Whether it is easy to be the man?chapter 1: about eternal... about eternal female discontent
of the Man (I will not call you “dear“ because you for a long time not dear, also as I will not call you “expensive“ because also this term is already similar to an ancient artifact of an era of paleolith) what you usually hear in the address from lips of familiar women, colleagues, casual strangers, especially if you do not advertize the presence, you remain unnoticed? I here hear something, like “There is no real man left“, “Men crushed“, “The man degenerated now“. Or “Where men - that? One drunks remained!“. Or “Yes he and a nail is not able to hammer!“. Or the immemorial female, boiled for many years sufferings and humiliations, summing-up everything worthless man`s existence against the woman, the summary “Yes all men goats!“.
Women obviously are also categorically dissatisfied with us. I worked in exclusively women`s collective nearly five years and had an opportunity to observe women in the most various situations and conditions of mind, a body and a state of mind when they ceased to play. To my deep regret it became clear that even those Evina daughters whose blessed regularly worked on production and house fields did not hurry to become an inveterate drunkard successfully, did not go to autonomous swimming to other promised coast - families, are also dissatisfied with the halves.
For example, at one colleague of spouses held very important post at one of the largest enterprises of area. Without the slightest hint on an art hyperbole: the house - the full bowl from pure gold which is poured a fragrant ambrosia of a family cosiness and comfort. Ladies` sedan of gently pink color. Toilets, if not directly from Lagerfeld, then and not from Sekonkhend. Annual rounds to Europe and North Africa. Live yes rejoice to such husband! No, it was impossible to rejoice sincerely in any way. Obviously something saddened the gentle family relations at what with such spontaneous destructive force that the distinguished colleague continually exclaimed in a fit of temper “Would kill!“.
The second employee about existence of Tunisia and Majorca did not even suspect, went mainly on foot or at best moved on a minibus, from dresses preferred sweaters and trousers of dark nonspottable tones. But repeatedly showed us the two-storeyed house from five rooms where each nail was on the place, and for hours could tell about the children, both from which studied on paid offices not most zavalyashchikhsya HIGHER EDUCATION INSTITUTIONS of our city. Also showed the husband, but it is strict against a lodge - a toy. In private and not really conversations itself, in confidence to the whole world, more than once all department confided secrets of their intimate pleasures. And, nevertheless, and it when the speech came not about the house and the husband, and not about children and the husband, and just about the husband, was joyfully spat by sore bile, putting me to the absolute deadlock. How, and you Brut?!
I knew the spouse of the second colleague personally. If it is possible to judge the person on appearance, then it belonged to that class of mammals at whom forward extremities were extremely developed, due to considerable physical activities in the house and at the dacha, the remained wool a shred was strongly beaten by a moth, and on early premature osteochondrosis and threat of an early heart attack and a stroke were read to the stooped figure and an apoplectic flush of the person. Such usually die according to the Russian statistics: precisely in fifty six. He was always sad and always hurried home. To the wife and to the house (- not to the house, and to the house). There it was always waited by affairs about what it sadly and obediently as the burro of News agency, sighed.
At the third colleague the husband was a scientist. The scientist meaning that read many books and even knew a foreign language. He understood early Gauguin and late Van Gogh, preferred to the utopian Tolstoy the realist Dostoyevsky, composed verses and sang to the guitar. It was possible to talk to it on the most different subjects, but the colleague, because of her krestyansko - proletarian education, different subjects did not interest. She was interested in one subject: money. And she earned them, a chelnoch on different countries of Eastern Europe, stuffing woman pants and men`s socks by various parts of a body, was exposed to threat of arrest and deportation because had before itself high aim: to build one more house. The four-room apartment in the prestigious area and in addition few giving was it long ago, she wanted still the house. The spouse did not wish to build her one more house, including it narrow-mindedness and decadence, for as ogrebat at full scale on nuts and raisin in addition from the supruzhnitsa - the impresario.
All these three different examples are united by one: female discontent in the relation as it seemed to me, not the worst men (about other, not so bright samples of a floor man`s, primitive, as they say, we will keep silent). The discontent is obvious, difficult hidden, permanent. Such incessant PMS which is smoothly passing into the climax coming at some women after thirty.
At what, each of the given cases - typical and not categorical. That is, I know families where the discontent stepped for a side of eternal muttering long ago - a “usual“ manner of communication from the spouse and cavils apropos and without cause. It turned into silent female hatred. In such not bloody vendetta. Quiet and patient revenge for “the best years, the youth and beauty given who does not know“.
For balance I try to remember not just happy marriages (happy marriages, as we know, do not happen, and there are marriages successful), and marriages where women, let and hardly, but would find several words of approval for those who near them. Whom they at least sometimes would love and appreciated. And sometimes spoke about this love. I remember and cannot remember