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Peter Rook: "Is it that time of the month dear?"
I hope that in the last couple of weeks I have helped put to bed the myth of me as a misogynist. In recent columns I have tried to show the readers of this reputable publication a more softer, dare I say, more feminine multi-faceted side to my inherently Neanderthal nature.
I hope that in the last couple of weeks I have helped put to bed the myth of me as a misogynist.
In recent columns I have tried to show the readers of this reputable publication a more softer, dare I say, more feminine multi-faceted side to my inherently Neanderthal nature.I'm still getting stick over my admission that I have candles in the bath (deservedly so, you might add).
I, however, fail to see what the big fuss is all about.
But all my good work in subtly trying to alter people's skewed perceptions of me could be undone today.
This is because I was asked recently what is the single greatest thing about being divorced and living on your own. It's a question I have been asked before and I always give the same answer (and please don't expect any startling revelations here).
It is not having to live with someone who is living through "that time of the month".
I say "that time of the month" because I dare not speak its name since the very mention of the word preceded by "are you on your... " can turn normally sane woman into raging vengeful, vicious, gun-toting psychopaths.
And it does not soften the impact by asking, "Is it that time of the month dear?"
I know – I've tried it.
I do not miss dodging flying crockery because you inquired of the person you're living with that time of the month, "Is it that time of the month dear?"
There is no more checking my diary to work out when her menstrual cycle will strike again.
It's not as if you can celebrate the fact that "that time of the month" comes and passes without warning or incident since the joy at surviving it can be short-lived when she says, "Actually I have not come on yet. And you know that usually I'm as regular as clockwork."
Now that I'm divorced and living alone there are no more blind panics over the fact that she's missed her menstrual cycle by a few days.
There are no more frantic dashes to the late-night chemists for home pregnancy test kits.
Even the overwhelming sense of relief at discovering she's not pregnant can be tainted by heated and frankly pointless discussions about the moral rights and wrongs of abortion.
"How could you expect me to do that? I could not abort a little baby."
"But it does not matter. We have just discovered you're not pregnant."
"That's not the point. What if I was? I just couldn't do it. But you'd want me to terminate a life wouldn't you? Wouldn't you!?"
All this to endure and she hasn't even "come on" yet.
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Saturday 11 February 2012
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