Page 100 of Burn Bag

The man scoffed, shaking his head. I took that to mean that my husband was an idiot. Which, right now, I was pretty sure he was.

“Like I said, I’ll get what I want, and you can get what you want.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” I snapped, turning to walk away. “Stupid man, trying to tell me what brands to get and what I’ll want. This is by far the stupidest argument I’ve ever had!”

24

KAVANAUGH

“Son,do you plan on being married for long?” the man who stood just a few feet from me asked.

“What?”

“Because right now, you’re headed for d-i-v-o-r-c-e. Take it from a man who’s been there.”

“Listen, I think I can handle a little grocery shopping on my own.”

“Is that right?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. “How long have you been married?”

“A week,” I muttered, snarling at the grin forming on his lips.

He barked out a laugh, pressing the heel of his hand to his watering eyes. “Christ, son. A week and you’re already having a blowup in the grocery store?”

“There are special circumstances,” I argued.

“I don’t care what those circumstances are. There are only two ways to answer when you’re talking to your wife. One will keep you on her good side, and the other will put you on the fast track for a divorce.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. “You pander to your wife?”

“I would now if I was still married. Divorced twice. And it ain’t no picnic.”

“If you’re divorced twice, how do I know anything you say will help?”

“Trust me,” he chuckled. “You’ll see immediate results. You know, my old man always told me you can either be right or you can be happy. It’s your choice.”

Either be right or happy. I rolled that around in my head and frowned. “That means there’s no winning.”

“Ding, ding, ding! The man has a brain!” He clapped slowly, mocking me with his smirk. “Do you think they don’t do the same for us?”

“Pander?”

“Exactly. How many times have you heard a woman praise her man?”

I thought about what I had heard around the guys and their wives. The women always gushed over how amazing their husbands were. “I guess they do it a lot, but?—”

“But nothing. They’re not doing it because they think their husbands are amazing. They’re doing it because men need praise. If they want anything done around the house, they have to give praise.Oh, you’re so amazing. I couldn’t have done that without you.Sound familiar?”

Daphne hadn’t done that yet, but I’d heard similar from the other wives.

“That’s because every time a woman praises her man, his chest expands exponentially and he feels like Superman. Makes him want to do better. Works the same in the bedroom,” he winked.

I almost cringed at the last part, but focused instead on the important things. “Wait, so you’re saying that women basically pat us on the heads like dogs to get their way?”

“More or less. And we lap that shit up,” he laughed. “My wife had me running in circles for her. Every time I did a project outside, she gushed over how good a job I did. And it works in other ways as well.”

Now I was really fucking curious. “What ways?”

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