Chapter 24: You Marry a Man
YOU MARRY A MAN
YOU marry not only a sinner but a man. You marry a man, not a woman. Strange how easy it seems to be for some women to expect their husbands to be women, to act like women, to do what is expected of women. Instead of that they are men, they act like men, they do what is expected of men, and thus they do the unexpected. They surprise their wives by being men and some wives wake up to the awful truth that it is was not, in fact, a man that they wanted after all. It was marriage, or some vague idea of marriage, which provided the fringe benefits they were looking for —a home, children, security, social status. But somehow marriage has also insinuated into their cozy lives this unpredictable, unmanageable, unruly creature called a man. He is likely to be bigger and louder and tougher and hungrier and dirtier than a woman expects, and she finds that bigger feet make bigger footprints on the newly washed kitchen floor; they make a bigger noise on the stairs. She learns that what makes her cry may make him laugh. He eats far more than seems necessary or even reasonable to a woman who never ceases her vigil against excess weight. When he takes a shower his broader dimensions mean more water used and a greater surface for water to cling to and therefore she finds that the towels get much wetter, and he probably doesn’t hang them up folded in three as she wants him to in order to display the monogram. He may not hang them up at all. He won’t use a washcloth, which means he consumes three times as much soap as she does. When she cleans the bathroom she finds she has to clean in places she never had to clean before. He’s a toothpaste-tube twister instead of a roller. Anything he does which seems to her inexplicable or indefensible she dismisses with “Just like a man!” as though this were a condemnation or at best an excuse instead of a very good reason for thanking God. It is a man she married, after all, and she is lucky if he acts like a man.
“Men are men,” Gertrude Behanna says; “they are not women. Women are women. They are not men.” It’s another of those simple facts which are not always so simple to remember.
I know it’s hard for you to imagine this early in the game, but someday you may think to yourself (you might even say it out loud), “I’m not sure my husband understands me.” You are probably right. He doesn’t. He’s a man. You’re a woman. There are some areas in which ne’er the twain shall meet and we should be glad of that. Although there are times when we are frustrated and infuriated by the inability to fathom the depths of another personality, who can deny the fascination of mystery, of knowing that there are depths we haven’t plumbed?
There is a story in the Bible which tells of a man who was able to answer all a woman’s questions. The Queen of Sheba went to Jerusalem to test Solomon, the famous king, with hard questions. She went with pomp and splendor —appropriate to so momentous an encounter. We have heard of the wisdom and justice of Solomon, but no mention is made of his long-suffering. This story reveals it, for it is said that the queen “told him all that was on her mind.” That must have taken a long time. Not many men would want to hear all that was on a woman’s mind, but apparently the king listened, for “Solomon answered all her questions, there was nothing hidden from Solomon which he could not explain to her.” What a man he must have been to have command of all the answers and the patience to make all the explanations necessary to satisfy a powerful female potentate who had doubtless come with skepticism and perhaps jealousy and scorn. But she was thoroughly convinced. He won her over, and she saw his wisdom. She surveyed also the house that he had built, the food of his table, the seating of his officials, the attendance of his servants and their clothing, and his burnt offerings which he offered at the house of the Lord. When she had seen it all, “there was no more spirit in her.” The display took all the wind out of the queen’s sails. She did manage to pull herself together sufficiently to commend him and remind him of God’s blessing to him. When she had presented him with the gifts she had brought and received gifts from him, there was nothing left for her to do but go home.
Not many men can do what Solomon did. Not many men ought to try. And a woman who sets out to test a man with hard questions should be forewarned that she may end up with no more spirit in her, nothing to do but turn around and go back where she came from. It is probably not only a safer course but much wiser not to tell a man everything that is on your mind, not to press him with hard questions. Leave room for mystery.
When we were preparing for a panel on marriage for college women, five panelists gathered in our house to discuss which topic each of us was to cover. In the course of what became a highly animated conversation I suggested that somebody ought to talk about crying. This surprised some of them. What on earth did I mean? Well, women cry. Many of them don’t do it often, of course, but it’s a possibility a man should be ready for. Nothing is more baffling to a young husband than his wife’s tears —usually at most unexpected moments and for seemingly wholly unexplainable reasons. His anxious questions get nowhere, and her attempts to explain only increase his anxiety. Men ought to be warned that it’s no use trying to explain. It’s just one of the things that prove that men are men and women are women.
This argument was met with loud protest. “Why, I’m sure I don’t cry more than once a week!” one woman insisted. Your stepfather happened to pass through the living room just at this juncture. He had been perplexed that we were to have a panel at all. What was there to talk about? A panel on marriage? With five people as panelists? For an hour? What would we say? When he overheard this sample he left quickly.
Later he and I were visiting in the home of an exceedingly attractive couple in their thirties. He was an athlete; she had been a beauty queen and a model.
“Tell them about your panel on marriage,” Add said to me.
“Panel on marriage?” said the husband, looking blank.
I told him what it was and where we did it.
“But —what is there to say?” he asked. His wife and I looked at each other. For some reason women have no difficulty imagining a discussion on marriage. Men find it unimaginable. But when I told them about the preliminary discussion on crying, it was the husband who understood at once.
“I know exactly what you mean!” he said. “Sometimes I come home from the office feeling great. I go to bed at night pleased with myself, and I lie there with my hands locked under my head on the pillow, thinking about that brilliant decision I made at work and that beautiful hook shot I made down at the gym. Then all of a sudden I hear a snuffle.
“ ‘Are you crying?’ I say.
“(snuffle) ‘No.’
“ ‘Come on now. You’re crying!’
“ ‘No I’m not!’ (snuffle, snuffle)
“ ‘What’s wrong?’ I say.
“ ‘Nothing!’ she says, and she’s still snuffling. Well, I’ve been married long enough to know that this is going to be a three-hour deal, and it’s going to mean lights, robes, and coffee!”
The whole time he was telling this, his wife was sitting on the edge of her chair, grinning from ear to ear. They both knew exactly what I was talking about. They agreed that it deserved some mention on the panel.
But I can’t leave this part of the discussion without adding that men cry too. I am not drawing simple dichotomies here, as though all women and no men cry. I know men who weep much more readily than I do. Know your man. Know that there are things that make him different from you. His masculinity will help to explain some of them.