You know how when you're awakened at some ungodly hour things seem so much more dire?
I don't mean that I was ready to leap up and find a lesbian partner at 3:00 this morning. No. Well, sort of. But not exactly.
What I mean is this: Men are idiots. Or anyway, men I am or have been related to, and men I love. And by love I mean have slept with. Because there are certainly men I love as friends who are likely not idiots. Although I can't be sure.
But if you're a guy and you're reading this, I probably don't mean you. Unless I've slept with you. In which case, sorry, but I'm putting you in the idiot bucket.
Also, I don't want to give readers the impression that either of these categories cover a large swath of the world. Because they don't. I have a small family. And there are plenty of idiots I've never slept with.
In fact, we all know I wish I'd slept around a whole lot more in my 20s.
But anyway. I say this because the men I am related to or choose all have one thing in common. They decide how their realities are going to work, and they hold firm to their belief that they can make it so, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Nick has been in trial this week, which means he worked at least 24 hours last weekend and has been coming home around midnight and getting up and out by 7 am. They won't convene on Friday, which happens to be the day that he had long-ago scheduled to drive to Charlottesville for lunch.
Also, and more important in this story, he hurt his back about a month ago.
Now, the back injury is a recurring one, and every fucking time his back goes out and I try to harangue him into seeing a doctor, he insists he doesn't have time, and then he hobbles off to work and has a similarly-overweight man walk on his back and he insists that this miraculously fixes it.
Honestly. I'm not heavy enough to shove his disk back into place or whatever the fuck the man does for him.
So a few weeks ago his back went out, and he limped around for days without the miracle cure at work and then we ran into a family friend who is a physical therapist who focuses on sports injuries who was all, "For god's sake, stop being an idiot; come to my office."
(This was well before I'd had my Men Are Idiots epiphany, so I was all, "Yeah, stop being an idiot.")
They did a rundown of Nick's issues, and then talked about his lifestyle.
Nick said they were just chatting about Nick's normal life and routine and then our friend said: So basically, you work 12 hour days, and you play with your kid before work, and come home and deal with the house?
Friend: And you probably have a couple drinks to unwind when you come home?
Friend: So, you're an overweight, middle aged man who works really long hours. You come home and have a couple drinks, which shuts down your metabolism, and you don't get enough exercise. And you're really surprised when your back gives out.
Nick: Uhh, when you put it that way.
Our friend is both candid and cagey - qualities I appreciate.
So Physical Therapist Friend basically said something needs to change, and Nick has to start exercising daily. He showed him things like how to pick up heavy stuff (like Jordan) while still protecting your back.
Nick saw him a couple more times and started feeling a lot better. And then he stopped picking things up the way he should, started working even more round-the-clock, didn't have time to exercise...You may see where this is going.
So at 3:00 am, I woke up to see Nick getting back into bed, and wincing as he was doing so. He was clearly in a lot of pain.
And so I said, knowing that in the next two days, he will have no time to take care of it, "I think you should see someone Friday morning."
"I would also ask you not to spend six hours driving to sit for two hours for lunch on Friday."
I know what "we'll see" means. I means that that idiot motherfucker thinks that he's invincible. And the he can spend all day Friday doing whatever the fuck he wants and not taking care of himself. And then be incapacitated all weekend.
And so I there I lay, stewing on The Problem With Men. I know I've talked about this before, and my friend Steve is likely right, and I would just suck at being a lesbian. And because he's a gay man I defer to him in all things gay.
Even though he's not a woman and even if he got a sex change, he still wouldn't be a lesbian because his partner is a man. He still knows more about the gayness than I do.
But seriously. I'm quite sure that if my partner were a woman, we wouldn't be dealing with this idiocy.
And also, if that man spends the day in the car and then thinks I'm going to feel remotely sorry for him, rather than take it out on him all weekend, he's got another thing coming.
Motherfucker? Oh, I don't think so.