I’m tired of, what I view as, loaded questions. Perhaps they’re unintentional, but some questions make me feel as though I’m being set up for failure. I approach such questions as though I’m attached to a 450-thousand volt wire- one slip of the tongue and I’m immediately transformed into a slab of blackened ribs.
Some don’t even make sense to me:
“Do these earrings make me look fat?”
What?? Okay, I made that one up. I am not, however, making THIS one up:
“Do these shoes bring out my eyes?”
When this query was inexplicably hurled at me I honestly thought it was a joke until I noticed that no one was smiling. As I recall, my first thought wasn’t a thought at all. It was a silent prayer. A prayer that I’d be involved in a drive-by shooting at that very moment.
I can visualize it now, the young woman would be sobbing over my casket, solemnly describing the moment when her true love was unnecessarily snatched from this unfair world before he could answer an important question.
Now, in retrospect, I fully realize that my answer should have been an immediate and resounding accolade:
“Of course they bring out your eyes but, then again, your eyes are always gorgeous and need no accentuation for one to notice and appreciate their sheer beauty. Come now, let me take you to an expensive dinner at a snobby restaurant and then we can go shopping”.
Nope, I spewed out the first thing that came to mind:
“I suppose so, if you hold them up to your head”.
I’m now astutely aware that I answered incorrectly.
I’ve never tested this tactic but I wonder if, when I find myself nailed against the impossible question wall, I were to just collapse in the fetal position and wildly cry like a small child who‘s just been stung on the face by seven giant jellyfish. Perhaps I might get a free pass. Or maybe I could fake a seizure. God, I wish there were a remote control for life. I’d use the pause button often to facilitate a clean getaway.
You’ll never catch most guys placing heavy emphasis on trivial issues such as wardrobe. Sure, we do seek counsel as to whether the shirt looks okay, but the conversation goes like this:
“Hey dude, does this shirt make me look stupid?” Answer: “Nah, you don’t need a shirt to do that but it looks cool, let’s grab a beer and shoot some pool”.
End of story…we got things to do.
One of my favorite questions came from my ex:
“Do you want to go with me to visit my family?”
Translation:
“Would you be interested in driving 70-miles each way and spend the day around a pack of screaming nephews who appear to be on crack cocaine? Then we’ll probably play a 28-hour game of Scrabble with people who make up their own words and I will sleep while you drive us 70-miles back in the middle of the night.” Obviously, in order to keep the peace, the answer must always be “I would be delighted, let’s go now so we can get there early and make the most of it…I‘ll go get the car sweetie!! Let‘s stop for latte‘ on the way.”
It may seem boring, but many people are perfectly content with sitting around watching 15-hours of ESPN or every last second of the NFL draft. I think that it keeps people out of trouble, especially guys. As a matter of fact, they should install Jumbo-Tron televisions tuned to ESPN in criminal hotspots around town.
Before I’m accused of chauvinistic mentality, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that guys ask plenty of stupid questions. All of which escape me because I have the memory of a Wildebeest , but I’m reasonably certain that we exhibit dumbness more often than not. I’ve been so advised many times- plus I’ve loaned couch space to numerous friends over the years.
I remember a lesson hard learned by one of my friends when he tested the “Do not ask” waters:
“What do you think about a threesome?”
He’s lucky to be alive, especially since he named the desired third party…his girlfriend’s best friend.
Gentlemen, allow me state an obvious standing rule. When the lady returns from the salon, her hair ALWAYS looks great!
I had a buddy who threw caution to the wind on this one. His girlfriend came home sobbing about her new haircut. His reply? “It’ll grow out.” (Insert the Price is Right” loser jingle here).
If ever there were an ideal moment for a group of professional rodeo cowboys to burst through the front door and hog-tie someone and drag them to a safe distance before answering, THIS was said moment.
As I recall, he and I went out for beers that evening…I believe he had about 30.
Another question that is, almost ALWAYS loaded, is:
“Where’ve you been?”
You’ll deservedly hear this when you’ve obviously forgotten how to tell time and determined it a good idea to be about an hour and a half late for dinner or a date, etc. Here’s a dissection of trouble waiting to happen…follow closely:
“Ah, Chris got stuck on a big problem at the office so I helped him and then we chatted in the parking lot for a moment…he and Allison are having some problems.”
Be prepared that your significant other, most likely, possesses reconnaissance intel that is not even available to the National Security Agency. You will most likely receive this response:
“Well, I didn’t know that your company allowed you to drink whiskey and beer on the job. Tell me, did your office recently relocate to the pub on the corner.”
**Helpful hint: I'm not going to advise you to lie but, if you plan to do so, don’t park out front and carry a toothbrush.
Here's one of my favorites...
“What do you love about me?”
This question literally makes me bleed from the eyes. I swear that I had a buddy who responded as follows:
“The sex is awesome, especially that thing you do. I’m glad you don’t want to have kids for a long time and you’re just like one of the guys.”
I’m shocked that he didn’t have to switch sides and “get with” one of the guys due to the length of time he went without sex after puking that piece of verbal idiocy.
I try my best to answer random questions honestly, but ever so mindful that diplomacy is needed under certain circumstances. My brain sometimes hurts after walking around as though I were in a non-stop episode of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire but I suppose it’s a well paid price, most of the time.
It can be a world where white is black, black is white and 1 plus 3 equals the number of hours the silent treatment will be invoked for an idiotic answer. Hmmm, that’s not entirely a bad thing.
By the way, don’t EVER say that out loud if you know what’s good for you…don’t say I didn’t warn you.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
