Still Struggling with the 20th Century

Dear Miss Vito,

So, I awoke in the hospital with very little memory of recent events.

I had just invested close to $10,000 in my truck. Of course, the dog thinks it's his truck. But the insurance I collected was Blue Book on a 1994 vehicle.

They kept me in the hospital a couple of days and when I got 'home' I was still in a daze. A recent acquaintance came to visit and I still don't remember having met him.

Then it hit me all at once that everything in my life was turned upside down. My truck is gone, my wife and daughters have invaded my refuge in the mountains, I am in debt up to my eyeballs again with an enormous, conspicuous house that is empty most of the time. It's embarassing. I love my wife but she looks like a stranger. She's on me to make a home out of this house. All I want is to move back into the hills with the dog.

Have I gone crazy with that bump on the head? I don't think my wife is out to get me. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. While I was flying Vietnam out of Guam she was living in Hawaii. Did she get spoiled and I not know about it?

Signed: Clifford in Wyoming

Miss Vito replies:

Clifford, how long did you say you were unconscious?

Let me get this straight. You're telling me you had this gorgeous refuge in the mountains that was all yours until your wife moved in and persuaded you to build a house with room for your daughters and their families, but the place is so remote they almost never show up. Then you got a crack on the head and everything seems different.

I'm reminded of the Right Stuff when Gus Grissom's wife realizes she's not going to the White House to chit-chat with Jacqueline Kennedy. She's convinced the Air Force owes her for all the time she suffered as a serviceman's wife.

Clifford, you may love this woman, but you have been railroaded into something you didn't want, led to believe it would be good for everybody. We should probably give your wife the benefit of the doubt and say her optimism overcame whatever common sense she might possess, rather than suggest she did this to get even.

I see this all the time. The twentieth-century woman is still struggling with the nineteenth century and is just not ready for the twenty-first. Call it hung-up, tangled-up or what-have-you, but most of us live in the past. I'm not saying men have enlightenment all to themselves because there's precious little of that going around, but the women still believe that they would be better off if they were more like the men. Equal pay for equal work. Except men don't carry babies and give birth, so what's to be equal?

Not that I'm letting the men off the hook, because we all want what somebody else has. That's only natural. To really believe it's important and to devote energy and time to finding happiness in one's possessions is just foolish.

And women are complete fools in this regard. Worse, they cannot be trusted. They will go out and buy a pair of white slacks that don't fit because 'everyone' is wearing them. If she asks you if they make her look fat, you better be quick with a good lie. Women are not rational. Their fluctuating chemical balance drives their entire reality. Ask a woman a question and the only thing you might learn is how she feels at the moment. I can assure you she will feel different tomorrow and different again the day after. If you refuse to give in to her whims she will cry and accuse you of being heartless and cruel. Don't fall for it!

But it looks like you fell for it and it took a near death experience to wake you up. I hope your recovery goes well. It may take some time to completely regain your equilibrium. I can understand your distress.

You have a couple of choices. You can endure this meaningless reality that has been foisted upon you. This will ensure your premature death. Women are good at convincing themselves that their men will get over it. But take a look at some of these guys and they look like they're dead already. Worse, they look like they have been beaten up. Guess what?

The only real choice is what I would call divorce, guerilla-style. Without saying anything to your wife, convert all your assets to cash and put the money somewhere no one can find it. Then you quitclaim your interest in the house (and the mortgage!) to your wife. Take the dog and back into the mountains, call the bank and say 'Kemo Sabe, I bought a boat, I'm headed out to sea!'

I just love Lyle Lovett, he is so clever with words.