Dudes, You Want Action? Help Your Wives!

Ok, so let me start by warning any of you gentle readers to avert your eyes and click away right now: this post is rated R for Really, I Warned You First.


~~~~Waiting~~~~



~~~~Last chance~~~~



Alright; I'm assuming if you're still with me, you're ready for anything.


We're mere days away from Christmas, meaning there's a whole bunch of dudes out there still scrambling to get something for their wives or girlfriends.

Because we all know who runs the Christmas show, don't we? I mean, Knute is always helpful when it comes to wrapping gifts and addressing cards, but the majority of the Christmas planning falls to me.

I would be remiss, however, if I didn't mention that he did make a manger last night out in the garage for our Nativity scene.

Late last night.

In the flipping cold.

With scrap wood from our cedar fence.

All because he didn't want Baby Jesus to spend yet another year exposed to the elements on our heirloom table.

Knute, in my estimation, carries his weight just fine.

But Knute is not representative of all dudes {which is a big reason why I married him}; there are many dudes out there who are empty handed as we round third and head for home this Christmas.

And, because nature hates a vacuum, there are marketers eagerly pushing their products with smarmy commercials. I've seen one for this product about five times in the last two hours on FOXnews:


Want to watch the commercial? You can see it here; I warn you, there's some chicks stripping down to their undies and bras in the beginning, all because they're SO grateful that their main dude got them jammies for Christmas.



And the dudes?



Smirking that I'm-gonna-get-some smirk.*



So what irks me about this commercial? What doesn't, is what I should really ask. But let's just play along and make a happy little list, shall we?



1. The women are adoringly fawning of their smirk-faced dudes who got them pjs. PJs. Not diamonds, or an Acura, or, even better - Merry Maids for a year or a babysitter once a month for a night out without the kids. The quiet feminist in me shudders at the idolotry on the women's faces.



2. The dudes in the commercial themselves. Did I mention the smirks? The thirteen-year-old-boy-who-just-"accidentally"-touched-the-pretty-teacher's-boob smirk? C'mon, ad agencies. In real life, these kind of guys do NOT get the girl; what they do get is a well-worn stool at the corner bar that is theirs, night after night.



3. The voice-over dialogue in the commercial, starting with, "If you really want to get her to take her clothes off this Christmas...," and leading up to the women in the pjs. The dialogue is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Why? Because it assumes that a) the only thing men want from their women is sex; and, even better, b) we women are all a bunch of cold fish.



And herein lies the crux of my rant, peeps.



Dudes, if you haven't been feeling the love from your wife, maybe taking a long and honest look at yourself and your behavior toward her will better your chances of scoring this holiday season. Or any other season, for that matter.



PJs alone will not {should not!} get you a free ticket to candyland.



What women really want for Christmas?



We want our men to see us in full, to see all that we do, day in and day out, Monday through Sunday for our families and our jobs and our communities.



We want our men to see us and say, "Damn, that amazing woman is my wife!" to themselves.**



And then we want them to say it to us.



And to lend a hand once in a while.



So dudes? Those of you in a last-minute search for the perfect gift?

Write your wife a letter and tell her how much you love her and how humbled you are for all she does so selflessly for your family.



Then leave it taped to a pile of laundry you folded for her while she was busy making Christmas just right for your family.



Love, methinks, will follow.



*I warned you.



**Knute says this to me every day. Ok, well not every day, but he's never short on words when it comes to appreciating me. Or encouraging me in my writing, especially writing a big breakout novel since he would then be able to leave Big Corporate Giant Company and make little wooden mangers in the garage all day long.