So yesterday I tried to explain the vast differences between the male and female of our species. How’d I do in the 786 words I was able to cram into that blog? No, I didn’t think I fully explored the subject, either. But, uh, if you really want to learn more, might I suggest you check out Amazon.com? I am but a single (married) woman here. I cannot do it alone.
Vince read my blog and posted a comment, which was: “Will you crack my crab legs for me and serve them to me in hot butter?” My response? “Um. No. Wait – let me think about that for a sec…Um. NOOOO!”
Such a loving couple, aren’t we?
Ah, but I am now forced to reveal the story behind his comment.
See, when Vince and I first met, we were pretty much joined at the hip from the get-go. He quickly met my friends and I quickly met his, including his buddy, John. Now, John and Vince were cohorts in crime. And in the “Olden Days” which is also known as the Pre-Jane Era, they were both single men enjoying life and spending their free time carousing, drinking beer, hanging by the pool and meeting women, some of whom wore skimpy bathing suits.
Or so I’m told. And, okay, perhaps I am exaggerating just a tad. (I figured I’d give their male egos a little boost.) Nevertheless, they were single men and were doing the same things that a gazillion other single men spend their time doing.
John, being a store manager for a local food chain that rhymes with “Floger,” frequently alerted Vince whenever Floger’s had some great sales on meat-type products. You know – manly-men food. As both John and Vince are veritable Grill Masters, they frequently hosted cookouts and gathered a bunch of friends and girls in skimpy bathing suits to eat, drink and be merry.
One time, to hear them tell the story, they cleaned out Kroger’s – oops! – I mean Floger’s seafood department and bought up all the crab legs in the store. And then they had a crab leg feast! It apparently rivaled anything Red Lobster or Joe’s Crab Shak could ever possibly hope to offer.
Vince, ever the shy one, had a female sitting on either side of him during this dinner. And the women cracked all the crab legs for him and dunked them in butter for him and all but fed them to him.
Can you imagine??!
John was apparently impressed by this duo act of servitude and decided to test my “allegiance” to the guy who would turn out to be my future husband.
He brought home a platoon of crab legs (a school? A pod?) Whatever. He bought a mess of crab legs home and cooked them. And then waited to see if I would crack them for Vince and lovingly place them in the melted butter so he could feast to his little heart’s content.
Yeah, no…that didn’t happen. Believe me. Especially after they told me the story. I don’t do crab legs. And I would do them even less now – simply on principle.
So it has become somewhat of a joke among the three of us. What’s even more amusing to me is that John is now engaged and I cannot even imagine his fiancée spending time doing the same for John.
Don’t get me wrong. We love our guys…but we’re both pretty strong-willed women. We ain’t gonna do what we ain’t gonna do. Simple as that. Besides, no one ever mentioned “crab leg cracking” as a prerequisite to marriage. Or if it’s in the manual, I must’ve missed that page.
So, honey? You can buy all the crab legs you can find from Floger’s. Enjoy! I’ll get you a plate and a bucket. I might even melt the butter for you. But I won’t be crackin’ ‘em for you. And, no, I’m also not gonna hire a girl in a skimpy bathing suit to crack ‘em for you either. So sad.
But I still love you! And…by the way…what’s for dinner? (Correct response: “hamburgers.”)
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