In Which I Manage to Both Preserve My Job and Dispense Wisdom That Surprises Even Me

Back when I was in the television business, I overheard two women talking about their husbands.  It was just before Father's Day, and they were confounded by the apparently daunting task of figuring out the perfect -- or at least an acceptable -- gift.  The conversation went like this:

"What are you getting Brent for Father's Day?"
"I don't know.  Probably a blow job."
"Yes, you can never go wrong with the classics."

So this afternoon, I'm walking by a couple of women I work with and they're having pretty much the same conversation, but without the sex stuff.  They're talking about their husbands and how hard they are to shop for:

"He doesn't like anything I buy him. I could spend a million dollars and he still wouldn't like it."
"Gawd, my husband is soooo picky."

These husbands they're talking about are pretty typical guys, and the idea that they're picky is laughable.  Being regular guys, they're so picky that they'll eat cold pizza off the counter for breakfast and wear the same underwear three days in a row.  In other words, they're not picky in the least; it's just that their wives -- educated, intelligent women -- don't want to give them what they really want because what they really want is, by the standards of educated, intelligent women, embarrassing.  They want big, loud toys and tastelessly comfortable furniture and sweat pants and -- yes, Virginia -- memorable sexual experiences.

I was thinking this over when one of the women turned to me and said:

"You're a man.  What do you want for Christmas?"

Since we were in the office, there seemed no way to tell the blow job story without running afoul of some aspect or the other of the employee handbook.  (One of the challenges of changing careers for me has been the different behavioral standards of a TV program development office and the civilized world.)  So I stood there, mouth perhaps appropriately agape, wondering what to say.  In that moment, I marveled at how women don't recognize the obvious.  I apparently marveled at it long enough that one of the women said:

"Well?  Is it some kind of secret you're not allowed to tell?"

Here's what I told them, and what I'm telling you, and you will pardon me if I don't, ahead of time, congratulate myself not only for my political dexterity but also for my accidental wisdom.  I said:

"Figure out what he has that he really likes, and get him another one in a different color."

That's it: How to explain guy happiness without saying anything the Human Resources guys will get in a hissy about.

Sometimes I impress even myself.

Comments

[singthestars]

So that's the secret...

Thanks for sharing. ;p

[Jason Falls]

Before last year's Christmas, someone told my wife your line -- "Figure out what he wants and buy him another one in a different color." She bought me black porn.

Best present I've had in years.