Sometimes I get a sneak peek into what it’s like to be a man at the mercy of his woman. Like just now. There I was, scrolling carelessly through a list of Groupons where I could save so much money they’d soon pay me to buy. Suddenly, a beautiful teenager's photo appeared with a tempting ad to save 59% off a Botox treatment at a nearby spa. Wow. That young girl must have looked hideous before she went in there. I wonder what trauma drooped her jowls and eyebrows at such a young age?
My innocent better half was standing twenty feet away from me, scrolling through emails on his blackberry. Out of the blue, female instincts mischievously whispered in my ear, “Quick! Ask him if he wants you to go get a deal on a Botox treatment.”
There’s just no way a guy could come out alive with a question like that lobbed in his direction.
He might say, “Sure. Go ahead.” And keep scrolling mindlessly through those emails.
“So you think I need Botox?” I’d ask, slightly offended.
“What? Oh . . . well, do you think you need it?” he’d reply, his keen intellect sensing extreme danger.
“So, you’re suggesting I get Botox,” comes my terse response.
“No!” he protests before falling headlong into the trap I’ve unconsciously set for him. “You don’t need to get rid of any wrinkles—you look fine! I love you for who you are!”
Take the bait. Set the hook. Reel ‘em in. Caught like a deer in the headlights. It'll be a cold shoulder roast dinner for that man tonight.
See? It's tough to be a guy.
(Photo courtesy of Andrew Rennie’s photostream at flickr.com) http://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewrennie/4757429795/