The Times Magazine 9shoulders, naturally) man exercises. And yes!
Of course! He now has a back injury.
His encouraging us to exercise. Don’t need
that, thanks very much. Might as well say,
“We’ve got a bit chubby, haven’t we?” And
don’t give us the “You’ll feel so much better
for a bit of fresh air” line either. Not listening,
and furthermore getting Annoyed.
His not hearing the doorbell. Come on.
His refusing to talk outside specified times.
WFH has magnified this problem. Basically
we are living under library rules and unless
you are in the kitchen (provided no cooking is
taking place, which requires the concentration
of a bomb-disposal expert) there must be quiet
at all times. Or at least no chatting.
His having an opinion about things he
never showed any interest in previously.
You name it: keeping the smaller cups on the
lower shelf; keeping certain boxes; our choice
of lockdown footwear (problem with clogs
now); how to store the Magimix.
His refusing to have an opinion about
important things. Eg when you ask: “Do you
think this is going to end in March, or May...
or go on to the summer?” he will say, “May...”
and if you then challenge that, “...or March...
I have no idea. June?” That sort of thing. Also
known as a conversation shutter-downer (see
refusing to talk outside specified times).Flashpoints (for men)
Her (too many) rules. Lockdown 3 has,
admittedly, got a lot more ruley: less drink,
fewer carbs, less waste, fewer Amazon
deliveries, earlier bed (why not!). Every day
we women think of another really good rule- soup for lunch! – and they refuse to comply
because there are now too many rules for
them to remember.
Her correctly anticipating imminent screw-
ups. You’re about to burn the garlic/burn
yourself/snap the key in the lock/scratch the
side of the car/drop the iPad in the loo etc.
Always right. Doesn’t help.
Her insisting on cutting his hair. Why not?
You couldn’t do a worse job than the bloke on
the corner. If you used the potato peeler and
your teeth, you’d do a better job.
Her talking to the plumber. Now that men
are WFH and in the house when the plumber
calls, they wish to “handle” the plumber
themselves. (Even though all the evidence is
they can’t listen to what the plumber is saying - too busy arranging legs and arms in a
macho pose and nodding sternly.) Hopeless.
Her messiness. Along with the new interest
in shelf-organising, lockdown 3 has activated
a hitherto dormant urge for order and
suddenly the chair of shame in the bedroom
(some clothes on it that were last worn in
November) is the chair of, “What’s wrong
with the cupboard?”
Other things to watch out for
Group Zoom calls. (Tip: first step to
improving the relationship is to cut back on
the group Zooms or skip them altogether.)
The trouble with group calls is they’re
performances. It’s all bish-bosh one-liners
designed to amuse and entertain and which
bring out the worst in partners (men). They
like to show off and give away something
embarrassing and personal. When they’re not
doing that, they’re drifting off or forgetting
the names of your friends’ children. (Jabbing
them in the ribs or pinching out of sight of the
camera doesn’t work well because they jump
and then stare at you, which alerts everyone.)
Forty-five minutes of this will frequently end
in a post-Zoom argument. (Why did you have
to tell them that! No! Their son is the one who
didn’t get in, you fool, etc.) Also, you may
question why they are the life and soul on
Zoom calls – funniest person in Britain! So
fun – and then instantly revert to silent mode
once the call is over.
Date-night pressure. Date night is arguably
a slightly creepy idea, unless you are, say, the
Obamas. Still, in lockdown, most of us have
tried to have a night, now and then, when
we... make a bit of an effort. But the thing
about lockdown 3 – unless you’re Kate
Beckinsale – is it’s the world’s most effective
passion-killer. We feel like Julian Assange- imprisoned, smelly, trapped in a Groundhog
Day world, pasty, unattractive and left behind.
(With the important difference that Assange
managed to have sex. Twice.) Date night
in lockdown may well misfire because the
lashings of pinot grigio required to de-Assange
our mood only succeeds in making us gorge
on crisps, and feel cross.
Evidence of other couples having a really
productive lockdown. They’re both in
the garden building a trellis. They’re in a
backgammon tournament with their children.
They’re each learning a musical instrument.
All you two do together is eat and watch TV.
The last thing you talked about at any
length was whether or not, in Cast Away,
Tom Hanks’s partner (Helen Hunt) should
have gone back to him or stuck with Mr Big,
and that did not go well. (Tip: don’t have
a heavy relationship conversation during
lockdown along the lines of, “Would you
take me back if...”)
Evidence of other people being the sort
of people we’d like to be. Eg, the whatsits
who are both volunteering in the vaccination
programme and the whatsit-whatsits who are
running a soup kitchen. These are people like
us but dynamic, with many strings to their
bows and mutual interests and projects and
boundless depths. They probably sit around
in the evenings listening to Miles Davis or
Benjamin Britten, nursing a glass of pinot noir,
reading up on Sutton Hoo.
Who has had Covid. He’s had it. Apparently.
You’re just not quite sure when. Although he
tested positive, back in the middle of last year,
the jury is still very much out as far as we are
concerned, and this is a cause of some friction.Some things not to do for now
Barge in on a Zoom exercise class and find
it comical. Tip: we have totally lost our sense
of humour about these sorts of things. It was
funny in lockdown 1, but now that we are a
stone heavier it’s got serious.
Barge in on a Zoom book club and find
it hilarious.
Barge in on a Zoom work meeting and think
it’s funny to impersonate the stomp-stomp,
sway-sway of the little girl in the original
kids-interrupt-man-on-Zoom incident. Ditto
leaving objects designed to cause offence/
humiliate in back of shot. See point one.Women: some useful things to remember
You could have chosen a better partner for
lockdown, had you known what was coming,
eg someone who could put on a one-person
play for you. But since we’re not planning on
being in lockdown for the rest of our lives, the
one you’ve got is probably still appropriate for
your needs.
You may not be All That yourself. Take a
look at Liz Hurley in lockdown, then take
a look at you.
Let’s face it, this lockdown has coincided
with an “Is this really it?” moment.
We get them every so often, especially in
February. A bad case of, “I could have been
a contender,” with a side order of, “No one
appreciates me,” and a note of The Ballad of
Lucy Jordan: “At the age of 37, she realised
she’d never ride through Paris in a sports car
with the waaarm wind in her haaaair.”SHUTTERSTOCK It’s not all their fault is all we’re saying. n