Geez, crivvens, help ma boab. Putting pictures in any sort of order that you may want on your blog post is enough to make a man cranky. By the time I was done adding the photos to that last post I decided to abandon any thought of writing an accompaning piece.
You see it's that time of the month that I turn into an inconsiderate, grumpy fuck. The last thing I need now is for life to throw curveballs at me now. I might not be bleeding in my genitailia area, or suffering cramps or bloating or many of the other symptoms that women go through on a monthly basis for 3 - 7 or maybe even 10 days or more but nonetheless I get especially cranky, uncaring and insensitive for a part of the month. Why? Because I'm a guy. I roll that way. And I'm man enough to admit it. When I get "You will never understand what it feels like!" thrown at me every month all sympathy for the plight of all those who are suffering the effects of periods goes out flying out the window.
I didn't get the chance to choose to be man or woman when I was conceived. To my knowledge there was no specialist sperm in the nutsack with a clipboard asking my spermself "If you are jammy enough to reach the egg do you want to be male or female, you better choose now or I will choose for you?" As far as I know that didn't happen. It was a 50/50 chance of being of being born male or female and I didn't have any say in the decision. I just got lucky. I hold my hands up and say I got lucky. And I'm glad I have no prospect of having to produce a kid out of a pee hole. But that is not a reason to hold a grudge. I will not know what it is like to suffer from the cramps or the headaches or the bloatedness or having to buy tampons but its no walk in the park for me either. I have to hear all about it.
I know I should be more considerate and caring and I probably should not write this post as if all men are like me because there are probably some really nice guys out there that know how to react the way that they should. In truth I don't know enough about the rest of the male population to write for them but I do know me. I'm Scottish, that makes me part Vulcan, I might not have the pointy ears but I am emotionally stunted. I don't deal with crying very well. In my experience Scottish men only cry themselves when their football team has just lost the league title on the last day of the season or when Scotland wins the Six Nations rugby Grand Slam (actually that one hasn't happened yet), in other words they'll cry over the things that don't really matter. Things that they can get over quickly. The rest of the time we act like men made of rock. You have as much chance of getting tears from us as you have of getting a blood donation from a pebble.
We might not be much, but at least we are predictable. We expect our womenfolk to be the same. When they are having a great weekend we enjoy it, we expect things to continue in that vein. We do not expect a conversation to end up with her in tears. When those tears suddenly explode out of a random conversation we see mountains in the far distance and want to run away towards them. When we are able to fight that inner urge to flee the scene at speed and ask what is wrong we are genuinely concerned, we want to know what it was that we said so we can first of all avoid that uncomfortable moment forever more and secondly, this is more in hope than expectation, have a chance of fixing it. The last thing we want to hear is "I don't want to talk about it!", because when we hear that those far away mountains creep closer and call our name. They get closer still when that is followed up with "I can't talk to you!"
Its then that I turn from a concerned husband who is trying to be caring and considerate to his wife into someone who is a selfish grumpy ogre because its then that I realise I have to go through this every month until I am close to 50, and then just as the periods end I will have to listen to effects of the hot flushes". Oh joy!
And noone ever warns us when we fall in love that this is going to happen. Sure the warning signs were there from our mothers, but we were young, we were boys, that was our mother we just thought it was because we were being naughty.
And so we meet a beautiful, intelligent, woman who likes us for who we are and she isn't psycho and so we fall in love. It's only later that we find out that she suffers from periods of emotional instability. I can bet that not too many girls write into their diaries 'Today was a really bad period. Suffered cramps, headaches, and conflicting emotions but on the upside I met a boy who told me I was the most beautiful being on this earth. He says he already knows he wants to marry me.'
of us probably fall for the love of our life during the rest of the month when we don't have to stand on eggshells. It ain't no walk in the park second guessing what to say or do all the time. It's hard work. It's what makes me grumpy, uncaring and insensitive every month and I don't care to dress it up. It's not my hormones, it's who I am.
Not only have I probably lost the majority of my blog's readership I will probably now have a wife a who is no longer talking to me - this is the price I am willing to pay to give you something new to read.