How does this look?


Hang around in a relationship for very long and sooner or later you will become the sounding board for your significant other on choice of clothing.
Long gone will be the days when she showed up in clothes of her choice she was just sure was right to impress you. Those days are replaced by what we men call “the parade.”
A “parade” is pretty much what it sounds like as she will come out of the bedroom in an outfit and ask you if it looks “okay.” Now to the man sitting in his chair waiting for her to get ready, anything short of a Lady Godiva outfit would suffice.
And honestly, Ol’ Dutch often wonders at this point how he suddenly became an expert on ladies fashion wear. I mean I quit reading Fashion magazine after quitting Delilah’s Salon and Boutique.
But Miss Trixie still trusts my faultless intuition and will give me the “parade” when going out.
Most men are quick to learn that a woman asking “does this make me look fat?” is not an inquiry for truthfulness on her part but a need for her man to lie. Besides, she already knows it does and pointing out that the pants look fine but it is her butt that has grown is probably not the wisest choice.
If you read about women and men much you will find out that generally men want to fix things and women just need an ear. That leads to a constant battle as she just needs you to sit there like a bump on a log and nod every so often even if you don’t agree.
Miss Trixie is the most wonderful cook in the world as evidenced by my big belly but even that has its downfalls as far as communication goes.
Sunday morning dawned bright and cold in Texas with cows mooing and birds chirping their welcome to the day. Trixie was up and at ‘em and when Ol’ Dutch finally was ready to face the day he was greeted with a breakfast of pancakes and eggs.
Sunny side up if you please and it only took me six years to finally tell her that’s how I prefer my eggs. For the first six years, I hated to be critical about a free breakfast of scrambled eggs, her preferred egg choice. So, for six long years I did not utter a word and simply wolfed down her yucky scrambled eggs.
Finally working up enough nerve to tell Trixie my preference, I now get them like God created them. Up. The Sunday pancakes, though, came off the grill a tad on the dark side according to Miss Trixie and even though they tasted like a kiss from a chain smoking monkey, Ol’ Dutch was going to eat them uncomplaining. That is until Miss Trixie said she had some more if those were too dark.
Taking into account my recent success on the eggs I gathered up my courage and told her they were horrible. Well let me tell you, Friends, that the truth is often best hidden even when asked and Trixie gave me the “woman treatment.” That includes a short snort and how now SHE would eat them.
For you see, even though Ol’ Dutch has been through 30 years of training under the Wicked Witch of the North, he still cannot seem to get it right with women.
It reminds me of the guy who said his wife talks to him in questions -- as most do, I think. She asked him “And whose underwear are on the floor there?” To which he replied, “Well I hope they are mine or I have some questions of my own to ask.”
Life does get better when you get to the point that most things really don’t seem to matter at which time you can say “I don’t care” to any questions asked. That answer is wrong, too, most of the time as she wants your input so she can do the opposite.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected] Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.


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