Lord knows I never set out to be a feminist. It’s really not
in my genetic chemical make-up, having been born and bred in the backward state
of Kansas. Even my mom, who I used to think was the most independent woman
ever, recently said, “Politics need men in office!”(She clenches her fists in a
show of power.) “Someone who’s led by God. A man! A really strong man!”
I’m not gonna get into politics, let alone the silly, sexist
rhetoric of her proclamation. But she’s wrong.
Usually in my books, I begin with a male protagonist. But
it’s the female characters who soon take center-stage, pretty much hijacking
the action. They’re shrewder, much savvier.
They’re the characters who pull the clueless guy’s butt out of the fire . It just flows naturally, nothing I ever planned.
Because I write from proof. Maybe it comes from a deeply embedded
mind-set that all men know but are unwilling to admit: women are more logical
than men. Contrary to TV and movies, I believe women are ruled less by emotion.
They can survive anything. If the movie, Rudy,
played over wide-screen TV’s in a bar, the stool-campers would be reduced to tears
in seconds.
And what do men like to do? Fix things! Heck yeah! Jump
right in, make things right, no moss on us! But what happens when we can’t fix
things? We get lost in a world that’s incomprehensible to us. After we’ve
played out our ineffectual macho attempts to make things right, women swoop in
and save the day.
So far this is all just theory. But based on my highly
scientific research, here are the astonishing—yet absolutely true—findings:
FACT! While watching movies, I’m always the sobby mess by
the end of it. I can’t even think about the kid movie, Homeward Bound, without fogging up. (Oh…that final scene…sniff). My
wife asks if I’m alright. Totally embarrassing.
My “Man Card” should probably be revoked.
FACT! Outside of spider visits, my wife can handle any
crisis. Made of steel. She’s more prepared for the End of the World, always thinking ahead, one foot set in the bomb shelter.
FACT! Our dog respects my wife more than me. Why? Because
I’m the lovable playmate. Dang dog ignores me. But when my wife barks, the dog
bows down. He’s no dummy.
FACT! Whenever confronted with a store
or restaurant trauma, my wife’s the clean-up player. The way I “handle” the
situation? I scream, shake and sweat like latter day Elvis. Heart
attack in a Hawaiian shirt. Nothing good ever comes from my hissy-fits. My wife
smoothly rolls in like a pavement layer and attains positive results with cool
calm.
FACT! Women aren’t too proud to ask for directions.
I mean, who does that, right?
FACT! Women live longer than men. Because, duh, they’re
smarter.
If you’re a man reading this, I apologize, just ignore it. You'll forget about it soon enough. Women readers? You know I’m right.
For further FACTS, check out my “women are smarter than men
books.” Every last one of ‘em features a woman as the hero. (Never mind the shirtless male model on the cover below; it's the character's wife who's the true hero).
Click on the cover below for a preview!
