A male friend of mine, in a fit of rage, mind you, dropped in at my house unannounced, and begged me to swing a golf club with him over a couple of “brewskis”.
I don’t play golf, nor do I drink beer. So I really must’ve been his last port of call. Was everyone still on holidays? In fact not. Everyone is back in suit and tie, in the safe confinement of their air-conditioned offices, creating 2011 business plans.
With a pained expression, he ‘fessed up: “Chicks and New Year’s resolutions just don’t mix.” Or perhaps they mix too well.
That was easy enough. I would be a straight shooter with him. “Luckily for you, big guy, you don’t have a chick,” I said in reply.
But his chief complaint was not that he didn’t have a nubile young female thing, nor was he complaining about the fact that all of his male friends had one either. His primary concern lay in the fact that his friends’ girlfriends were leaving him friendless.
Apparently, the modus operandi of New Year’s resolutions no longer rests on the bearer, so to speak. Simply put: girlfriends make boyfriends do New Year’s resolutions now.
I was quick to protest. Men have been snuffing out their final cigarette butts and hitting the treadmill for years, all by themselves, thank you very much. My friend explained that he could expect one of his hitched friends to take at least half a year sabbatical from hanging out with the boys. From the 1st of January, the girlfriend had insisted — hands squeezed tightly around said friend's nuts — that under no circumstances would he be allowed to drink, smoke, or eat anything that tasted mildly satisfying. He’d also be up at 6:00am sharp to embark on some light jogging across town every morning.
“Guys go to the pub or do stuff together that ends up usually involving the pub!” (My guy friend began to wail at this point.) “I suggested we go ten pin bowling, but even then he said he couldn’t do it as it would mess with his fitness plan the following day. She’s given him a Nazi-style set of resolutions that he has absolutely no control over. You have to do something!”
I started to think about this and realised that some guys (those ones who just don't know how to say no to the blokes) may make out that their girlfriends have them on a tight leash even when they don't. Maybe my friend's buddies were just waiting for the perfect whip wielding Nazi-chick to come around so that they could spend some time at home nibbling on salad and twisting themselves into weird yoga positions... Yet somehow that didn't seem that a likely.
All this submissive “Man Eaten By She Male” talk started to make me wonder whether I was taking the right course of action with my own man. I’d given myself a few new rules to start the year (and maybe suggested to him that he should follow them too), like lay off the pies and do squats. Would that cramp his style?
Don’t girls who are deemed good wife material look after their men? Don’t men marry women who have a grip on salads?
We sipped morosely on our beers, me miserable for being a potentially mean girlfriend and my buddy contemplating living his life friendless. Hell, I’d better shape up and hide this beer if I hope not to be a spinster for the rest of my life.
After contemplating our potential demise for some time (and swallowing a few more beers), I thought Screw it if I give a damn. If being marriage material requires me to make my dude run around the block eight times before work, then clearly I’m not suited for marriage. It leaves me feeling a little worried when the saying "behind every good man is a woman" horrifically transforms to "behind some men are ball-clamping bitches".
That said boys, do yourselves a favour and make your own New Year's resolution to grow a steel pair of balls.