Another blog so soon? I know, I've pretty much fallen into the groove of being a one-blog-a-month kind of guy, so one this soon is a little out of character.
But I got all inspired about something today and just had to let you in on it.
It all started with today being my friend Verlyn's 52nd birthday. So, out of the goodness of my heart I felt I should wish him well and encourage him as best I could, seeing that it's all downhill from here.
So we had a really nice exchange and I got to thinking some more. About how we men catch it from the ladies about how we don't have meaningful and in-depth conversations, like, of course, they do.
Well, obviously they haven't listened in on a conversation between Verlyn and I. The one today was full of heartfelt caring, honesty and in-depth discussion. Life and death was actually one of the main topics at hand.
And when I say conversation, I don't mean actual talking, but texting. Texting is a great method of communication. You can say something very short that you would never call someone up to tell them and then hang up. It also gives you time to think of the perfect response back where you couldn't (at least I couldn't) think that fast on the phone.
So anyway, I thought I would let you listen in to our communication today to prove my point that ladies don't have a monopoly on good and in-depth sharing. I thought about getting Verlyn's permission, but then I thought, nah, if he doesn't like it I'm sure he'll get over it. That's another thing men have going for them, they get over things. I think it's because they can only think of one thing at a time so as soon as they have to start thinking about the next thing, the former thing vanishes in thin air.
Okay, let's get started.....................
Me: Hey Birthday Boy. I had thought about sending you flowers since I wasn't sure if I would make it to your funeral. You know, I might be fishing or something important.
Verlyn: Well, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to send me this text that was far beyond what I expected or even imagined. But you might want to reconsider coming to my funeral because you could be one of the lucky six. I'm giving my wife money to pay the pallbearers. I figured it would be cheaper and easier to hire six after I'm dead than it would be to make six friends and try to keep them while I'm living.
Me: Hey, you're a pretty good sized guy. I'd save up enough money to hire eight if I were you.
Verlyn: All the prospects that even seem interested (that Ruth is working with) were raised with me and are rough and burly and she said that four of them could do it. So you wouldn't even be considered anyway. I was just trying to be a friend and help you out, but she is looking for a deal, not a big showy thing.
Me: How about I come supervise for only half again as much as you're paying each of the four actual workers? I could tell them when to cry, etc.
Verlyn: You might be good, but trying to get one of them to cry at my funeral, good luck. They don't even cry when there is something to cry about.
Me: I was afraid of that; them not bein' cultured enough. You think some well timed tear gas might do the trick?
Verlyn: They use that for happy hour just for something to do.
Me: Sounds like a scary bunch. I might be too scared to come at all. Maybe I'll just send a card.
Verlyn: You are a better steward than that, man! Don't waste your money.
Me: You're right. How about in the case of your demise I just send Ruth a text with my condolances and wish her better luck the next go-round. But in the meantime, enjoy that birthday!
There you have it. I hope I encouraged him on his birthday. I know it sure cheered me up to have a good manly, heartfelt, honest and in-depth conversation.
If this is what the women are having on a regular basis, I'll have to admit, they're really on to something!