Dear men of the world, my heart goes out to you, it really does, because other than each other, you’re forced to spend time with us women. This is not without its fantastic perks, which are too numerous to mention (and I’m sure you’ve all gone straight for the obvious, what with you all being grubby, filthy little boys – that girls are cleaner and smell nicer than boys. Why? What did you think I was implying?). The trouble is, in order to reap the benefits of spending time with the wondrous marvel that is woman, man must suffer the fact that her very existence is fuelled by a complex and violent stream of volatile hormones, whether pubescent, premenstrual or pregnant (so basically, forever). Well, you lucky chaps have landed on your feet here because I am about to bestow upon you the ultimate hormonal woman survival guide. You’re welcome.
Pearl of Wisdom Number 1
Never, and I cannot stress this enough, NEVER point out to a woman that she is being hormonal if you value your testicles at all. I know, this defies everything that is logical and reasonable but I don’t think you quite realise what you’re dealing with here if you still think logic and reason come into play in any shape or form. When the woman is NOT filled to the brim with hormonal rage, she will be able to calmly agree with you that yes, perhaps ripping the windows from their frames may have been a mild overreaction to the curtains not hanging straight BUT when you’re standing there, taking a full-force gale of tear-stained verbal abuse that would melt the face off a statue, the very last thing you want to do is ask her if it’s “that time of the month, dear?”.
To the man, this is a helpful thing to suggest as it would seem to highlight to all parties that the situation isn’t really as dire as Madame Meltdown has made out, and that foul play may be afoot in the form of biology, but what the woman has instead heard is that he thinks she is silly and wrong and trivial. He may as well have tossed a lit match into a bucket of petrol soaked exploding scorpions! TAKE COVER!
Pearl of Wisdom Number Two
You are wrong. It doesn’t matter what this is regarding and how ridiculous the opposing argument is – You. Are. Wrong. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can stop wearing protective sporting equipment around your crown jewels. She has a wardrobe, hinge-bendingly stuffed full of clothing and the spare bedroom filled with yet more, while you are reduced to storing all your personal possessions in one half of the sock drawer, and yet after a full hour of wailing and a fashion parade that would shame London Fashion Week, while throwing herself on the floor to sob uncontrollably into a pile of 72 pairs of jeans, she delivers the classic line “I have nothing to wear”. You know she does but what have we just learned? You. Are. Wrong. There, that just saved you a 3 hour argument and you get to keep twig and berries.
Your being wrong also serves to form a beautiful game that you will never win at. You offer her a back rub/hot bath/candlelit dinner, you’re wrong. You don’t offer her a back rub/hot bath/candlelit dinner, you’re wrong. Do you see how this works? No, actually you don’t because You. Are. Wrong.
There is, however, one huge exception to this golden rule. When you hear the bloated, tear streaked, greasy haired, sweat stained love of your life declare “I’m HIDEOUS!”, now, now is your chance to argue back and fire compliments at her (no matter how heavy her counter rebuttals and no matter how right she might actually be) with as much enthusiasm as a cocaine fuelled trader on the stock exchange floor.
Pearl of Wisdom Number Three
Sorry lads, you may think the Tit Fairy is your friend but really, she’s a spiteful little witch. Yes, she brings larger, bouncier sweater-fillers for your lovely ladyfriend, and don’t they look swell (pun intended) but here’s the sting in the Tit Fairy tale – you can’t touch. That’s right, it’s like you’re a child in the sweet factory but touching the chocolate will earn you a poked eye because the chocolate is sore. Yes, I know chocolate doesn’t actually get sore and there could have been a better analogy. Whatever! The point is, you just can’t touch, ok?!
Pearl of Wisdom Number Four
Speaking of chocolate, it is highly advisable to keep a stash of the brown stuff close to hand at all times. In much the same way that trapped hikers throw food at a bear to placate it while they make good their escape, a bag of sweet treats can be used to distract the fuming hormonal woman. If you see shopping-related tears on the horizon, if you smell danger in the air from having inadvertently left a solitary toast crumb in the butter, if you think for just one moment that a stiletto may be taking aim at your baby making equipment *BAM* pull out that bag of velvety sugary goodness, sit back and enjoy the 10 minutes peace while she feasts on it like a ravenous hyena going at a zebra spleen.
In case you chaps are wondering “why chocolate when she’s normally always on a diet?”, it’s actually a scientific fact that hormonal women need a greater calorie intake than at normal times. This is because of all the energy it takes to have 15 tantrums in a single day.
Pearl of Wisdom Number Five
This is the most wise of all the pearls I have to offer you. When you’ve tried offering foot rubs and expensive shiny trinkets, have cooked 17 different dinner options on the off chance one of them will be good enough and admitted to being responsible for all the world’s wrongs (including Simon Cowell’s trousers), you have one last option available to you. SHUT UP AND RUN!
Dear men of the world, women are absolutely, positively, undeniably madder than a cuboid receptacle of hoppy amphibians and there is generally only a 5 minute window in any one year when we aren’t hormonal hurricanes, but you love us anyway, you damned silly fools, you really do. For that I thank you and also for that I offer you my endless pity. Now, go get me some chocolate. Why are you getting me chocolate? You’re trying to make me fat!