Unraveling the Mysteries of SWH - Strange Women Habits!

At the time of this writing I have been on this earth about 46 years. I'm probably not more qualified than any other 46-year-old male to speak on the topic of SWH (Strange Women Habits) with the exception of maybe being one male who has a bad habit of asking questions. I say bad, because when it comes to questioning why women do some of the goofy things they do it usually results in one of them giving me that "Oh my God, what a stupid thing to ask!" look. Unfortunately that one is usually my wife. So, in some respects I am eternally an idiot in her eyes for wondering about such silly things.

But you know what, guys? It's time to ask! I mean, for much too long now we've all just accepted that women are the way they are - without questioning why. We haven't cared about logic. We have not given any thought to the justification behind it. We have always been much too accepting of women's strange habits - just because. It's like asking, why is the sky blue? Who cares, it is.

I'm reminded of what inspired this little article in the first place. As I sat in my doctor's office, awaiting yet another check-up that men only discuss amongst other men well into happy hour, my attention was distracted by a woman nearby, in her early 20's, nicely dressed in professional attire. As she chit-chatted on a cell phone she apparently found the need to retrieve an item from her purse, and began the search. She grunted a bit in frustration as she searched and the sound of all the stuff in there reminded me of what it sounds like when I'm digging around in my tool box. She finally started pulling things out one at a time. A lipstick, compact, mirror, another lipstick, makeup, a wallet, brush, comb, some thing with a string on it, another cell phone, nylons...it was like watching Mary Poppins digging through her overnight bag. What, no pairs of shoes in there??

By the time this woman was done there was enough stuff on the chair next to her to have a small garage sale. Then I heard her mutter, "Ugh, it must be in my other purse!" So just what is the point with carrying all that stuff? Men are so much more practical. We have pockets. We love our pockets. We put what will comfortably fit in them, and not anything we won't need for the day. If we need to carry a few more things than normal we wear cargo pants. We just like pockets. But in our pockets you will not find cologne, no hair stuff, no address books, no toothpaste, and no curling irons. You know why? Because we know there's a good chance one of you broads are going to fall into a river with all that stuff you're hauling around and we're going to have to jump in and save you! And you better hope we don't have to stop to unload our pockets first because if we do you gals are going to sink. See? You need us. You think another woman is going to jump in and save you? Not a chance. One less female means less competition!

While I'm on the purse mystery let's tackle a related one: "Honey, hold my purse!" Please pay attention to the befuddled look on our faces! We really don't want to hold your purse for you. There are many reasons for this: fatigue from following you around all day, our hands are busy in our pockets, public humiliation. But mostly we just want to hold onto whatever masculinity we have left that you have yet to strip away. For a little longer anyway. We know it's inevitible. With time we will be reduced to gumby-man.

Tip for men: If you'd like to be excused from purse-holding operations try this: dig through her purse and pull out her travel-pak of tampons - hold them up high while yelling across the sales floor, "Haven't you reached menopause yet?!"

When trying to unravel the mysteries of the strange things women do one cannot possibly overlook ODP. Contrary to what may be swirling around in your head, ODP is not an acronym for some new disorder. Then again, maybe it is. ODP is the delicate term for referring to an Open Door Pee'r. You know, someone who insists on performing restroom operatives with the door open, or insisting that their man does. ODP Syndrome is usually found amongst the female gender, in the 18 - 95 year range, and is known to stretch beyond english speaking regions. The only geographical location known to not be affected by ODP Syndrome is the African jungles. The poor native guys just don't have a door to close.

Women, what is it about this most private moment of the day that you feel the need to be a part of? A man can be quite relaxed in there, perhaps cracking open the newspaper for the first time that day, and - knock knock knock! "What are you doing in there?" Good grief, what do you think we're doing in there??

"Open the door!" She wants you to open the door because of the sudden need to talk about things. Nothing in particular, just things. Perhaps about your behavior while holding her purse at the mall. You may plead for just a few more minutes but you might as well be talking to the roll of tissue, she's already picked the lock and pulled up a chair. Unfortunately, there is nowhere to run. Oh the humanity. All self-dignity is flushed. On the other side of the coin - why is it you women insist on leaving the door open when nature calls you? Then of course, to add to the botherment, is there really a need to call us in to engage in some conversation? Whatever you read in Cosmo that led you to believe men want to partake in these events was written by a woman, also stricken with ODP. We really don't. We would rather just go through life believing our lovely female counterpart does not ever need to do such things.

There is no place like a woman's home where you will discover the most bizarre habitual female practices. Women, for the most part, are arguably the tidier of the two genders. There are some exceptions of course, or so I hear. As it is I seem to only attract women that are borderline germaphobics, which is a bit of a mystery since I'm sure that I leave germs wherever I go. What can I say: guys are germy. But there is one common trait I've noticed amongst most all women, and that is the mystery of the vacuum.

Let me explain.

A woman will work hard all day cleaning house - sweating it out, almost to the point of smelling like - well, a man. She will scrub the toilets, mop the floor, clean the mirrors, dust, and finally - vacuum. And she will vacuum every square inch of the house. Then....as she looks around with a tired, yet approving smile...she will finally concede that she is finished.

And leave the vacuum in the middle of the room, plugged in!

She'll retreat to take a shower, change clothes, relax and watch TV, stepping over the plugged in vacuum for the next 3 days! Why in the world would you females put so much effort into cleaning up the house - only to leave the vacuum out? It's kind of like brushing your teeth and then immediately chowing down on oreos! What's the point?

Well, after much thought and consideration I think I know. This is actually a very clever tactic devised by women everywhere to kill their husbands. You know very well that at some point between midnight and 5am we will get up to enjoy our bathroom operations without conversation, and we will trip over the dang vacuum on the way and die. Thus taking advantage of our short-term memory.

When you think about it this isn't a very intelligent thing to do. If knock us off, who will hold your purse for you?

Since we are taking a close look at a woman's life at home, let's poke around in her closet. While there have been a few exceptions, most every woman I have ever met or known only has two feet. They are quite visible, usually at the end of her legs. We would probably all agree that I am correct on this. So it baffles me as to why any woman would find the need to own hundreds of pairs of shoes! Guys, next time you are hiding in the closet, take a close look at the inventory of feet coverings your woman has collected over the years. Most notably, her black mid-heel shoe things. I say that because they aren't quite high-heels, and they aren't tennis shoes. They are kind of in between, and it seems women own millions of them. And all of them black! I could see if they were different shades of black - you know, maybe black, blacker, and blackest - perhaps that could justify owning a dozen of each. But, if you were to line them all up the only thing a man could differentiate between them is the left one from the right. Maybe.

Special events seem to be the trigger for new shoe purchases. Company holiday parties, weddings, "Buy a right shoe and get a left one for free!" shoe sales. I can't imagine there is a woman in the world who can say "I need a new pair of shoes!" without feeling some level of guilt.

Men are so different when it comes to shoes. We own a pair of casual 'tennis' shows - which we wear until our toes are poking through. Only then do we get some new ones. We go to one store to shop because we've already calculated how much it will cost to hobnob around town all day looking for something for a dollar less.

And for the record - no, we do not feel the least bit weird about digging through the trash to find our beloved pair of Adidas that you felt so inclined to throw out. I don't care if they are so old and soiled that spores are growing out of them...don't touch our shoes! For dressing up - only one shade of black is enough, and perhaps maybe 2 pairs. One pair of which we will never wear because you picked them out and they hurt our feet and make us walk like pixies.

Clearly, just as men and women are different psychologically when it comes to shoes and bathroom operations, we are agreeably different physiologically. Why do we not lift the toilet seat first? Simple. We know you'll forget to put it down and since your bottoms are usually smaller than ours you will fall in. We are being thoughtful!

Why do we make our sandwiches right on the counter, and not on a napkin? We're saving trees!

But contrary to what most women seem to think, men really are sympathetic to your monthly dilemma. We know you didn't vote on it, or ask for it, and most certainly can't take it back for a refund. For the most part - ending up with a menstrual cycle was somewhat beyond your control. You have our empathy, and we understand.

What we do not understand is your inherit need to include us in it. Isn't it enough that we have to accept PMS as an excuse for every diabolical act of emotional castration you pull on us? I can tell you this: no matter how accommodating your man might be at your request to run to the store to buy you tampons - inside he is wanting to bypass the grocery store and keep on driving north! All the way to the store he is pounding the steering wheel, shaking his fist at other drivers with a psycho look in his eyes, and swearing out the window at little old ladies with Yorkies. What is up with this? You women know that time of the month is coming around. It's inevitable. Not a maybe, not a matter of the curse passing you by this month. The Red Badge of Courage is going to knock on your door every month! But yet you women somehow manage to forget this and every other month are suddenly without your equipment. Please! Do you really think we believe this is an accident? We know the truth! This is one more tactic to emasculate us as we suffer the indignity of having to go out into public to acquire some girly hardware for you. I learned about this early in life. My innocence being taken advantage of, I was sent off to retrieve those things. However, as I walked into the store I noticed on the note she had written instructions to pick up some left-handed tampons. Left-handed? What, is the grip different? Whatever, I figured it was new technology. But after 20 minutes of looking at every package on the Aisle of Humiliation I got so flustered I broke down and, red-faced, asked a female store employee if she knew where those new left handed models were. I showed her the note and everything. Thirty minutes later, after looking for the aisle of nothing but left handed items - I realized I had been bamboozled. I should have known. My mom isn't even left handed.

Tip for men: Men, if you want to be permanently banned from having to purchase female stuff for the rest of your life, bring her home a box of Depends instead. Insist they do the same thing and they were on the half-price table with old bakery items.

Follow a woman out into public and you will see a whole array of fascinating behaviors. Especially if you get two or more of them together. Young guys - take heed: if you want to get an idea of what you are considering settling down with, take her out to dinner with some of her friends. Do so with caution and watch the beast within her emerge!

You can see the most blatant differences between men and women by how they talk about so-and-so across the room. You see, guys could really care less about what another guy is wearing. We really don't. Even if they are wearing the same tennis shoes as us, it's not an issue. Women on the other hand.. "Oh my god, will you look at that dress! What a slut! She's probably slept with every guy in here and her mother has too!"

"Ya, look at that hairstyle! Good god, I wouldn't be caught dead with that much mascara on..."

"Probably covering up plastic surgery mishaps!"

"And her boobs are lopsided too!"

All this character analysis from across a darkened room, inspired by one too many margaritas. Then the twist of events - when the woman comes closer to visit the ladies room and they realize it's their long lost friend from school.. "Hellllllloooooo!!! " Hugs and kisses. "You look so wonderful still after all these years!" "Oh I love how you did your hair! I must know where I can get a dress like that!" And on and on and on.

Then there is the diet issue, which can best be analyzed while you are still at the restaurant with her. Every woman in the world is permanently on a diet. She could be skinny enough to paint silver and be used as a flagpole - she will insist she needs to lose 10 lbs. You younger men may as well just accept this as one of those mysteries you will never ever get. However, there are some guidelines to this taboo subject that are extremely important to your mental health. First, unless you wish to be permanently banned to the sofa - do not ever agree with her! I don't care if she's bigger than you! If you ever allude to the notion that she may just need to lose a couple of pounds, you will be shopping for tampons for not only her, but for her friends as well!

What is interesting about women on diets is that for the most part they only seem to be officially on a diet when you take them out to a restaurant. To take it a step further, their diet restrictions only seem to apply to their order. As you eagerly tell the server of your wish for the porterhouse steak, baked potato and all the cholesterol enriched goodies that go along with it...your woman, in the most disciplined tone she can muster, will say "I'll just have the house salad with dressing on the side." They always say 'I'll just have...." because 'just' is the declaration that she is disciplined and you are a pig.

This is where the dynamics of women on diets, and their men (who, incidentally, are inconsiderate enough to eat anything but salad in front of them) come in to play. You see, when the food is set on the table and the aroma of grilled porterhouse with garlic-marinated mushrooms overwhelms the fresh scent of her scant serving of plant leaves - the diet restrictions seem to go to the powder room.

She, of course, just happens to have a steak knife in her purse, which is quickly retrieved, as she only wishes for a small sample. After all, she has been perfect on her diet that hour, and she deserves at least a little. You can try guarding your much deserved, thick juicy steak - rationalizing that she had the opportunity to order one but chose that plate of weeds instead. But you will end up with stab wounds all up and down your arm. So give it up. Next time just order a larger steak - womp off a small piece and toss it to her - all while mentioning in a loving tone how she really doesn't need to diet.

The other issue with women on diets always leads to you females asking for our opinion on how you look. You see, men usually learn by the age of about - ohhh 5 - that while women may ask for our opinions about something, they do not want our honest opinion. Men, think back on when you were first confronted by a girl about whether you thought she was cute or not. Remember how you scrunched up your nose and went 'ohh yuck!' and if you recall she hissed spittle all over your face, stomped on both your feet, and threatened your lips with violence..? Yes, how stupid of you not to know you were supposed to lie about her unsurpassed beauty, irresistible charm, and not to mention her lack of a need to diet. The emasculating tactics start young. Little broads in training, they are.

You women out there - I think it's sufficient to say that we men would almost rather go shopping for tampon bargains than you ask for our opinion. Think about it. Regardless of how we answer something we are screwed. Consider this scenario:

"Honey, do you think I need to lose a few pounds?" We rarely get eye contact when asked this, because she is turning in front of the mirror to inspect the real estate.

"Baby, you look so hot you could afford to put on a few pounds!" We say, puffing up our chest.

The twirling stops, her hands on hips, eyes rolling like a drunkard. "You are such a lousy liar! Why don't you just say I'm a fat pig! Why do I even ask you anything??"

'I don't know,' you mumble.

On the other hand:

"Honey, do you think I'm overweight?" She gives the pouty look.

You look her over and nod. "Yup!"

Tears, mass hysteria. "You don't love me!!" You see, inevitably women really want their men to be good liars. But then of course when they find out we were really the ones who ate all the oreos, and not Snappy the Chihuahua - we are never-to-be-trusted-again lying beasts. You see the logic?

In summary: We can't win. About the only thing we do right is tampon shopping.

Chip Clark is a guy, based in southern California. When not annoying women with jibberish that exposes silly female traits, he is taking a nap.