The Male Perspective

I’ve decided to begin posting a monologue that I wrote long ago about the complex relationship between a guy and his girlfriend. Usually, we hear this type of subject matter from a woman’s perspective, so I thought why not look at things from the male perspective for a change. What makes this monologue fun is that it’s written by me, so inadvertently it’s about how I perceive men in relationships. It’s split into small little chapters only a page long, usually, which makes for a quick, fun read. How does this connect with The Diary of a Wrinkle? Well, it still involves women’s issues that we can easily relate to.

THE MALE PERSPECTIVE

Part 1

“Pruning and Grooming”

I’m so tired, just so damn eye-burning, mouth-yawning tired.

Didn’t sleep all night; the girlfriend of course had to pick a fight.

You know, just when my body relaxed a bit and I was ready to

shut down for the night.

What is it with women who have to fight, just when you’re

about to fall asleep, or when you’re sitting on the toilet,

or when you’re about to eat.

All right, you want to know what she was moaning about?

We were fooling around for a change. The usual kind of stuff,

Na, I won’t get into it, but it was good, not bad, yeah, not great

but certainly not bad. Then, after we both reached a satisfactory

state, if you know what I mean, we rolled over to our assigned

spaces on the bed, and that’s when I opened my big mouth.

That moment right after—when you feel emotionally liberated—

the most stupid and unthinkable things spill out of your mouth.

What? Yeah, yeah it’s that exact moment when all you want

to do is sleep. Is that too much to ask for? What? No, she didn’t

say anything really. I was the one who said something. It was just

a comment; it should’ve been taken lightly. It was more

like a suggestion really. But it had to blow up into an

emotionally explosive argument instead.

What did I say? What the hell did I say? I’m so damn tired.

No, I didn’t say that, but that’s how I feel right now. I told her

that I would prefer that she shaved . . . you know, shave.

I ask you, is there anything wrong with a man wanting a little

bit of landscaping around his castle? And let me tell you something,

her garden needs a lot of trimming!

I should’ve known where this was going; instantly, it

turned into another “you don’t really love me” episode,

and frankly, I’m tired, tired of every single thing that I say

twisted and turned, analyzed to death, and always taken out of context.

“Even ugly girls have someone who loves them,” she said, twice,

waiting to hear a heartfelt “sorry” from me.

Or an affirmation of my love for her and possibly

 another validation of her beauty.

But see, I wasn’t sure what it was, even though

I had a rough idea. We argue and fight, a lot

so I had an idea of where this was leading.

But I don’t like to be pressured into saying things

 she wants to hear.

And it’s not because I end up saying things that

aren’t true. You know, the truth is I just didn’t know

 what she wanted.

No, I didn’t apologize, and no, she’s not ugly,

of course not,  definitely not.

But this is what I mean, it always reverts back to

her self-esteem issues. I feel as though every man needs

a degree in psychology in order to know how to deal with this

type of reaction.

I just wanted her to shave, it’s nothing permanent,

nothing like a tattoo. The hair will grow back eventually.

I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.

What? You really think I was wrong to tell her how I felt?

Just picture yourself living in this magnificent home; you’re

in your bedroom—your beautiful room, which overlooks

a garden—sounds nice so far doesn’t it?

Except this garden’s been neglected and the beautiful rose

bushes that used to adorn the area are swallowed by tall, stubborn weeds.

Would you be able to enjoy this sight?

You know what, I don’t care. I have to get some sleep. No, I

won’t come over to mow your lawn. Who the hell do you think I am?

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