I do what I want!

In a man’s life, there are precious few moments when he is truly free. Our great nation may fight for freedom and democracy, fight to let us bear arms and speak freely, and we might fight to uphold our constitution (Patriot Act aside). But we are rarely free. In all honestly, when our founding fathers declared, “All men are created equal!” they weren’t talking about freedom at all. And they were only talking about men, not women.

Now don’t worry, women—before you rise up in arms against me, let me finish. Women are actually vastly superior to all men, and all men are created equal in our subordination to the women in our lives. Let me explain.

Every man has a mother. The most evil, cold-hearted, rough-and-tumble felons in the world have mothers. And when those felons were children, I guarantee that those mothers dominated those kids. A spoon-wielding, finger-waving, scolding mother will tame any future felon. From birth until age 17 (and usually well into adulthood) your mother has all the power. She can send you to your room. She can tell you to wash up before dinner. She can make you eat all your green beans, or heaven-help-her she will make you regret it.

This continues long past the point when we become physically larger than our mothers. The Mother Mystique is so powerful it will floor her NFL Linebacker son.

But ah, yes…at some point, the son moves out of the house and lives on his own. And then, then, begins the time when he begins to experience freedom. He stays up late! He eats waffles for dinner! He even gets a speeding ticket and can choose to pay it or ignore it as he so chooses! Indeed, in this world where anything can happen, the world is his oyster, and only time will tell if he devours it, hocks the pearl he finds within it, or does whatever his grand schemes lead him to do.

Alas… what’s this? Someone else has arrived. A stronger, more permeating force than either himself or his mother has seeped into his dwelling. This female has the same mystique that his mother had. Sly…convincing…powerful…this force is irresistible. His small window of self-governance has closed.

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“Don’t eat that Enchilada now—you’ll spoil your appetite.”

Her words ring in my ears as I stand in the kitchen, fridge open, saran-wrapped chicken enchilada sitting on the counter. “But I’m hungry!” I whine. “It looks so good!”

“Well, save it. If you eat it now, you won’t be hungry when we go to Travis’s and I make dinner.” Her response was simple, but powerful. And defeating.

I try to argue in my head. “But… it looks so good! I don’t care, I’m an adult! I can eat it if I want to. Who’s gonna stop me? I’m Chris! I’m a man! You can’t tell me what to do. I’ll eat what I want! I’ll be hungry later, too!”
But I’m just grasping at dust in the wind. Of the 6 billion people in the world, there are only 2 who could tell me not to eat that enchilada, and she is one of them. I sigh, and put the plate back in the fridge, muttering to myself about how independent and strong and great I am. The delicious enchilada will have to wait for another day…my wife has spoken, and she speaks wisely.