Why women outlive men

I woke up late one night to use the bathroom. I needed to pee. Sleepy and with my eyes mostly closed, I slid off the bed and as it was my habit. I didn’t turn on any lights, and it was pitched dark everywhere, except for the running lights my wife insisted on installing all along the baseboards on the walls for this very reason - you know, those plug-in things that glow in the dark.

?I was working mostly from memory, bumping and stumbling into walls and furniture, but stubbornly refusing to turn on the lights, rationalizing with myself, never with my wife; with her, I am always in agreement. I rationalized that I didn't need to turn on any lights, and I finally got there, bruised and battered. At last, I finally got to the bathroom.

?Standing at the toilet but still asleep, I had a decision to make. Stand up or sit down. Now you know what happens. Being the man’s, man, I made the mistake of rationalizing again, even though my mind was working too slowly for me to think straight; after all, I was asleep, and rationalizing was not the thing I should be doing at this time. I should just sit down and go for it. But, like an idiot, I tried to figure out if the toilet seat was up or down, even when I knew it was down. Why wouldn’t it not be down? It’s the drill every man knows who is married, and even those with sleep-over girlfriends. It is never up!

?So, I reached down and pulled up the seat, and then with one eye open to help me aim, I started to pee, but you never really know how good your aim is, and mine was lousy. I panicked, making it worst, and the nicely polished white tiles were all now wet and peed over. And, to make things even worst, I decided that I would clean it up later, I didn’t want to make a ruckus in the house by waking up my wife. Well, you know what happened. I was rationalizing again — the completely wrong thing to do, but I did it anyway. I worked my way back to bed, lay down and fell asleep almost immediately, and of course, when I awoke I had forgotten all about it ?-- my bathroom escapade.

?Now, here I am sitting and having my morning coffee and reading the newspaper, none the wiser, until my wife comes out, pours her coffee, and sits down across from me. I knew then that something was up, "What was it?” I thought quietly.

?She asked out loud, “I wonder who peed all over my nice clean bathroom floor last night?"

?I peeked over my newspaper at her, and like all men, half-listening, shrugged my shoulder and responded, “I don’t know, honey.”

?But alas. As I was in the middle of my response, I remembered last night, but too late — way too late. I messed up, but couldn’t change my answer and admit that I did it. So I stayed with the answer I gave, pretending I was innocent, putting up a good manly front.

?She cleared her throat, knowing she had me cold. And knowing her, she probably brought in the FBI, CIA and even the local sheriff to do her investigation, she said to no one in particular, “Well, unless we have little gremlins in this house, or your son visited us last night . . . "? There was a short pause as she stared me down, and as I hid behind the paper, I could feel those piercing eyes of hers burning holes through it. She continued. “It must have been you, baby.”?

?I said nothing. I was caught dead, and she didn’t wait for my answer.

?She asked, “And why didn’t you just clean it up? Dammit! I just mopped the whole bathroom, kitchen, hallway and everywhere else yesterday and now this morning… you should just sit down and pee, like I do. You don’t see me standing up, do you?”

?I was still, quiet, and in my mind, made myself invisible. I rationalized that I should say absolutely nothing. Just let the wind blow over, let the storm end.

She continued, “You know your hands are shaky and you aim is terrible. Sit your old ass down and stop being so macho, you not as young as you used to be, you know.”

?I kept on reading, or pretending to read, as she got up and stormed off. I learned a long time ago, to never admit to anything because you never hear the end of it. You do it now, and every time you mess up, you gonna hear what you did twenty years ago. I don’t know how women remember that far back. I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday, or even if I ate breakfast. I know most men are that way. I did a poll among all my friends and acquaintances, and none of them remember their wedding anniversary, or the date they were married, or even what happened on their wedding night. I panic every time my wedding anniversary comes around. I’m always afraid that I will get that question from the inquisitor, or maybe the interrogator. “Honey, when did we get married?” The worst question any man can get, is because even if you know the answer, you’re still in a panic, just because you may be wrong, or it may be a trick question.

I have concluded that men should stop rationalizing and thinking so much. They should just be as emotional as women, and sit down on the toilet seat. We would live as long as women do.

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