How Men Survive an Estrogen-laced World

The air conditioner repairmen were here last Saturday. And the older gentleman, who was in his early seventies said from the photos on the wall I can see that you have 3 daughters. And he went on to tell my husband and I that his grandfather had 3 daughters too. And when the repairman asked his grandfather what it was like to live with all those women his grandfather said Huh? And the repairman said again Grandpa what was it like living with 3 daughters and a wife? And his grandfather said I can’t hear you. The only way his grandfather could survive living in a house full of women was to shut down his hearing. Survival depended on simply not letting the estrogen laced conversation penetrate the labyrinth of his inner ear. Survival required retreat.

For 25 years but for weekend nights when it was not tax season, my three daughters and I ate dinner together. My husband was always working. And dinner conversations were built around our common interests—school, pop culture and all things feminine. We could speak for 45 minutes at a time about animal prints and the Victoria’s Secret semi-annual sale. And because my husband was rarely at dinner with us, when he did make a guest appearance, he was overpowered. We were in an unbreakable rhythm of feminine litany. The testosterone was too dilute for the pool of discourse. And my husband had no choice but to nod off and retreat into his own thoughts. And we accepted his retreat and expected his silence.

A few weeks ago my daughter Samantha, who lives in Manhattan, came home for a visit. She brought her boyfriend Alex with her. And my husband, Sam, Alex, Briana and I all went to the club for dinner. And while there, my husband became a totally different guy.

My husband and Alex talked about golf and golf courses and fescue and unplayable lies. They jabbered over man-nirvana—the men’s member guest: steaks , single malt scotch, chip off contests and raffle prizes. The testosterone was overflowing. And in between dinner courses my husband left the table with Alex to show him where the chip off contest was held. The three of us sat there in a daze—and Sam and Briana inquired What’s up with Dad? I’ve never seen him like this before. Why is he talking so much? And I had to remind Briana and Sam that the reason they think their father doesn’t talk is because he is never included in the conversation. There is nothing he can add when women debate statement necklaces versus statement earrings.

The air conditioner repairman told us how at a family gathering, when his grandfather was well into his eighties and walked with a cane, the men decided to leave for a bit and walk down to the local bar while the women cleaned up and chatted amongst themselves. The men thought that Grandpa was too old to come with them. They thought it was best that he be left to stay with the women. But grandpa was having none of it. Opportunity knocked rarely and he was not going to miss out. He was going to have that beer and watch baseball with a bunch of guys. He wasn’t dead yet.

And someday when my husband has son-in-laws his voice will return. And together he and his son-in-laws will appreciate why it’s not a big deal in man-world to wear wool tweed sports jackets in May or linen dress pants in October. They will commiserate over being made to visit the Costume I nstitute at the Met. And they will bond over their lack of interest in china patterns and the color of Kitchen Aid food processors. Together they will discuss why a T-bone steak is better than a hummus platter. And they will spend 45 minutes reliving the sand shot out of the bunker at #17 to get the birdie.

And my daughters and I will not allow the testosterone laced conversation to penetrate the labyrinth of our inner ears. And we will retreat. But only temporarily.  We are women after all. We will retreat only long enough to refortify. And we will say How about those Yankees? And once everyone is deeply engaged we will flip into Isn’t Jeter is so hot? And the estrogen will once again regain its stronghold.