'
S y Jean Komaike ,
At a party recently I heard
a husband say, "I've been married to
Ellen for 25 years, and I still don't
know whether she means what she
says, says what she means, or re
members what she said."
"Listen," answered his friend, "I've
got a mother, two sisters, a wife, and
three daughters. I ought to be wise
when it comes to women. But I'm
not! The females in my life from
2 to 70 are exactly like Russian
foreign policy: a mystery wrapped
in a puzzle enclosed in an enigma."
Whenever two men get together,
those same sentiments are heard.
Around the globe, and ever since
Adam, the human male has cried in
anguish, "I don't understand women."
The amazing thing about it all is
what's the mystery? Who created
this who-done-it about the unfath
omable femme? As a woman who
has a mother, a daughter, a sister,
and endless female friends, -I'd say
that my sex is as transparent as
Scotch tape, as clear as a mirror,
eminently practical, and altogether
sensible and sound.
It's my honest belief that the aver
age man likes to think of his women
as unpredictable, slightly flighty, and
a bit mysterious. In short, each man
gets a feeling of strength and a taste
of superiority by secretly believing
that no one else could put up with
things the way he does.
Fd be the last person. on earth to
pull these props from under the
male. But I'm the first to insist that
my men friends separate fact from
fancy when they malign my sex.
I'm tired, for instance, of the old
saw about women having "no busi
ness sense," and understanding "only
those figures which come in fur
coats." A cruel gleam lights the mas
culine eye when talk turns to wives
and money. Inevitably someone tells
a variation on an old joke. You
know, the one about the little wife
who rushes in the front door, stum
bles under a vast load of packages,
and burbles happily, "Darling, I've
just saved you a fortune with all
these bargains."
I say nonsense! Walk into your
local stores someday and see for
yourself how women spend your
money. They twitch the lettuce
heads, tilt with the butcher, and ex
amine every label. It's no small feat
these days to keep a happy balance
between vitamins and dollars, but
women are doing it.
It may be argued that the average
housewife is out of her element in
the stock market or the curb ex
change. But I maintain that there
are few traders anywhere who get
as much yield on their money as the
woman loading her market basket.
And statistics show that the Ameri
can female now controls more than
50 percent of our total wealth, makes
more than 80 percent of all pur
chases, and in most homes manages
the checkbook. Has all this hurt the
national economy? Quite the con
trary; we're enjoying a period of
record prosperity!
"TIT ell," you say, "maybe she's
penny-wise, but she's certainly
pound-foolish. Look at the way she
diets and why? To squeeze herself
into some of those utterly ridiculous
fashions."
Foolish? Foppish? Faddy? Per
haps, but there's no mystery about
it at alL Your wife keeps down on
the pounds and up on the fashions
for you. This is her way of saying
that she considers you a dashing at
tractive fellow, well worth holding.
She lifts her spirits and she hopes
yours by keeping in step with the
other women in your life: your fe
male colleagues at the office, your
, secretary, and the chic career girls
you see in restaurants. You ought
. to be nattered, not flustered, that she
cares so much.
You ought to be delighted, too,
when she begins to nag about going
out at night Remember, you're not
the only one who's tired at the end
of the day. If your wife is willing to
curl her hair, powder her nose, and
slip on her best dress, it's because
she desires your companionship and
because now and then she likes to
have others see what a fine "catch"
you really are.
I've never understood why men
find this female penchant for fun and
romance so baffling. Or why they are
so perturbed that their wives are
eternal matchmakers. Sometimes I
suspect that men can't spot a com
pliment right under their noses.
That's exactly what the business of
matchmaking adds up to.
There's no doubt that women get
dreamy-eyed when they plot the f u-
ture of two "unattached" persons;
and no doubt either that they strut
like Caesar when these well-laid
plans work out. But I insist that this
is the best testament I know that
your marriage has been good so
good, in fact, that your wife wants
all her friends to be as happy and
as fortunate.
Of course, men always say that
when women were created, one rib
and all logic were forgotten. I've
heard fathers and brothers and hus
bands emphasize this idea with end
less stories. Have you heard the one
about the wife who gave her hus
band two neckties for Christmas?
Poor guy. He thanked her heartily,
then an hour later waltzed into the
living room wearing one of them.
"Nice, eh?" he said, kissing. his
wife. She looked up at him with hurt
eyes. "What's wrong," she asked,
"didn't you like the other one?"
Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes
" once said, "Life is not logic." He
should have added, "Thank good
ness." For if we rationed each kiss
4 Family Weekly, May 5, 1957
ramuy irmuy, may a, 1999 - 3