the emotional rollercoaster ride

I wonder how poor, unwitting men endure it, the vast, complex and sometimes ridiculous moods of women.
For simple, straightforward, practical creatures who are challenged with simply multi tasking and consider it a small victory to have popped open their pabst blue ribbon simultaneously while choosing which play off game to watch, I am sure dealing with the difficult and diverse moods of women is tantamount to the apocalypse, or a tragedy of similar proportions.
The stalwart general, when prepping for battle, first and foremost has a plan; he has gathered reconnaissance of the enemy battle fields and arsenal, and has meticulously studied the moves of his opponent, to ensure he is familiar with the territory and tactics and to level the odds for possible victory. He knows his enemy. Only an ignorant soldier with a death wish will venture into battle with no plan or strategy, defeat most assurred with his only tools being the unknown, and thus unpreparedness. And yet this is the role we force men to assume when they become involved with and thus exposed to our vasilating, estrogen fueled mood swings with no prepatory answer of where or why. They have no knowledge basic of reference with which to draw logical conclusions; out of nowhere they are ambushed with this irrational behavior.

Men may initially find our sometimes volatile behavior intriguing; variety is the spice of life and high strung emotional creatures are never boring or predictable.
However Intrigue seques to impatience when a man comes home from work and finds his wife or girlfriend clanging around the kitchen, foaming at the mouth and wild eyed, her token response to his concerned inquiry a high pitched shriek and slamming of the proverbial door, leaving him to shake his head in bemused costernation, as he left a smiling and gracious creature earlier in the day, someone with whom he was looking forward to relaxing and spending time.
Or when a slack eyed man, peacefully sedated on Sunday afternoon with mindless channel surfing and potato chip ingestion to ease his stress focuses his gaze temporarily upon his girlfriends backside and is rewarded with "what are you looking at? You think I look fat don't you?" When he was focusing on nothing at all.
This confuses him. In his mind first comes step A, then step B, black and white, stark reasoning and logic, problem, plan solution. There is no consistency, no predictability and this he cannot understand. It kind of lends some understanding to why some men prefer the company of men to women. How was he supposed to know his girlfriend had gained three pounds and was therefore feeling like a bloated cow. Nobody told him this, and his crystal ball is in the shop.


Men are not programmed to deal with our emotional swings and they should not have to consistently endure this. Nor it is fair to change your sweetness and light to dark and tormented Meredith without some kind of concilatory explanation. Men do not have ESP. they cannot sense our thoughts or instinctively gauge our moods once in love with us. There is no psychic connection I am sorry to explain. Therefore if you are feeling depressed or moody for no reason, or anticipate a hormonal influx, either put on your best poker face and keep conversation sparse, encouraging him to watch the Hawaiin Tropic bikini contest to deflect from Sybil of the many personalities taking over your psyche, or tell him you are in "one of those moods" and call a female friend with whom to share your woes, as the minute you confide complex drama to your "man" he will snap on his proverbial construction belt and try to solve your problem. What men don't understand is that sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to our dark moods. Like the mist or the wind, it just "is". I am not saying that we have to always put on a brave face while we tie our Betty Crocker Apron Strings and perpetuate the myth of the eternally happy 50s housewife, never burdening our "men" with our problems or concerns. That is unhealthy and unrealistic. And most of those Gen x marriages are now finished. Our men are our protectors, defenders and can handle some mood swings and somber thoughts. However if the walls of ratonality are closing in, and you feel your fifth mood swing of the day coming on for no apparent reason, your arsenal of friends are there for your comfort and absolution. This is our right as those possessing a Y chromosome. However relieve the burden of your man, and leave him to his singular thoughts and logic while he blissfully tunes out to football and potato chips. It will provide a better balance to the communication factor.