mother’s friends for months. People were in town, presents were wrapped, food was made and the star was not able to make her appearance. Barely awake at 11:00 am and still groggy, she asked in her most pitiful voice if I would go to the baby shower in her place, “Don’t worry, I will coach you on how to do everything before you go.” After I passed dress and grooming inspection, she explained how the shower would play out, and how I was to open, comment and then pass each gift to the right so everyone could ‘enjoy it with you’. In a word… beating. I was already hungry, and all I could imagine we were having for lunch was cucumber finger sandwiches with the crust cut off, fruit salad and some sort of short-bread high-tea cookie thing for dessert.
I got there and realized for the first time how different men really are from women. Enormous time was spent and no detail was spared to convert my mother-in-law’s house to a walk-in Easter basket. It was very nice, but ALL GIRL. I had never been the only a guy at a party where I was also the main attraction. I felt like a G-rated Hugh Heffner. I worked the room welcoming each guest and let each lady know how much I appreciated them. I was pleasantly surprised to find taco salad and brownies on the menu. The one pass you get as a guy in a room full of women, is that you can eat as much as you want and they are happy to bring you more. It’s like they wanted to see just how much I could eat. I didn’t disappoint. Then came the crescendo of the whole event – the gifts.
At a baby shower, you may not tear into a present like an 8-year-old on Christmas morning. No. The wrapping is like a work of art, so you must gently open each gift from the side, use an animated expression upon seeing the gift, hold it up for everyone to see, and then pass it so that each lady has the chance to hold and comment on the gift. My skills weren’t nearly has honed as they are today. After doing this 23 times, the whole thing ended like a heavy-weight title fight. Once the main event was over, the crowd was ready to leave. So, everyone stood up, and 23 farewell kisses later, I was packing up leftover food, new baby stuff and heading home.
I thought this was a one-off random event, but I have relived this story in some form or fashion at least a hundred times since. That’s just how it goes. One minute I am doing my thing, and the next thing I know I am swimming in a sea of pink taffeta wondering exactly what just happened.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
I thought I would really step up this year, get creative and buy my wife a new purse for Christmas. In my professional life, I seek out experts on topics to get educated and then make a decision. I did the same for my purse education and utilized my local Fashion Yoda (FY) who sits next to me at work. Let me begin by noting that NASA space scientists are presented with less complex problems when putting people into space than when a guy attempts to buy his wife something so seemingly simple as a purse.
First of all, they are not called purses they are called ‘handbags’, and this is merely the generic term because there are many sub-categories of ‘handbags’. Your grandmother carries a ‘purse’, or you can have a ‘coin purse’ or an ‘evening purse’ but you no longer refer to your ‘handbag’ as a purse. Best as I can tell handbag sounds more youthful and allows for more sizes than the term purse. My Fashion Yoda (FY) then began with the questions, and I was quickly overwhelmed. Let’s begin with type, which also indicates size and application. I glazed over in about 30 seconds and my eyes resembled those of a dying fish washed up on the beach, so I had to go with a graphic… clutch <mini bag <cross body <satchel <small tote <top handle <tote <hobo <magazine tote… etc. The list goes on, and these categories are subdivided again, but my sketch was beginning to look like a Pentagon decision matrix.
Then, we got into… Evening or casual? Does she want leather, suede, fabric, metallic, straw, microfiber or jacquard? Does she like hardware or prefer one without? Does she want it monogrammed? Does she want an embossed logo or one that is more prominent?
I needed a break, and thought maybe we could start with price? Bad starting point. I asked what the Cadillac of purses was, and I learned about the Hermes Birkin Bag that ranges in price from $5k-$20k if you can find one. “Uhhh, is that in pesos?”
I was curious if handbags were waterproof or which types did best in the rain and would be the most practical for everyday use. I then learned that many women don’t think in practical terms when it comes to fashion and would use their children as human shields against the elements before allowing their handbag to get wet or damaged by the rain.
The whole thing had me tired and my FY frustrated at my lack of answers. I realized how much easier it was to be a guy. Then, my FY asked if I would suggest a ‘hunting bag’ for her husband? Which led to my decision chart: What kind of hunting? Upland bird, duck, deer, antelope, big horn sheep, turkey, elk, varmit…? Will it be used for hunting in fall, winter or spring? Domestically or abroad? Is he going on a safari? Lower 48 states, Alaska or Canada? Does he want leather, canvas or nylon? Waterproof or non-waterproof? Does he like the waxed canvas type? Would he like monogramming? Camouflage or non-camouflage? Which pattern of camouflage? Realtree, Morning Wood, Tundra, Mothwing, Snow, Natural, Traditional, Desert…etc.? Will he be carrying rifle ammo or shotgun shells? Does he want it to match his gun case? What does his gun case look like?
In the end, we both agreed on gift cards.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
As the only guy in a house with three other women, I often find myself doing girl things without knowing it. For about the first 14 years of our marriage, we didn’t have a television in our bedroom. At first, we didn’t have the room for it, then it would have kept the baby awake, and then we heard it was bad for your love life (after kids you need all the help you can get). So, we would read at night. I would have a book and Carla would have her PEOPLE magazine – the bible of American culture and a female ‘must have’. To this day, I have personally never witnessed a woman walk past a PEOPLE magazine without picking it up. Early on when my wife was reading an issue I rarely even noticed. It looked like a TV Guide to me.
Then, one day I took a puff off of the PEOPLE pipe. It began innocent enough with me looking over Carla’s shoulder, then I would read a story she suggested, then I found myself spending my reading time looking through old issues (it comes out weekly like Sports Illustrated). Then, I crossed over. I took an issue to the bathroom with me one day when nobody was around, and once a periodical makes it to the throne room, it signifies a watershed event. I then went from reading my mother-in-law’s hand-me-down issues to ‘giving’ Carla her own subscription.
Then, one day in the doctor’s office, I picked up what looked like a PEOPLE and noticed it was a bit edgy, and entertainment news was much trashier. I liked it. It was an US Weekly. Then I found myself reading OK! Magazine, InStyle Fashion, InStyle Home….etc. This stuff is everywhere. It all looks the same, but somehow each is slightly different. I don’t get it. I’m confused. Are earth tones back in style? What is the new black? Is Lindsay Lohan in trouble again? Was Bradley Cooper really seen out with J. Lo?
I am no longer in denial about my problem, and have I learned to manage it. But I often find myself in a group of women at parties dishing scoop on Brangelina (not Bradgelina), Jennifer Hudson, Katy Pery…etc., talking Glamour Don’ts, discussing the resurgence of opaque hose, Fall handbag trends and how grey is the new black. I don’t even notice. When I realize what I am doing I stop, take a breath, walk over to the guys, and say something like, “did you see Brock Lesnar destroy Valesquez at UFC 121?”
Who am I?????? What is happening to me????
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
All guys love recliner chairs, and we prefer the ones with the handle on the side because it takes less work to get in the optimal television watching position. The only thing I have found that is better are the sofas that have double lay-z-boy chairs (one on each end) and a center console that gives you the ability to keep your drinks cold so you don’t have to move when you get thirsty. My wife, and others like her, has a different perspective on these home accessories. In short, I am not allowed to have one unless it is out of sight or perfectly camouflaged to look like a straight-back chair.
The lay-z-boy chairs that don’t look like a recliner basically suck. The foot rest doesn’t come out far enough, the head and foot rests aren’t padded enough, it doesn’t have the side-rails for my head for when I fall asleep, there isn’t a side pocket for my remote controls and newspapers, and without the stick shifter on the side, you are limited to only one or two positions compared to the variety of positions the shifter allows you to dial in. They are worthless. There are countless guys who owned one of these in their single days only to have their wife kick it to the curb after they got married. I’ve even heard of guys who aren’t allowed to put one in their man cave because the ‘decorator’ said, “no.” Really????
So, I was more than a little surprised the first time I took my girls to the mani/pedi spa to find dozens of lay-z-boy recliners, with stick shifters, lining the walls. And, each chair was filled with LADIES getting their paws and claws attended to. I made the mistake of speaking in an outside voice only to get the stink eye from some lady. I learned quickly not to go harshing some woman’s mellow while she is in the middle of a pedicure. Then as the light inside my head turned on, one lady looked at me as if to say, “if you breath a word of any of this to ANY man outside of these four walls (especially my husband), I will personally claw out your eyes with my new acrylic nail wraps.”
It’s a conspiracy! Women don’t want laz-y-boy chairs at home, so they act like they hate them, but THEY DON’T. They just want us to think they hate them. But why can’t we have one at home? Sure, they are more functional than attractive (beauty is in the eye of the beholder), but I think it is because they know they wouldn’t be able to get us out of it for two days of each week. What better way to get your husband ticking off items on his ‘honey-do’ punch list than to have him watch a football game in some uncomfortable chair or hard couch you aren’t allowed to eat on.
Think about it! You’ve never seen Lay-Z-Boy, Inc. file for bankruptcy. Why? Because no banker wants to chain and padlock a Lay-Z-Boy factory with a mob of angry women walking around in flip flops and sandals whose feet look like they are for climbing trees and warding off predators because they haven’t gotten pedicure in six weeks. And the women with the scaly, cracked heels, they would be the meanest. So, the ladies will make sure Lay-Z-Boy stays in business because there is no way they are going to sit in a metal folding chair to get a pedicure. You would have female uprisings all across this great land of ours if it ever came to that.
This brings me to my final observation, which is the guys that get pedicures. I have never understood this until now, but I have figured out that it is the only opportunity these hen-pecked guys get to relax in a fully-loaded lay-z-boy (w/ stick shift) in peace and quiet. What I now realize is that laz-y-boy chairs are to women what mopeds are to guys – neither wants to admit they like them.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
During some recent guy talk (topics generally center on power tools and girls’ butts), there was a story told about a fella who agreed to a nose hair waxing. I have the same nose grooming issue as many guys my age, and, if left unkempt, I could fashion the resulting hair into a swank mustache. So, I am sensitive to this brother’s issue and the pressure to address it by his wife. The story wasn’t clear if he was sent by his wife or sold the service after inquiring. Either way – I’m sure he didn’t fully understand what he was agreeing to, but while he sat the lady applied copious amounts of hot wax to the end of a pop-cicle stick, put the waxy end of the stick into one of the man’s nostrils and pinched his nose together. Then, after the wax hardened, she yanked down on the pop-cicle stick like a groom pulling on a wedding dress zipper and jerked out all of his nose hair in a split second. Like you, I was speechless the first time I heard this story.
The story stops there, but the question on my mind was if he had the other nostril waxed? The story makes no mention, but my theory is yes, and here is why. It is well documented in medical journals that sudden physical trauma creates a state of shock in victims.
There are a host of physical responses by the human body when in a state of shock – such as delirium, the inability to feel further pain due to the adrenaline response of the trauma, and/or an unconscious or semi-conscious state. So, I think that while the man was still in a delirious state of shock, the spa lady did the other nostril before he knew what happened. The real question in my mind, however, is how much he tipped her for this service???? The story made no mention of this detail either, but I would suggest the standard…$5. This is because you would not want to show back up next time and have her unhappy with you because you stiffed her on your last visit.
Afterwards, I wasn’t convinced this was even real. But Internet research revealed this was not an urban legend, but widely practiced on men everywhere. I noticed some guys were having their wives do this for them. I would not recommend this as I witnessed several mis-fires where the wife pulled on the stick, but did not pull hard enough to actually remove the hair – only hard enough to inflict pain. I think if you go the do-it-yourself route to save a few bucks, you are setting yourself up for some serious marital tension. I really think you want to go with a professional no matter how confident your spouse may be in her abilities.
The key take-aways here are: 1 – waxing hurts 2 – don’t get a nose wax 3 – if you go for the nose wax, DO NOT let your wife do it.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
Men don’t actually lose their hair as they age – it just gets redistributed (i.e. back, ears, nose, shoulders…etc.). I have the same issue. I hate it, and the older I get the bigger the problem becomes. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle against a Kudzu infestation.
I recently took my girls to get their paws and claws done at the local Mani Pedi spa, and I noticed the service menu offered ‘back waxing.’ I have heard women explain how waxing lasts longer than shaving, so I thought I would give it a try.
I made an appointment with Kim—one of the owners. I figured 2:00 p.m. on a Tuesday would be a good time to sneak in and leave without notice. No luck. It was like a Mary Kay convention in there with every Lay-Z-Boy chair filled with ladies getting pedicures, and overflow in the reception area. This would not have been so terrible except that I knew every other mom in there. As the only guy, they were keenly aware of my presence. I felt more out of place than a cowbow at a baby shower. One friend asked if I was getting my wife a gift certificate, “… umm, not exactly.” I ended up answering a different question and changing the subject. I also figured out that you don’t want to disturb a lady getting a pedicure. It evokes the same feeling in them as it does in guys when their wife strikes up a conversation with 1:45 left in the game.
My nerves got to me, and I had to make a trip to the powder room. Then I discovered that there was no men’s room. Why would there be? Living in a girl house, I decided to sit rather than take any risk that something would go amiss. There are two ways I know of to incite a female riot. The first is to not leave the seat as you found it, and the second is to mess up a fresh pedicure. The situation was fragile. Every woman in there knew where I was and what I was doing. If I didn’t leave everything as I had found it, there was no one to else blame. I had visions of agitated women dragging my lifeless body through the street with the situation escalating as each time they kicked me, it scuffed their fresh pedicure sending them deeper into their rage. I focused and made it back to the sitting area without incident.
Without a glance or even a pause in their conversations, I knew the ladies’ curiosity was KILLING them as I followed Kim to the back. Let me just say that my time with Kim produced no “happy ending.” The whole thing starts out fine with a comfortable table, nice music and a friendly smile, but the pleasantries end there. I felt the powder, the hot wax, and that is the last I remember of the “spa” experience. The rest of the session was taken from a chapter out of a GITMO interrogation manual. Kim kept saying, “so sorry” and “the first time is worst.” “You come back next time, and it not hurt so bad.” A friend once explained to me that the North American Plains Indians would torture and kill their enemies by skinning them alive, and it was the women of the tribe that administered the punishment. After this whole experience, I feel I have some idea of what that must have been like.
My spa day gave me an idea. Since I live across the street from the local swimming pool, I thought I could set up a back waxing business as a community service for those guys who are in denial about their hair redistribution issue. It would definitely benefit those of use who share the pool with them. I figure I could do a guy version out of my garage. Let’s be honest here, this notion that ripping out back hair in a spa is somehow “more comfortable” is just marketing spin. I figure I could have Sports Center on, serve beer and use duct tape instead of wax so the guys feel more in their element.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
It is widely understood that men and women approach fashion from entirely different viewpoints. Men choose to buy clothes that do not go out of style and wear those shirts and pants for as long as they will fit (fortunately, the belts stretch out and you can wear shirts that are on the small side untucked). Women buy the latest trend and hold on to those items for 30 years until they come back into style and wear them again. This is observable by looking at about any married couples’ closet.
Take our closest, for example. There are a handful of timeless men’s items that sit in one small corner of the closet, and decades of women’s fashion (accessories, shoes, handbags…etc.) that fill racks, drawers and floors of our closet. What is ironic is that I am not allowed to wear certain shirts I bought in college while my wife can wear things she has had for 20+ years because they are now back “in.” My stuff never went ‘out,’ but let’s not complicate the issue.
To be a team player, I recently purged all kinds of old clothes to both appease my wife and simplify my life – the two usually go together. Old suits, ties, shirts, shorts…etc. Some shirts I had to get rid of because my wife would say, “You can’t wear that shirt you have had since college out in public.” If I hadn’t told her how old it and other shirts were, I’m still convinced it wouldn’t be a problem. I did decide to keep one of my favorite flannel shirts. Flannel definitely never goes out of style. Now I am not sure flannel is really ever ‘in’ style, but that is not my area of expertise – think function over form here people.
A widely known fact among married people is that most wives prefer flannel pajamas over any other fabric option if temperature permits. The evening female ritual begins with a bath and ends with the wife in bed wearing her flannel pajamas and reading a PEOPLE magazine. This is her way of saying, “I’m done.” This happens across millions of households every night. My wife has taken the extra step to customize her flannel pajamas by cutting them off at the knee so she doesn’t get twisted up in them while she sleeps (she rolls around like Regan MacNeil from the Exorcist when she sleeps, but let’s save that for another time). All of those pajamas made of other fabrics mostly collect dust. Again, nobody tells you that after almost 20 years of marriage your wife’s go-to sleepwear is 10-year-old, cut-off, flannel pajamas. Imagine the disappointment.
Despite having bags of clothes packed and ready for Goodwill, my wife looks at my newly cleaned area and says, “I think you forgot to pitch your flannel shirt.” I offered to get rid of my shirt if she would get rid of her flannel pajamas. Needless to say, my shirt and her PJs are exactly where we left them.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
Let’s be clear, guys call their undergarments ‘underwear’ and the girls call their under things ‘bra and panties.’ The terms ‘underwear’ and ‘panties’ alone imply the gender of the underwear without the need for further explanation. You see, a boy mom (defined: a woman with a husband and only boys) can live a life free of humiliation because her kids will say, “that’s mom’s underwear.” Not a problem. However, the reverse does not work, and a girl dad has to bear the shame of everyone in the house saying, “those are dad’s panties.” This is neither workable nor tolerable. Call them boxers or underwear, but please don’t call them panties. I don’t wear panties.
You see, living in a girl house I am regularly forced to take big hits for the team. Let’s start with the amount of toilet paper I have to buy. Prior to marriage, a 4-pack of toilet paper would last almost three months (without a girlfriend, of course). After marriage and girls, that same 4-pack will last us a couple of days, and anything less than 2-ply will incite a riot.
Second, let’s talk soap. In my house, the femmes require a cornucopia of soaps, shampoos, bath salts, bath oils, bubble bath, sugar scrubs, bath bombs and other potions of various qualities and fragrances. There isn’t enough room around the rim of the tub to hold all of this stuff, so I have to buy a special holder for it that attaches to the wall. For me, I have one bar of soap and one bottle of shampoo. I share my stuff with the dog because my roommates like to bathe the dog in my shower (they don’t want dog hair in their bath tubs) and use my stuff. As a result, there is dog hair on my soap, and I usually smell like a gardenia because all my shampoo got used on the dog. And while we are on the topic of showers, let me just say that even though I have installed the largest residential hot water heater known to man, after 3 baths happen – a hot shower does not. Again, I did not know that women prefer baths over showers by such a wide margin until long after the fact.
And if that isn’t enough, I have even succumbed to sitting down on my visits to the WC. I have learned that the fastest way to infuriate a woman (regardless of age) is to leave the seat different than how you found it – up or less than perfectly dry. I thought I was the only guy who did this, but I have talked to other girl dads who do the same in the name of peace. Boy moms get their own bathroom. Girl dads must adapt or die.
So, after all of this blunt force trauma to my fragile male ego, I have to draw the line. When the girls were little and asked, “Daddy, are these your panties?” It was awkwardly cute. Some years have passed, and I thought we had finally straightened this thing out until the other day when my wife called down to the girls and asked, “Would one of you please bring up that hamper full of clean clothes? Your dad needs some fresh panties.” My response, “Et tu, Brute?” So,you may call my stuff underwear, underpants, boxers or whatever, but you may not call them panties. My man card is already in jeopardy, so the last thing I need on poker night is for one of the girls to announce in front of all my friends,”I just folded your panties and put them in your drawer for you.”
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved
Women are superior to men in a lot of ways – especially when it comes to conversations. Men struggle to carry on one conversation at a time while women can carry on several conversations at once. So, when I sit down for dinner I have no ability to follow any of the nine conversations happening at the same time between my wife and two girls. When you also consider that I have already said my 10,000 words for the day and each girl in the house is only about 12,000 words into their respective 15,000-20,000 words for the day, there is still a lot of talking to do.
Diary of a Girl Dad 
How to Compliment Your Wife
The great football coach Darrell Royal said, ‘Three things can happen when you pass the football, and two of them are bad.” The same holds true when complimenting your wife. Things can go badly very quickly if you aren’t totally on your game. I have been married almost 18 years AND have been the minority male in female circles for most of my life. I can’t say I understand women. That would be like saying I have expertise in astrophysics. My understanding of females is more basic. More like Newton’s law – action and reaction.
The way to a husband’s heart is easy – Show up naked. Bring food. Women are more complex, and I have found they need lots of compliments. Not because they are narcissistic, but because it lets them know we love them. This seems simple enough, but it’s easy for guys to get confused and say the wrong thing. Here are a few of my guidelines. ALWAYS go with a high percentage compliment and work your way up (i.e. you look pretty today). Don’t make the mistake of going for the Hail Mary when attempting a compliment. So many guys try something like, “you’re makeup looks like you did a really good job today.” Pathetic. That is an interception. There is a reason the Doug Flutie Hail Mary is a highlight film classic – it’s dropped more often than it is caught! It is better to have a high completion rate than trying to play outside your game. Another guideline: don’t compliment other women more than you compliment your wife. Complimenting another women at a party more than you compliment your wife will only get you in trouble. They keep count, and so should you. Lastly, don’t say another woman is ‘hot’. This will get you in the most trouble. Trust me on this.
Despite years of experience and training, I still mess things up. This happened recently when my wife came down to model her new Christmas party dress and matching shoes. My response, “What did you do to your hair?” Again – incomplete pass. After analyzing the tape, I should have led with, “Wow! You look spectacular! LOVE the dress! And the shoes, I’m speechless.” Coming up with this response without pause, a straight face, and perfect timing takes years of practice. However, this kind of consistent performance will get you to the Hall of Fame. The other mistake I made was giving my opinion. If they don’t ask for it, then don’t give it. Even if they do ask for your opinion, make sure you ask a clarifying question before responding. You only have downside risk here. It’s like throwing into double coverage. So, if your wife asks, “which earrings do you like better?” Your response should be along the lines of, “I don’t know, which ones are you thinking about wearing? I think you should go with those then.”
There has been a guide swirling around the Internet called the Hormone Guide. This is meant to help guys everywhere on what to say. It can be carried in a wallet or money clip. I think it is helpful to review before going home each day, so I have included it below. Please print it off and keep it handy. Also, be safe out there.
© Johnny Hea – 2011 All Rights Reserved