Gherkin Street

By Donna Dinger:

Ok, so the “Blogmaster” asked me to provide a woman’s perspective to the website suggesting I write about what it is like to be married to Red.

Can you imagine what it is like to go through life as Mrs Donna Dinger? I was a peaceful person before I married Red but now whenever someone asks me “Can you hum?” I unleash a woman’s fury. Thank god I have a sense of humour or I'd be in a mad-house by now.

That paragraph embodies some of the major differences between Red and me and I'd go so far as to say it even covers all (straight) men and most women. Men like to parade about with silly nicknames attached to their heads like “Blogmaster”. Red likes to call himself “the love machine” – as if! I own a love machine and if I could teach it, my vibrator, to earn an income then I'd soon retire Red.

Why do men insist on coming up with such silly nicknames for themselves. Even the standard ones like “Bluey” or “Jacko” are nothing more than walls to hide their underdeveloped emotions. What do they have to fear from their own names? Ironic that they ask us to take them! Work it out boys, nicknames are childish and inane.

You shout them out at nightclubs and then look at us smiling an “Aren’t I so clever because I invented another name” look. Wow you must be a rocket scientist for coming up with "Warney" for Warne! Nicknames are not alluring. While the ones like “Trigger” and “Tripod” may raise an eyebrow, at the end of the day, just like sex, the joy of hearing your wonderful nicknames lasts about two seconds (whereas you men think it lasts for years).

Men might be bigger, stronger and smellier but none of them can stand up to a woman’s fury. They all cower like, well, cowards. Funny how they stand around in pubs reliving their greatest sporting memories and beating their chests like silver-backed Gorillas but as soon as they get home to face the wife its head bowed, bottom lip out and “yes dear, sorry dear.” I suspect its because deep down all men want is to be loved so when chastised they retreat to their childhoods or storm off into their caves. Poor little darlings.

That I suppose brings me to sex. Red is a great lover, perhaps the greatest on the planet. He asked me to write that and so I will humour him, just like in the bedroom. But seriously, how could a woman come to the conclusion that a man is a great lover in just seventeen seconds?

A man and a woman are wired totally differently. We can both work a 16 hour day, collapse into bed exhausted but if Red (or any man) so much as glimpses me (or any woman) naked before he closes his eyes then he gets enamoured.

For women, its not about sex its about intimacy. I have no idea why Webster continues to forlornly put the word “intimacy” in the dictionary because men just don’t get it and probably never will. No point crying over it, might as well say yes and then we can all get some sleep. Just like in the bedroom. Oh well, I can wait another seventeen seconds …

Men seem to associate sex with a lot of things – alcohol, food, sports, being awake …. Women associate sex with childbirth. If they haven’t been through it they have heard enough of it to be wary. Those that have experienced it don’t seem all that keen on sex for sex’s sake. Funny that. He comes home from the pub reeking of alcohol and a kebab and all he can think of is sex while all she can think of is unbelievable pain with drugs that didn't work. I'm aroused just thinking about it.

And another thing, we don’t find penises all that attractive. Put it away, Red. I do not want to sit at home while you walk about with your penis hanging out. Nor, Red, do I accept your excuse that it is incapable of doing anything else.

Sure there have been times that I've enjoyed good sex, even great sex and some of those times Red was even present. But its just not that important to me or most women for that matter. I'd rather go shopping and come home to a house that’s been cleaned with the lawn mowed, the garbage out and the kids nutritiously fed and in bed soundly asleep.

If I did I would probably smile, sigh, apologise and then walk next door to my house.