Men’s Logic

The other day, I was explaining how the people in my house all sleep naked. It was a moment of over-sharing, and truth be told, we are about to have another one.

You see, THEY sleep naked. I, on the other hand, always wear what my husband lovingly (but also very disparagingly) calls my “armour”. I wear pajamas. Not the sexy kind either, though I do own lots of lingerie for those “other” occasions.

No, bedtime to me means wearing pajama pants and t-shirts, or full-length (or almost full-length) nightgowns, or sometimes pajama pants, t-shirts and those almost full-length nightgowns as one ensemble, especially if it’s winter. Oh yeah, and I often wear wool socks.

My husband complains – “Oh there she goes, putting on her ‘armour’ again.” When he says this, he is inevitably rolling his eyes.

To which I reply, “What do you think I am, a sex goddess twenty-four hours a day?”

Men's Logic | TheFurFiles

“Yeah.” He has no hesitation, which is good. It is the right response.

“I need to relax occasionally. Besides, what would you do if I was always naked?”

“Always have sex with you.” Of course he would, but then who would work, and who would make supper?

“You would seriously want to have sex all the time? That just doesn’t sound appealing to me. There needs to be ebbs and flows in life otherwise things get boring. Don’t you think that the times you don’t have it make you appreciate the times that you do?”

“No. I just want it.”

“OK, well you can’t tell me that you’d want to eat chocolate cake every single day. It would start to taste bad.”

“No it wouldn’t. That’s women’s logic. Chocolate cake would taste like chocolate cake.”

“So are you insinuating that men’s logic is better? Men’s logic would have us all playing video games, watching football, fighting in the street, and eating steak with lots of barbeque sauce and not doing anything else. Oh wait, and having sex. How could I forget that?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” my husband answers plainly.

Moral: you can’t argue with a man.


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You Know It’s Time For Your Children To Move Out When…

A little prelude to this post. My children are 21, 20, and 18. The all still live at home. And they ALL sleep naked.

Now, you are probably wondering how I know this. Simple, both of my sons think that the second floor of our shared abode is something like “Bob And Babette’s Bare Bottoms Nature Reserve”. I am constantly telling them to “shut their bedroom doors until their penises are put away”. And my daughter, that was one embarrassing “I went into her room one night to look for a pair of nail clippers, and she was asleep with the blankets askew” moment. Not an experience I hope to recreate any time soon.

Yes, as I move through this journey called parenthood, I know that a change is on the horizon. I’ve witnessed this kind of thing before.

You Know It's Time For Your Children To Move Out When... | TheFurFiles

For example, when my oldest son was almost three, I knew that things needed to be different when he came up to me in the grocery store and said – in a voice deeper than my husband’s – “I need a nurse.” I knew right then and there that it was time to cut him off from breastfeeding. Yeah, I was one of those hippie mothers who nursed her babies almost until they could ride a two-wheel bike without the training wheels. My girlfriend buried her placenta in her backyard. At least, I didn’t do that.

Also, I knew that it was time for my kids to move into their own rooms – are you surprised that we practiced the “family bed” as well, probably not – when my husband could barely walk from having to sleep on the floor for nearly five years. And today my children are totally independent, so what if none of them know how to turn off the lights, do the dishes, or take the G.D. bus.

Just so you know, from the time my children were infants until they were preteens, we lived in a very Bohemian, student-centred community. Think Jesus Christ Superstar and Wanderlust but without the religious overtones, the singing, or the free sex. It was actually a wonderful place to raise kids – very supportive. And it probably completely explains why my offspring are profoundly comfortable with their own bodies, which in this rather uptight world, I believe is quite refreshing.

I still think it’s almost time for them to fly the coop and find their own places to live, though in the imagined words of Stephen Gaskin, (founder of the modern-day American commune The Farm), “I wouldn’t be mad if they decided to move in right next door, or if they wanted to buy one giant family complex where we could all live happily together because love is love and love brings the world together and I love them”. I just want to be able to lock my section of the house at night and keep them out of my kitchen. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

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