What Your Wife Told Me and Hundreds More On Mother's Day.

On the currently popular TV show, “Desperate Housewives” there is a recurring scenario in which the women of Wisteria Lane gather for their weekly poker game and, more importantly, their weekly gripe session. As cards are dealt and coffee is consumed, the 5 protagonists relate anecdotes describing- -sometimes in painful detail- - their banal lives, each being more desperate than the others, of course.

As expected, one of the most often repeated themes of their gripes is that of the stupid, selfish, insensitive, dopey, over-sexed, moronic, clueless husband/boyfriend who has somehow managed to be, yet again, the source of their desperation. It is a scene every male in America in a committed relationship with a woman knows exists in their circle of friends, if not through card games then via such seemingly innocent gatherings as book clubs, charity work or community activism. And every man is glad he is not there to hear what’s being said. Instead we have always taken comfort in the fact that such gatherings are what pass for “social contact” in well defined local circles of close knit friends and the comments are unlikely to travel beyond the limited number of people involved directly in that group. Like the five Desperate Housewives, for instance.

But, guys, if you still think your reputation among your wives/girlfriends is pretty much contained within “poker-club” or “book-club” and immune from spreading to the wider world, such as your workplace, you are clearly clueless about something called “Social Media” in general and “Face Book” in particular. Wikipedia defines social media, in part, as “…a fusion of sociology and technology, transforming monologue (one to many) into dialog (many to many)…” Whereas “book-club” or “poker-club” and the like is/was a form of monologue, Face Book and its cousins My Space and Twitter are definitely about dialog and “many to many” communication. So, gentlemen let me tell you what I learned about you- -none of whom I know- - and what I think of you thanks to Social Media this past Mother’s Day.

It began with a post from a FB “friend” of mine a college educated, 40ish woman, married with two children. I’ll call her “Pea”. I’ve never met Pea but became her FB friend a few months ago through a mutual friend we have in common. We have maintained our FB friendship because of like politics, a similar sense of humor and shared conservative values. Pea opened a “thread” of communication in which she grayly viewed Mother’s Day as “just another day”. Her posting was immediately available for all 80 of her ‘friends’ (including me) to see and to add comments. It didn’t take long before her female friends started adding their thoughts about Mother’s Day, family and husbands, each comment immediately being made available to every other commenter and every other ‘friend’ of Pea. I decided to “sit it out” and be a passive observer as one after another of Pea’s friends weighed in about her own lousy Mother’s Day. I was the proverbial “fly on the wall” at the book club. I was invisible but none-the-less seated at the poker table with the Desperate Housewives, all thanks to my Face Book account and my “friend” Pea. No subject escaped my eyes. None of the many profanities- -including countless f-bombs - - eluded me. No pang of unfulfillment went un-noticed. And, boys, here’s what you need to know.

Pal, if you think a pair of bejeweled Japanese chopsticks is an endearing gift to a smart woman, you’re a moron. Amigo, if you think a pig-out brunch is a treat to a woman who already thinks her ass is too big, you’re an idiot. Mon ami, if you think a $99 bauble from McJewlers is gift enough for a woman who stretched her vagina out bearing your 3 brats, you really are clueless. Friend, if you thought a Hallmark card and a few posies would bring tears of joy to her eyes instead of tears of frustration, you get the dope of the year award. And by the way bubba, if you thought you didn’t have to honor your princess bride at all on Mother’s Day because she’s not your mama, there’s no hope, you are just plain retarded. Oh, and did I forget to mention that every one of your wives is very well acquainted with the f-word and capable of using it as every other word in a complete sentence with a clueless you as the subject?

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. Because if you haven’t figured out by now that your 40ish, Gen-X wife is not really a radicalized feminist but just another person who wants to be loved, appreciated and respected, you really are brain-dead. And finally, if you still think your short-comings are known only to the precious few in the book-club or at the poker table in what ever town you live- - -wise up and shape up. I’m the “Sage of Tampa” and I know about you and thanks to Face Book it won’t be long before everybody else will, too. It’s a brave new world, chum. Start living in it.