Straight Talk, No Chaser: How to Find, Keep, and Understand a Man

be extremely unfair of me to act as if she somehow contributes to less of our financial stability because she isn’t bringing home a check.

We’re in the twenty-first century, and even women who aren’t working have power in their relationship. A man can’t put a price tag on what it means to return to a peaceful home, night after night, a place that’s clean and full of food, a place with lights and electricity because the bills have been paid on time, a place where the kids are attending school and doing well. That’s priceless. It allows us to flip into man mode and do what we have to do to make sure you and our family are well cared for.

If, however, your man is taking you for granted and isn’t recognizing the value you bring to the relationship, I have some news for you: you can make him recognize it. This is what happened to a friend of mine when he made the mistake of taking his wife for granted. Every day, he would walk through the gate to a yard and house that was in order; nothing was out of place, the kitchen was always clean, the beds were always made, the kids were always fed, clothed, and clean. But he never said “Thank you for what you do” to his wife; he just acted as if this was par for the course.

One day, he came home and got deep into a conversation on the phone with one of his friends. His wife overheard him telling his friend, “Oh, she’s great-living the life. She doesn’t do anything; she’s got her feet up on the sofa, watching soap operas. She doesn’t do anything all day long. I tell you, she’s got the life.”

What did he say that for? The next day he came home and walked through the gate and the yard was all messed up; toys were strewn everywhere, bikes were lying in the grass, and sippy cups were out on the steps. He walked into a house where the sink was full of dishes and crayons were spread out across the carpet and tables. The kids were running around like banshees, and there was no dinner on the stove. The first thing out of his mouth was, “What have you been doing all day?”

“I didn’t do a single thing today,” she said simply, “just like you told your friend.” And then she turned back to the television.

This went on for two weeks, with him coming home to a wreck of a house, no dinner, and kids running all over the place. Let’s just say it didn’t take him long to finally figure out what his wife really does throughout the day, and the value of it. She made it look so simple and easy, but really, her job was just as stressful, just as challenging, and just as valuable as his-albeit in a different way. And when they finally sat down to talk about it, she made clear her value: “What I do may not pay bills, but let me tell you what it does do: it gives you peace, good food, a clean house, well-behaved children, and a place to sit your coffee down and read your newspaper without interruption. If you don’t want that, I can stop doing my job altogether. I don’t mind watching these kids tear up this house.”

This is all to say that sometimes you have to get a man’s attention to make him recognize your worth. Maybe going about it the way my friend’s wife did is a bit extreme, but there are ways to help him attach value to what you bring to the relationship. One of the easiest ways to make that happen is to write down your “to-do” list with checks next to all the things you’ve done during the course of the day, and then leave it somewhere where he can see it-on the kitchen table, in the bathroom next to his toothbrush, on his nightstand, next to the remote. This will be a nice subtle way of reminding him to respect your game.

If that doesn’t get his attention, invite him to a sit-down and politely remind him of your value. Ask him if he saw your list, and if he thinks you’re doing a good job. If he’s not a fool, he will wake up and say, “Wow, yeah, what you do around the house is priceless.” Tell him, “You know, I just want to thank you for what you do for this family; we make a fantastic team, right?” I assure you that he will turn around and thank you for a job well done too.

Sometimes you just have to get a man’s attention-pull his coattails a little. We don’t mean any harm, I promise you.

I know plenty of you are reading this with your finger in the back of your throat, trying to make yourselves gag over what I’m telling women they need to do to make a man comfortable in a challenging financial relationship. But I feel the need to remind you: you have a certain set of skills that we do not possess, and you only serve yourself and your relationship with men better when you call on those skills and put them to use. Use your nurturing and communications skills-if you can use that skill set to get what you need and want out of others, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t put them to use with the person you love most, your mate. With good planning and a bit of luck, he’ll eventually be back up on his feet and out of the fog-ego in check and grateful you hung in there and helped him through the storm. The two of you will be stronger and better for it.

12

The Art of the Deal

How to Get What You Want Out of a Man

My mother and father were married for sixty-four years.

There is a simple explanation for the longevity of their marriage.

My dad, Slick Harvey, recognized that he was not in charge and acted accordingly. This kept a smile on my mother’s face, my father reasonably happy, and the marriage intact. Dad instinctively knew that in order to do what he wanted to do, he’d have to give my mother room to do what she wanted to do, say what she wanted to say, go where she wanted to go, and be who she wanted to be. He did this by practicing, subtly and masterfully, the art of negotiation-the art of the deal.

Take the time my mom announced she wanted to go pick up groceries at Southland Shopping Center, the new outlet of stores across town. She’d read about the opening in the paper and had just finished studying the grocery store circular when she decided she just had to have a carton of the Eagle brand eggs they were selling for thirty- nine cents per dozen at that particular chain. She didn’t have to say it but one time, and my father was pulling on his shoes, coat, and hat and grabbing his keys. Her faithful chauffeur, he would drive her to church on Monday, Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday, as well as take her to the hairdresser when she needed to get her hair done and downtown when she saw a dress she wanted to buy or needed to get us kids some clothes for school. And now, my mother was adding the Southland Shopping Center to her list of shopping haunts.

What my brother and I didn’t understand, at the tender ages of nineteen and eight, respectively, was why in the world my father wasn’t asking what seemed the most obvious of questions: Why would anybody want to drive all the way across town to buy a dozen eggs at thirty-nine cents a dozen when the grocery store right up the street was selling the same carton of Eagle brand eggs for only twenty cents more? It just didn’t make sense to us, though it was my brother who made the very foolish mistake of expressing his thoughts on the subject.

“I want to go to Southland because they have the eggs I want,” my mother responded.

“But that’s a good fifteen minutes out of the way, and you can get eggs for a reasonable price right down the street,” he argued, with me behind him, nodding my head in agreement.

“I don’t want those eggs down the street-I want the eggs over there at Southland,” she insisted, pulling on her coat and walking toward the door. She was ready to go, and clearly was in no mood for arguing.

Now huffing in disbelief, he looked at my father and kept applying the pressure. “Wait, so let me get this straight: you’re going to burn up all that gas running her across town? And spend two hours messing around in that store when you can get the same food down the street for a little bit more money? What kind of sense does that make?”

Finally, my father cut him off. “You through?” he asked, slowly.

My brother quickly shut his mouth and opened his ears.

“I could run her down to the store and let her get the fifty-nine-cent eggs, but that ain’t what your mama wants. She wants to go over there to Southland, and so I’m going to take her to Southland. And if you don’t shut the hell up, you’re going to take her instead of me.”

My father waited for my mother to get herself out the door and settled in the car before he continued. “You don’t know nothing about women,” he said, the bass in his voice taking over. “This isn’t about logic, boy. It’s what your mama wants. What will it hurt me to give her what she wants? I’m trying to go down there to the gas station and play pinochle, so if I want to do that, I’m going to run your mother around all day today, take her everywhere she wants to go so I can go where I want to go tonight.”

The art of the deal.