Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Dialogue on the Merits of Men

It’s her fault. Well, sorta. She calls. But I answer. She’s my editor.

How’s my favorite writer? Whatcha doin’?” She says. Honey drips from her voice. I sense a verbal flogging in the making.

I’m playing hide and seek in Winn Dixie, looking for a can of tomatoes,” I say. “Been here for hours.”

Are you lost again?” she snickers. I tell her it’s because my only clue was a vague description given by my wife. She said, “It has a white label with red tomatoes on it. Don’t come home without it, or else.” The “or else” troubles me.

Her voice suddenly changes. “Deadline’s tomorrow. Where’s your article?” she demands. “It’s showtime, the printer’s on hold and you’re late again, as usual. Why do you torture me?" A long silence ensues. “Well?” she says. Her voice is ice.

“Because I’m a man,” I say. “Men are born to torment women.” She’s not amused at my humor.

What’s the theme?” I ask.

It’s about men, my favorite subject,” she says. “Ah, you do have a heart after all,” I say. I feel her smile. I wonder if all women smile at the mention of ‘men.’ I know several who don’t!

Are you joking?” I ask. “Why? Men are boring subjects.” My voice resembles a sniveling whine.

Because I say so,” she says. Her voice becomes a whip. I feel the lashes. “You forget, most of our readers are women,” she says. I suggest an article with photos, entitled “The Folly of Women.” I add, “It’ll increase male readership.” Her mood is sullen. The silence stings.

Ok,” I say, taking the bait. “What about men?”

She says, “Oh, write something about patriotism, or honor, or valor or heroism. Something high-minded, moral, romantic. You know, something neat.”

Something neat? I gag. “Have you forgotten what happened in the Garden of Eden?” I ask. “What?” she says. I remind her of The Primordial Curse. “Look, that couple had no morals. They got foreclosed. They’re now politicians. Nothing’s changed.”

“Surely there’s something redemptive about men,” she says. “I’ll ask the boys at the poker game tonight,” I say. She groans.

She must not know much about men. I keep the thought to myself. I promise to get back to her after I find the tomatoes.

But she pushes it. “What about their feminine side?” she says. I hoot. “What? Oh, I get it. Like all those times when they write love notes and bring home dinner and put roses on your pillow at night?” She pauses, mutters, “Well, I guess we can scratch that thought.”

She’s quick, bounces back with, “How about their conversational skills?” Am I really hearing this? I knee-jerk a reply, “Oh sure, those times when they listen to everything you say and remember nothing. Is this what you mean?"

She reconsiders her position. “Yes, I guess there are times….” Her words trail off.

Wistfully, she says, “Don’t men always remember important dates, like anniversaries and birthdays?” Since she opens this can of worms, I can’t resist saying, “Of course, just like your husband does, right?” I hit a nerve. I think her husband will have a bad night.

You’re on a roll. What else?” I say. She hesitates, so I push my luck. “How about the fun you have when your husband goes shopping with you?” I hear her sharpening the knife.

I dig my hole a little deeper. “Here’s a ‘neat’ idea for you,” I say. “Let’s write about how men always compliment women on their clothes, shoes and coiffure?” The silence is eerie. I feel a noose tightening around my neck. Somewhere a crowd of women is cheering.

Got anymore ‘neat’ ideas?” I ask. Her response is vicious and unprintable.

You there?” I ask. Her weak voice responds, “Perhaps I really don’t know men after all.” I wanted to say, “I told you so,” but before I could she leaps back to life and shouts, “How about an article on flower arrangements?” I slam the phone down.

The store lights flicker, the store is closing. I panic. What color is the label on the tomato can, red or white? I forget, purchase both.

Merits of men? There’s nothing redeeming about a man who can’t even find a can of tomatoes…..

Bud Hearn
August 4, 2011

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