Any man who has been in a relationship with a woman for any length of time will inevitably find himself in a situation from time to time where he is in trouble for doing absolutely nothing wrong. One can find themselves in this predicament either by inexperience, non-attentiveness, or by misguided good intentions. Over the years of my relationship with The Boss, this has happened more times than I can count. It's just a fact that us men-folk resign ourselves to, and if we're smart, we don't blame it (at least out loud) on hormones or monthly cycles.
For example, The Boss and I lived for a period of time in an apartment where there was no dishwasher. None of us wanted to wash the dishes to begin with, and especially not when they piled up in the sink for a couple of days and started smelling like the funk behind a homeless man's ear. When it could be put off no longer, the chore usually fell to me. To The Boss' defense, the apartment was on city water that was really abrasive and caused irritation on her hands, so washing dishes was painful for her. After a couple of months with having sole responsibility for dish duty, I understandably got a bit tired of it. So I, with nothing but honest and good intentions, went out to the store and bought her some rubber gloves to wear so she could help out. They weren't the cheap yellow generic gloves, either. They were pink with polka dots, non-latex, and were a bit pricey as result. When she came home, I told her that I had bought her something. She naturally got excited, thinking that it was an actual gift, not something so glaringly domestic. The look on her face when I presented to her her new pair of dish washing gloves? Well, let's just say that the phrase "if looks could kill" was invented for a reason.
I didn't learn my lesson there, either. A couple of months later, she asked me if I thought that she had lost weight. Even though we had been married for two years at this point and I knew the correct response to this question (it's always yes), I came back with this reply: "I can't tell. I see you every day, and I don't notice small changes." Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I knew that I was going to find myself in trouble, but I couldn't stop it from coming out. I tried to take it back and follow it up by saying that yes, I did think she had lost some weight, but it was far too late at that point. The damage had been done.
One classic case that gets me every time is when I'm asked, after a few minutes of expectant glances, if I had noticed anything new about the way she looks. My immediate thought process?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What's new? Is it her hair? New earrings? Did she get new shoes? Is she wearing makeup today? What is it? Fuck. FUCK!
Sometimes I think you women-folk try to make sure we're on our toes and ask this sort of question even if there isn't anything new. Either that or you like to watch us squirm while we try to come up with the response that will do the least amount of damage.
I'm not complaining at all. After all, this is a part of relationships that is universal to us all. It's not fun feeling like an ant caught in the focused light from a magnifying glass, but in the end, it's worth it.