By Selwyn Duke
It occurred to me a while back, as I thought about my chauvinistic teasing of a woman who is very close to my heart, that I had stumbled into genius. For if you’re looking for a litmus test for a prospective wife there’s none better then that of the tweaking of the modern female ego. All you need do is utter words such as “You do that very well . . . for a girl” with a twinkle in your eye and a boyish smirk on your face, and observe what ensues. Her reaction will tell you more about her than any computer dating service or impromtu little encounter session ever could. For as sure as night follows day, the degree to which her reaction is negative will be directly proportional to the degree to which she’s been inculcated with feminism.
It works like a charm because while feminism has sought to help women achieve parity with men in all areas of life, there is one area where women have not only equaled men but have actually outstripped them hands down: ego. Yes, ego, the element of the human psyche that can move mountains, turn molehills into them or destroy them, the inflated version of which was once considered to be a male province. It’s one reason why, gentlemen, so many of you feel you have to walk on eggs around the female species. It’s why, ladies, so many of you are always trying to prove yourselves to the male one.
Don’t believe me? Well, I’ll submit the following to you for consideration. Ego is like darkness: the more there is the less you can see. A person who is humble can see himself as he is, warts and all. Oh, he may acknowledge his strengths in a matter of fact way, since humility and false modesty don’t necessarily go hand in hand. But he’ll be able to confess his weaknesses with the same ease. The egotist sees himself as he desperately wants to be. And he will rationalize to the hilt to preserve that unrealistic self-image, and woe betide the hapless creature who threatens that delusion with a dose of reality.
For example, if I say that I can beat my ninety-five year old aunt in tennis any day of the week, it’s not necessarily a statement that’s motivated by ego. After all, she is an elderly woman who doesn’t play tennis whereas I am a professional player who spent some time competing on the circuit. If, however, I insist I could best Andre Agassi anytime, anywhere, my grossly unrealistic expectations make it obvious that my ego is trumping my reason.
Now, let’s analyze the state of modern American womanhood in light of the above facts. Most of us – this includes most men and the women who have their feet on the ground [the feminist ones will just bristle at the observations contained herein and perhaps become, er . . . uh, hysterical – wink] – know what constitute fightin’ words around the prototypical modern sheila, or PMS [a little Australian lingo there]. Just make even a vague allusion to male superiority in a certain field of endeavor and her ire will be raised, making you a prime target for a good hen-pecking. And don’t think the validity of what you say will have any bearing on her reaction, because the relevant factor is not the truth of your claim but the political-correctness of it.
For instance, make the completely correct claim that women are not as good in sports as men and you’ll reap the whirlwind. No matter that the statement accords completely with easily verifiable external reality. After all, the women’s world record for the mile of 4:13 pales in comparison to even the boys’ high school record, which is about 3:52. And while the size of the gap between the sexes varies from sport to sport, sports in general mirror the aforementioned almost across the board. But what does the PMS’s bristling at such a statement of obvious fact and her protestations to the contrary tell you about her? Her exhibition of grossly unrealistic expectations tells you exactly what mine did in the hypothetical situation in which I insisted that one of the best tennis players of all time had nothing on me. It bespeaks of an all-consuming ego.
Then I think back to when I used to teach tennis full time. One day I was teaching a fellow who was the better part of sixty years old. After seeing his fairly syrupy, youthful service motion and the ample power it yielded, I remarked to him that he generated incredible pace for a man his age. The look on his face bore witness to the pleasure he took in the compliment. I taught children, too, and if I would mention to a ten-year-old that he did this or that remarkably well for a kid his age, the reaction would be the same. But what would happen if you were to make such a comment to a PMS – “You serve really hard for a woman,” hmm? We all know what the reaction would be. But why? The answer is that older folks and children haven’t been instilled with the idea that they must forever and always war against, respectively, those enjoying the flower of youth and adults – their egos with regard to this haven’t taken on the proportions of the national debt. But the PMS has such a large chip on her shoulder that if it’s true that pride goeth before the fall, then all of western femaledom stands on the precipice.
If the feminist-grown PMS ego only came into play when debating trivial subjects like sports ability, it would be a matter of little import. But tragically, pride does goeth before the fall and the PMS ego affects many areas of life. Marriage, for instance, is supposed to involve a complementary relationship between spouses, one in which each member is a different half of the whole and both work together as interlocking pieces toward a common goal. But the PMS’s compulsion to flex her ego and engage in one-upmanship with her husband changes the model from a complementary one to a competitive one. In fact, they say that every great man has a good woman behind him, so it occurs to me that maybe we have fewer great men nowadays because we have so many women who don’t want to stand behind their husbands, but on top of them.
Now, I’ll conclude with a message for you young bucks out there. I remember the episode of the old show Leave it to Beaver in which Ward Cleaver comforts a crying paper-girl with the line, “I know this is a tough job for a girl.” The girl took no offense at the remark and it was understood that it was meant to be compassionate. I’m telling you this because you’ve been raised in the age of the PMS, so you may not even know that the majority of women weren’t always afflicted with her mental disorder. To you, this is probably just the way gals are. But I can assure you that in this instance the old show was truly a case of art imitating life – in the not too distant past virtually all women were like that paper-girl. But a few still exist and if you use the technique I outlined in the first paragraph and you’re blessed, you just may find one. And one last word of advice: if the woman your with fails the test, she’s a PMS, and then your course of action should be clear. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back – run like the wind, young man. And don’t worry, she probably won’t be able to catch you. Guys are faster, you know . . .
