You can't live without them... but sometimes they're so blasted hard to understand.
We know they don't know how to read between lines, like us women do. They never get our obvious hints even if they smack them in the face. And sadly, most men have their personalities written right on their foreheads. Those of us who know men well, can't be fooled by their antics. Unfortunately for them, most of the time we've got their number... And more than once we will look our beloved man in the eyes and wonder if he really has a brain in there... somewhere... almost makes me what to break into song! But I won't.
I will never understand men's obsessions with "The Grill."
Ben wanted one before we got married and so we purchased a little charcoal tripod one to test the waters of his grilling abilities with the potential fire hazard. Sadly, Ben failed miserably when he nearly burnt down our trailer and still managed to under-cook the hot dogs.
So no grill for Ben.
Six and a half years later, this woman got sick of heating up the kitchen in our no cooler apartment. Sick of cleaning pots and pans. And just about fed up with doing all the cooking! If Ben comes in one more time to ask if "there is something to eat?" like his arms are painted on and he can't go open the fridge look for himself, I am going to cut my hair and feed it to him... take that! Drama Queen take a bow!
So after almost 7 years of begging, pleading, embarrassing groveling and some feet kissing, I let Ben get a propane grill on the condition that he will: 1. Grill on demand. 2. Use it at least 20 ft away from our apartment (even if it is made of cinder-block), and 3. Be in charge of it's up-kept -- I am NOT cleaning that thing -- bathing 3 dirty boys is enough for me, thank you very much!
What is it about a grill that makes a man so happy. Does it fulfill some secret fantasy of flipping burgers at McDonald's? Would they if they could? Is it the power they feel at standing behind the heat, controlling the grill-life of a chunk of meat... raw, med, or well-done! Take that hot dog! Or maybe it is all about knowing the ingredients and wielding the power of the "secret sauce" (which isn't really a secret, but shhh... we don't tell them that we know). When I asked Ben, he said it was "all about the flare-ups" -- which sounded to me like some kind of funky disease.
Whatever it is, let's face it: Grills make men happy. At least mine is.