After many years of marriage, there are numerous things I have figured out.
Not many of them have to do with women, mind you, because the female brain is a mysterious island shrouded in layers of emotions and thought patterns my man brain just can't understand.
Going into our nuptials, I had a rudimentary understanding of ladies, and now, many years later, I have a slightly increased grasp on the female mind – very slightly.
But even before I was married, I knew how to answer the age-old (and very loaded question) 'Do these make me look fat?'
Gentlemen, the answer is always “No, of course not.”
Even if her butt looks like two Smart cars trying to pass each other on a narrow road, the answer will always be 'No.'
Even our neanderthal fore fathers knew what to say when the little woman asked if the latest in wooly mammoth fashion made her posterior look large.
“No, you look great,” was grunted out lest our slope-headed hero get a brontosaurus bone upside his head.
And don't ever, even jokingly say, “The pants don't make your butt look big, your butt makes your butt look big.”
I cannot even begin to describe just how wrong that answer is.
I have learned the term “Fine, do whatever you want” really does not mean “Fine, do whatever you want,” so I urge my male brethren out there to think very carefully before taking their next course of action.
In fact, just about any sentence that begins or ends with the word 'Fine' means you are in the danger zone.
You have been warned.
There are a lot of other things I have learned, like how to keep the home tidy, I have learned the fine art of making a bed every single morning (why, I am still not too sure as you are just going to mess it up again anyway), I have learned that a man's version of close enough, differs greatly from a woman's version of close enough and I have learned just how vital 300 pillows on a bed are for the continued existence of the human race.
But one thing I still can't figure out is laundry.
My man brain says laundry should be an easy task: whites go with whites, colours with colours and darks with darks.
Simple, right? Wrong.
It would appear laundry is far more complicated. There is white, sort of white, kind of white and not-white-at-all-but-still-goes-in-the-white-pile white.
My man brain did not know any of this when I said “I do.” I should have said “I do, except laundry, because that I don't.”
Despite explaining the fine art of laundry sorting to me several times, I just could not grasp the nuances of the task.
But I think I have a solution: beer.
No, I don't mean men should say forget the laundry and go drink beer, I mean beer companies can come to the rescue of men throughout the free world.
Here is my idea: beer companies can include a chart with each case of beer outlining what type of clothes go in what pile.
It can have a sorting guide, colour chart and most importantly – beer. That way we male types can drink a cool, refreshing bevvy while doing the laundry, which would make us happy and our partners would be happy because we have mastered the art of sorting.
But until that day comes, I have been officially banished from doing laundry because my man version of sorting laundry is not acceptable to my wife's perfectionist brain.
I still fold laundry, because not even I can screw that up.
But when it comes to laundry my man brain is just not up to the task, so I no longer have to sort and wash clothes.
Yup, I sure am dumb sometimes.
Copyright 2016, Darren Handschuh