OK, We're Wimps!

Recently, I was reminded of a cold, hard fact of life; women get some kind of depraved pleasure when men endure pain and suffering.

Perhaps part of the reason for this is the difference in the way women and men shoulder their infirmities. When sick, a woman goes about her daily tasks quietly bearing her afflictions, never letting on she’s feeling the least bit of discomfort. Former Mrs. Bagley, for instance, could be in the throws of tetanus, yet she’d scurry about the house, vacuuming, wiping down walls, washing windows, etc, as she whistled some light-hearted, high-stepping tune, all while her muscles contorting and contracting from the wretched disease.

When I, on the other hand, suffer some great physical ailment (something excruciatingly painful like, say, a hangnail), I’ll constantly, and very loudly, whine and moan, letting the whole world in on my misfortune. I’ll also insist all living things in the universe stop what they’re doing and wait with bated breath to see if I’ll survive such a torturous ordeal.

But there are other reasons women feel such warped amusement when men suffer unbearable pain, and one of those reasons is childbirth. Let’s face it, once a woman gives birth, that experience serves as an all-time barometer of pain. No injury, no suffering, no illness a man might endure will even draw close to what a woman experiences during childbirth.

Pity, forget about it, boys. You can be hit on the interstate by a semi-truck doing 80 mph, and if you miraculously survive all you’ll hear from the ladies is “You think that hurts you ought to have to squirt 10 pounds of human flesh out of you. That’s when you’ll know what pain is!”

I remember a few years back when I passed a kidney stone. Instead of sympathy from my female co-workers I received sadistic smiles and saw a wicked glee in their eyes as I described the agonizing, painful experience.

You see, women understand that passing a kidney stone is the closest a man can get to experience the pains of childbirth, and women take great sadistic joy in hearing us describe our excruciating ordeal. Though my female co-workers didn’t say it, I could tell by the expression on their faces what they were thinking; “You ought to squirt 10 pounds of human flesh out of you. Then you’ll know what pain is.” I finally just shut up about it and kept the telling of my story to just the men. Hey, I’d endured enough, why pile humiliation on top of everything else?

Yes, it’s a historical fact, men. Throughout time we’ve never received, nor will we ever receive, empathy from the ladies when it comes to pain and suffering. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t understand it and . . . OUCH! I’d better end this now. My pinkies are sore and are blistered from all of this typing.

Ohhhhh the pain is unbearable. We’re out of aspirin! Oh no, how am I supposed to endure this excruciating agony without something for the pain?