Friday, February 19, 2010

The Power of Observation

You've had that Jeep for how long? Two years? And you didn't know it had a remote starter???

Wait, let me back up a second.

Men are better than women at a lot of things. Lifting heavy objects, for example. And... um... other stuff that I can't quite think of right now.

But observation? Let's be totally honest here guys, you notice very little about... very little.

Maybe you did see the hot girl walking by in the mini-skirt. But did you notice her nail polish is chipped? Or the color of her shoes?

Ok, you notice the grass needs mowing - yay! Bonus points for you. But did you also happen to see that the pool has turned a murky shade of green? You know, the pool - that huge gaping hole filled with water smack in the middle of all the overgrown grass? Yeah that thing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not totally bashing your observation skills, or lack thereof. Sometimes it even works to my benefit.

TK never notices when I've gained a couple of pounds.

Or that the jet black of my top doesn't quite match the faded off-black-almost-grey of my skirt.

He's not once brought up the topic of waxing and my eyebrows in the same conversation.

Best of all he hasn't noticed that in the 10 years we've known each other I've aged, well, about 10 years. So honey, thank you very much for not noticing.


There are other small areas I would like you to notice.

My new haircut. My new boots. The new furniture.

The milk that you just poured that was the last of the gallon. Because the milkman is not due to visit the house anytime in the next century so someone should add it to the grocery list. Yes, the one we keep on the counter. The counter near the coffee machine. The coffee machine that doesn't work. That one.

You know what else would be cool? If you realized that the brand of shampoo I use hasn't varied since time began and no, I don't use nor want the 45 gallon green jug of shampoo from the warehouse club but thanks for picking that up. It sure looks heavy. And you are good at lifting heavy things.

I used to get frustrated when I sent TK to the store with grocery list in hand only to receive a text from the condiment aisle. "Is whole grain mustard and yellow mustard the same thing? What color is whole grain mustard? And is it kept with other mustards or someplace else? Can I just buy ketchup instead?"

At least you go to the store so I'm not complaining. Much.

But not noticing that the Jeep you have been driving for two years has a remote start button on your key fob?

Oh TK.

What did you think that little button did?

I won't even go into how if you read the instruction manual for your car that you would've known what it did but you're a guy and guys just don't read instructions... but seriously, what did you think would happen if you pressed it?

Would it turn on your invisibility mode and you weren't sure how to reappear?

Maybe it would turbo boost your engine, sending you careening off down the highway out of control, causing accidents left and right like something out of a Keanu Reeves movie.

Or I know, maybe the little button would open the door into a vast portal that takes you to another dimension which would take you far, far away from me so you knew better than to mess with it.

Yeah, that was probably it. Good thing you didn't press it, huh?


Anonymous said...


Men and women think differently. I think the reason there is so much kickup over this fact is that determinations of "better" and "worse" have been made on that which have caused much drama and inaccuracy.

Different implies neither better nor worse - just, well, different.

But everyone should at least notice, if not explore, the buttons on their key fobs. I know I would.

Doreen said...

I am a curious one, I would have pushed the button a very long time ago. I can't believe you've had a remote starter all his time TK!