Welcome back cave dwellers! It’s been a hectic three and a half months since my last post. Between a promotion at work, a new difficult project starting up, my company’s home office relocation, the busy holiday season and Mrs. B and I getting the ball rolling on a new home being built for us, I’ve been fortunate just to have enough time to breathe. This particular post has been a long time coming so without further delay…
The title of today’s post comes from the punch line of one of my favorite stories that a good buddy/co-worker tells, involving another mutual co-worker/buddy. As much as I would love to relay this story to all of you here, both for it’s immense comedic value and relevance to the topic at hand, it doesn’t translate well to type and loses too much of it’s humor if you aren’t familiar with the players.
This One Is for the Ladies
Huddle up ladies and listen close! I may be risking my guy-card by sharing secrets about the inner workings of the subconscious male psyche, secrets that I myself wasn’t even aware of before this post topic began forming in my mind. If I’m banned from the monthly meetings for providing intel to the opposing side, the least you can do is learn something. I’m joking of course, it’s the quarterly meetings that don’t allow double-agents.
But First, a Little Setup
Several months back I was driving around the New Orleans area in a work truck while my customized, dashboard-beating Pandora station blasted through the speakers. There’s nothing like a soundtrack with a Breaking Benjamin foundation, infused by a shot of Within Temptation and a dash of Lacuna Coil to keep the creative mental juices flowing. It’s in situations like these that I do some of my best free thinking, as well as my most random.
On this particular afternoon I was, for some unknown reason, remembering a dinner outing with my wife. It was a common scenario where I had eaten my fill, but steadfastly refused to yield to the remaining portion on my plate. While my sweet wife did her best to save me from myself, urging me to stop and ask for a doggie bag for the excess, I was attempting to “power through” as had become something of a mantra over the last two or three years (much to her dismay… and my amusement). As I chuckled to myself over her reaction to my insistent, “I can power through”, I began to wonder why. Why was it so important to finish the meal? Why did it feel so demoralizing on a seemingly molecular level to throw in the white napkin of surrender? I instantly received my answer…
The Light Bulb
It was at that precise moment when I heard my buddy/co-worker, in his best imitation of our mutual co-worker/buddy, conclude the famous story with, “It’s a war zone out there!!!”
Like a brilliant flash of lightning tracing across the sky, my mind leapt into action, instantly connecting the dots that are many of my common behaviors with the one underlying, previously unknown and subconscious reason they share… it is indeed a war zone out there.
That remembered event was no mere date, no simple meal. Sure, I thought so at the time and so did my wife. What began as a basic evening, designed to satisfy both her desire for a romantic activity and my need sustenance, was in fact something else at a much deeper level. Despite the ambience and pleasure of getting out of the house for awhile, once the plate was set before me the challenge was engaged. The gauntlet was thrown down. I was suddenly, yet unknowingly a general, marshalling my forces for good in a war against evil. In defense of my land, my freedom and all else I hold dear. How could she ask me to simply surrender?
For Sparta! This far and no further! None shall pass!
As my mind continued to flood with past experiences, it only made more and more sense. After a long day of framing basement walls and that one 2x4 just wouldn’t take a nail, the first six attempts terminating only halfway in and successive strikes from the hammer only served to bend and twist the nail. Rather than removing the nail and trying a seventh, the command decision is made, orders given. The hammer keeps swinging until the end of the 2x4 becomes an unrecognizable, splintered mass which must now be freed from the wall and tossed aside. It seemed ridiculous, wasteful even if you think about it. Progress was halted and building materials lost, so why did it feel great? Just look at that 2x4… I won.
Everything from tile installation, roofing and drywall to completely different tasks like spreadsheets, driving… even video games are approached from the subconscious view of a battle, and with it the refusal to be beaten. And each time the tide begins to turn, that urge rears it’s ugly head. The urge to “push the big, red button”, to strike a decisive, absolute victory despite all the consequences and potential collateral damage.
Don’t Believe Me?
Just look at the men in your life. Have you ever seen your guy (husband, boyfriend, father, brother, etc.) start to use a wrench as a hammer on a part of the car that didn’t need fixing, all because he was tired of fighting a bolt that wouldn’t turn? Have you really looked into his eyes at that moment you suggest that maybe he should stop and call a professional plumber/mechanic/electrician? Ever notice how he seems to get just a little too much satisfaction from accomplishing even the simplest tasks? Think about it.
That guy zipping in and out of lanes on the freeway when traffic slows down? He’s trying to win. That foreman tossing his hardhat on the ground? His battle is going poorly. It’s everywhere.
Some of you may protest that your guy is different, more refined. I hate to break it to you ladies, but that is simply not true. It may occur when you’re not around. It’s likely that he is a better tactician, giving a little ground in the smaller battles while keeping an eye towards the larger war. But rest assured, within each man beats the heart of a warrior, fighting the day to day battles. Each man has his line drawn, where enough battles lost will result in creative, inventive cursing and a drastic change to his front line tactics.
So What’s the Point?
What have we learned? Is this the way the cave man compensates for being taken from his cave and shoe-horned into a cubicle, suit, home owner’s association, etc.? Is this information even useful? Can this knowledge be helpful to you, the women in our lives in recognizing and defusing the “big, red button” scenario? I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I do know one thing. Telling the general to put down his fork because he is being silly is definitely not effective.
See you next time. Thanks for stopping by.
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