ISTBO GuruSpot- Have An Easy Life

In the light of the shocking statistics from our US correspondent on the horrific shoe induced injuries inflicted on men by women I have decided as a public service to try to teach my genderfellows The Way (TM). It is true indeed that we women love our shoes, although for varying different reasons. Some women regard shoes as objects of beauty, some as an integral part of controlling their image, some as a thing to spend money on to dare their partners to question them about. Some, like me, have horrendous trouble finding shoes that fit and simultaneously do not ming, and thus when such a thing is found, love and adore them as the true rarities they are. But one way or another, we love our shoes. Even if it's only because we've purposely bought one pair of stubbornly unfashionable shoes a year as a statement of not being a typical shoe obsessed woman.
I, for example, have a pair of white cowboy boots, and they are perfect. They are beautiful, they go with pretty much everything except the red velvet ballgown I bought at the Samhain Convention (and thinking about it I'd even get away with that if I was in New Orleans at Mardi Gras and I accessorised correctly), and this has the added advantage of meaning I don't need to go through the personally difficult and hated process of shopping for any more shoes. They are comfortable, too, with non towering heels and zips up the sides to ensure a snug fit. They also stand as a warning, although they are commonly mistaken as a fashion statement, that allowing me to chose the next CD to go on may result in both Country and Western, and thus would be an essential part of my image even if Emmylou hadn't already eulogised the joys of white shoes. I LOVE my cowboy boots. The only disadvantage to them is that they occasionally make me buy outfits for them (it's green gingham vintage, and they'd just given me £45 for an old frock I didn't wear and just wanted rid of, what was I meant to do?).
Now, to make me risk damaging my beautiful beautiful boots on my husbands provenly solid skull, he'd have to fuck my sister AT LEAST. And why waste time lobbing shoes if you're gonna kill a man anyway? My concern is, then, that so many women are getting so angry with their men as to chuck their Choo's about. What can be going on? Women are more intelligent, less quick tempered, and more responsible. As a woman you should be in control of the situation. Allowing a man to wind you up to the point where you bounce your bhlaniks off his bonce can only be viewed as a personal failure. I began to formulate a theory long ago as to why this happens to other people and not to me, whilst watching an old flatmate wonder why her boyfriend didn't do exactly what she wanted him to all the time when you'd think he'd know better, given what a bitch she was about it all. Then I saw a program on TV that made the answer crystal clear. And that program was?
Supernanny.
Now obviously it's not exactly the same thing. If we could (or hey, if you can, go sister!) pick our sweethearts bodily up and stick them on the naughty spot for twenty two minutes while we watch 'What not to wear' in peace, we would, but we can't. No, the answer lay in Supernanny's secret: Go down to their level and explain it clearly and firmly, and don't expect adult logic from a five year old. In the same way you must instead of ranting at your man, try for a moment to think like him (how hard do you really think that can be?), then either explain it in a way he'll understand or give him an option he won't want to dispute. This, now I think about it, is what I've been doing. Let me give you a few examples.
Computer games. There can be many problems with these, ranging from time spent on them to noise made by them. Firstly, don't make unnecessary problems. If he's on the PC playing a game for hours, there's nothing wrong with this unless he's supposed to be doing something else, or you want his undivided attention for something. Some women seem to be under the impression that they should stop men doing this just because. Don't be stupid. If he asked you to stop doing something for no good reason, you wouldn't. Now, if you do need him to do something, some housework for example, wander past him saying, in a non-nagging, easy-going tone of voice "Ok, so when you've cleaned the bathroom I'm going to have a shower, and then I'll sort out dinner." Man hears: No Clean, No Food. This is a concept he can deal with, thus the bathroom gets cleaned. He's not likely to make life difficult for himself by questioning why you need to have a shower before you cook, as worse case scenario, you might further interrupt Quake by telling him. You don't actually have to have a shower, because the one thing you're always allowed to do is change your mind, and he's not going to object to Food Sooner. You must not negotiate. You must state clearly that not doing what you want results inevitably in a consequence he likes less.
This is how you get him off a Playstation attached to the only TV, too. He's using the TV, so you can't be watching it. The solution is to have the phone in the same room, and when you're sick of hearing Grand Theft Auto, take the phone, a copy of The National Enquirer, sit down next to him and call a friend in order to bitch ceaselessly about every scrap of gossip therein. He'll be off within two pages. If you don't like noisy games, buy him a quiet one . No toy is better to a man than a new toy, and he's only going to love you more for buying him that sort of present, be it for a birthday or just so he wont notice you hiding the disc for Midnight Club Racing in the Bridget Jones' Diary DVD case. If you simply want his undivided attention, take your top off. It really is that simple.
You will find that cracking the computer games issue has positive knock on effects for the rest of you life. Men are by nature lazy creatures, not prone to venturing outside their pits unless there's something in it for them or you've told them not to. If you're not going to whinge about the computer games, which if you follow the above instructions you wont be doing, he'll just sit in playing them. Or rather, they'll think that's what they'll be doing, not having noticed your sly ways of capping gametime. If it actually doesn't bother you if Saturday daytime is boy in boxers in front of the screen time, let it be. If you've not mentioned it from 11am to 5pm, come 5pm he's going to have a hard time denying you whatever it is you want to do or watch after that point, if it even occurs to him to dare trying. This works for watching sports too. If he gets two hours of football, can he really say anything if you want to watch Romi & Michelle's Highschool Reunion that evening? And risk you complaining about the Grand prix the next day? They may be uncomplicated, but they're not stupid. Mostly.
Now say you do want him to stop playing or watching whatever it is. This one works every time. Repeat after me "Oh, ok, if you're watching that I might just head out and do some shopping. There's a sale on at Schuh." Translation: Supervise me or reap the consequences. You know you want those pink converse trainers at twenty quid. He's picturing £100 down from £200 Fuck Me boots and getting pre-emptive feelings of violence towards other men who may see you wearing them, including the shop assistants serving you when you buy them. Or "Oh is it the football tonight? That's useful, ***** (insert name of least approved of lunatic hard drinking liability friend here) said she fancied popping to the Irish pub for Happy Hour, I'll give her a call." You'll be eating loaded potato skins and drinking gin in a compromise pub with him within the hour.
Now, what about him going out all night and coming back plastered? Mine actually does this bout twice a year tops, so it's not such a problem. Plus he's a very cute drunk, all giggly! But if he is on his way out and you don't want him to come back insensible, be naked and on your way to the shower or actually in the bath when he goes out. Have your smallest nightie lying around nearby. Suggest you'll be spending the evening painting you toenails and de-fluffing, and make it plain that good boys who come home sober enough will reap the benefits. If he's damn fool enough to ignore that, he loses. Really other than not waking you up when he comes in if you need the sleep desperately for some reason, that would be the reason you'd want him to come in half sober anyway. It also concentrates his mind wonderfully on how damn sexy you are before he goes anywhere there might be little tarts waving their arses at him.
And so it goes on, basic rules applicable to almost anything.
So to recap:
Don't start pointless arguments, it makes you look weak and makes him less inclined to behave all round.
To get him to do something, state that it must be done for the next thing he wants to be possible.
To get him not to do something, demonstrate that there are worse things for him than not doing whatever it is.
If all else fails, appeal to their baser instincts.
Trust that when he gets used to these tactics, he will learn to just not when he shouldn't without even realizing it.
This results in a happy, un-nagged, satisfied man who does not perceive you as someone who tries to stop him doing what he wants, and a happy, non-nagging, Satisfied you, who hardly ever has to stop him doing anything. These are not ways of conning your man into buying you lots of stuff, or getting your own way all the time or control him. If you're trying to do that, as the Dixie Chicks say, there's your trouble. You're a bitch, and the poor simple lad probably deserves an easier life.
The men amongst you may notice that you can use these rules to get that easy life you dream of. If you want to watch the Six Nations, check the paper for movies or programs she loves that evening, and suggest a takeaway and said movie that night. Snoozing through it wont kill you. If you don't want her to buy that dress, tell her either a) you're too gorgeous to need that! That's for women who need help getting attention or b) what about this one, I've always loved you in this colour. Don't want to go to the pub with her harpy mate? Suggest you come too and bring the friend she doesn't like, or how about you two go somewhere and meet up with them later when you're sufficient pints in to cope with it. And don't do really stupid things like forgetting your anniversary or sniping all the way through her favorite show about how terrible the acting/script/plot is. Unless of course you're a gifted sexy perfect genius like my husband, who is capable of restricting your bile to well timed hilarities about how on earth that south African bird on Ten Years Younger can possibly talk about fashion in those glasses, and how fucking stupid it is to have plastic surgery unless you're disfigured in an accident or something. Ahhhh! See? That's how you get to keep us till we're old and wrinkly and enjoy every minute of it!