The Voices In My Head: Harper Lee Weinstock

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A COLLECTION OF COLUMNS BY HARPER LEE WEINSTOCK

Women are from where?

Harper Lee Weinstock

The other night, after throwing the kids outside and putting the animals to bed (we discovered our mistake the next morning), my wife and I settled in for a quiet evening alone. We don't get much time to ourselves anymore, what with work and the constant demands for attention from a two-year-old who thinks electrical outlets are convenient, piggy bank ATMs and a ten-year-old who wants to forego middle school to become a Spice Girl. So, when we get more than five minutes alone, it's a big deal. A very big deal.

My wife (the brains of the outfit) suggested that we make a cup of hot chocolate and watch TV. In the old days, a little hanky-panky would have been thrown into the mix, but when you've been married as long as we have and your time together is limited, you've got to set priorities. Hanky-panky? Hot chocolate and TV? When she held up a bag of miniature marshmallows, it became a no brainer. Hey, I like hanky-panky as much as the next guy, but those little marshmallows were screaming my name.

Grampa Enos Weinstock discovered the truth about women in 1927. And today he's DEAD!!

The first sign that my wife had ulterior motives came when she picked up her cup and left me standing alone in the kitchen. Granted, it was taking me awhile to fit that entire bag of little marshmallows in my cup, but ordinarily she'd wait for me. It was when I finally set my cup on the table that separates our matching recliners that I discovered her plan: I reached for the remote control, but it wasn't there. The remote, MY REMOTE, was clutched in my loving wife's right hand. Her plan was suddenly crystal clear. She was going to make me watch something she thought I needed to see. Silently, I asked God to have mercy on my soul. He did not listen.

"I'll flip," I said, holding out a hand and giving her a pitiful smile.

"I'll do it," she said, using the same sweet tone I'm sure Ted Bundy used to lure in his victims. When she stopped on a channel and slid the remote under her chair cushion, I knew all hope was gone. "Oh, this show should be good! It's about relationships, with that 'Women Are From Venus' guy."

"What Women are from Venus?" I asked hopefully. "Are these women a hundred feet tall? Are they wearing Spandex and knee boots? Is Pamela Anderson in this?"

"No, dummy, 'Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.' It's a book about relationships," she said, giving me THE LOOK. "It tells couples how to make their relationships stronger."

"I bet the first thing the books says is: Give your man back the remote."

She didn't buy it. So, for the next sixty minutes I was subjected to modern love in the infomercial age. The guy responsible for this wasted hour of my life is one John Gray, the writer of this blatantly-misnamed, albeit wildly-successful book that I'm pretty sure no man has ever read without coercion from his mate. Gray was the moderator of the show, giving five couples advice on how to fix what had gone wrong with their relationships.

One woman in particular really needed a good kick in the emotional behind. She complained that her husband gave her a new BMW for their anniversary when all she really wanted was a carriage ride through the park. Excuse me? Maybe she can catch a carriage ride back to the mothership because I definitely think Venus is calling this gal home. If Gray had based his book on women like this, he would have called it, "Men Are From Earth and Nobody Knows Where The Hell Women Are From or What They Want."

As I was making fun of this show (hey, it's what I do) my wife started telling me about another book her unmarried girlfriends had been telling her about. This piece of literary toilet paper is entitled: "The Rules: Time Tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right."

"So what are the rules for nabbing Mr. Right?" I asked. "No burping in front of his mama? Don't leave the toilet seat down? Don't make him watch stupid TV shows about relationships when Matlock is on?"

She said, "The Rules say a woman should play hard to get. Don't call a man back when he calls you, make him ask you at least three times before agreeing on a first date, don't sleep with him until he has given you a ring, that sort of thing."

"Who came up with these rules?" I asked, knowing that it was not a guy.

"Two women," my wife answered. "I don't know their names."

"These two women, they married?" I asked.

"I don't think so."

"SURPRISE! Now give me back the remote before I call my attorney!"

After the show was over, she asked, "So, did you learn anything that might make our relationship better?"

"Yes I did," I answered honestly. "I learned that the next time you try to entice me with hot chocolate and little marshmallows, I'd be better off settling for a little hanky-panky!"

A WEINSTOCK EXTRA!
Here are three hilarious pieces about the neverending battle between the sexes. Thanks to the readers who sent them in. Enjoy! If Men Rewrote The Rules | Seminars For Women By Men | Seminars For Men By Women

Read last week's column: The Tanya Factor