"Women are never happy."

I hear this so often.

My own husband likes to use it a lot.

It's mostly said in a joking tone, sometimes with a disgusted curl of the lip, and always with a little exasperation around the edges. And then it's recieved with raised eyebrows and a knowing nod, as though the top-secret password to the less-than-secret "Dude Realm" has been accepted. From one fat, lazy, worthless man to another, this is their in-joke, their version of "size does matter".

Women like apologies when you're wrong, but when you apologize, she's still mad because you had to be asked for an apology. Or maybe, you didn't apologize the right way. A lot of the time, it's probably because she's still mad you did anything that needed an apology to begin with.

Ah, women.

It annoys me, but to some extent, it's true. Women are never happy. But I really think it has something to do with the fact that men never do anything right. Take my darling, dumpling husband for example. To protect his anonymity, we'll change his name to "Richard", but in the interest in saving time, let's shorten that to "Dick". Now, Dick has the very distinct privelege of knowing exactly what makes me angry, exactly how to avoid it, and exactly how to fix it when, inevitably, he does it anyway. I can't help but feel a large portion of Dude Realm would be thrilled to have such a treasure chest of knowledge, these little gems that would likely make most of their lives easier. Dick is, more or less, unimpressed with his secret weapons.

Waste not, want not, that's my (new) motto.

Perhaps we should rob Dick of the pleasure of the world's best kept secrets?