Captain Caveman vs Just William – How A Lady Can Train Her Man Not To Be So Much Of A Dick Without Him Even Noticing
When me and my missus first got together, I was a bit of a caveman. A witty and charming caveman obviously, otherwise she’d have had nothing to do with me in the first place, but a caveman nonetheless. A troglodyte in cargo pants and surrounded by a fog of CK One. (It was the year 2000 and the 90s hadn’t even begun to morph into the Oughties yet).
Not that the caveman doesn’t have his place. It’s a boring and pointless bloke who doesn’t have a little bit of caveman in him. And a bored and unfulfilled woman who can’t have a little bit of caveman in her when the fancy happens to take her. In my case though, there was a bit too much caveman and he wasn’t hidden deep enough to make his appearance in the bedroom the nice exciting little surprise that it should be.
Every once in a while, I write a post that could get me kicked out of The Man Club for good. This is going to be one of them. There are two reasons why I write this kind of post. The first is that there’s no such thing as The Man Club. There aren’t any meetings and no one pays any subs. You can’t get kicked out of a club that doesn’t exist.
The second reason is that I occasionally get a little itch inside my skull which I think signifies that certain information needs to be shared in order to even up The Battle Of The Sexes a little. That the world might be made a slightly better place if certain facts were to become common knowledge.
Now, The Man Club – if such a thing were actually to exist- might argue that women withhold information from us all the time. Fair enough, they do. But women mostly do this for men’s protection. Men don’t want to know what women really think of them and what they actually talk about when there are no fellas around.
Women’s dishonesty is employed to stop men running screaming to the hills, hiding out in caves and spending the rest of their lives rocking back and forth, staring at the walls and then mumbling themselves to sleep at night. Most female dishonesty is necessary for the continuance of the human race and can’t be held against them. That, ladies, is why I’m going to tell you why your man behaves in the annoying way he does and how to stop him.
The problem, girls, is not your fella’s inner caveman. He is merely the instrument, not the instigator. The instigator is his inner schoolboy. Every man’s head contains a nine year old boy who has never forgiven him for starting to fraternise with girls in the first place. To this inner “Just William” schoolboy, you are an annoying Violet Elizabeth who won’t stop following him around and threatens to scream and scream and scream until she’s sick if she doesn’t get her own way.
There is a song which sums up better than I ever could how a man’s internal “Just William” feels about the lady in his life. It’s called “Zombie Eaters” by Faith No More. If you’ve never heard it before, here it is.
This song starts off all sweet and romantic and kissy kiss kiss. A bit like your relationship with the man in your life. Then later on, the truth is revealed. True colours start to fly. Also like your relationship with the man in your life. There are many truths in this song, but the main one lies in the following lines : “I like to make a mess/ I laugh at your distress/ I sit all day in my crib/ Absorbing all you give.”
These lines express perfectly the delight that Inner Schoolboy feels at how upset you get at your partner’s dickish behaviour. It’s this delight that is the source of all his dickish behaviour. The schoolboy has an Achilles’ Heel though, and this can be used to reign in the worst of your fella’s excesses.
Here’s what you do. When presented with said dickish behaviour, don’t lose your temper. Don’t nag. Don’t tut and roll your eyes. Just ignore it. Completely and utterly. Don’t acknowledge it or even allude to it. Just carry on as if it hasn’t happened. If the behaviour has caused an actual physical mess- which it often does- just cheerily clean up that mess and chat breezily about something else while you’re doing it.
This might seem like an odd tactic, but it goes straight to that Achilles’ Heel I was talking about. When the Inner Schoolboy is denied attention, he stops trying. When dipping your pigtails in the inkwells fails to garner a reaction, he just gets bored and gives up. It’s what my missus did. Clever girl, my missus. It’s what stopped me from doing things like getting blind drunk and falling asleep with my face in a plate full of curry. It’s what stopped me from wiping my cock on the curtains after we’d had sex.
Only joking. I never did that. Why would I wipe my cock on my own curtains? That sort of thing is strictly for one night stands. I did fall asleep in the curry though. Prawn Jalfrezi it was, if memory serves.
One word of warning though. Don’t try this on that “leaving the toilet seat up” thing that you women seem to find so objectionable. It won’t work. You’re just plain old wrong about that one I’m afraid. Sorry.
© Copyright Michael Grimes 2014