The Syndrome

It happens to many women on a monthly basis. Men have to suffer through it and whenever possible, will avoid being anywhere near a women when she has it. I’m talking about that monthly monster known as PMS (Premenstrual Syndrome). As a man, I cannot even begin to understand how it feels to have your hormones screwed up for a few days prior to having a period. However, as a man and a husband, I can tell you that I have suffered the receiving end of a woman with PMS. Yes, that lovely, beautiful; easygoing and wonderful companion suddenly morphs into a being you never expected when you first married. “Jeez, what the hell did I do to deserve this bullshit?” many a husband asks, as he slips behind the wheel of the Ford, backs down the driveway and heads over to Jimmy’s – a bar he frequents.

So here’s a situation:

We have “Sam” married to “Ginger”. They have been together for one year. Both are madly in love with each other and the sex – according to Sam – is fantastic. Ginger confides in her friends that Sam is also a performer in bed. Everyone is happy and life is good – until it starts. PMS raises it’s ugly head. Sam arrives home from work – he’s a little late for dinner – but figures that’s OK, because he’s been a little late before and Ginger has understood. He walks in the door, smiling. “Hey honey, I’m home. I got caught up at work, so I’m a few minutes late, sorry.” He’s meet with silence. Ginger sits at the table, munching on a carrot. Sam’s smile doesn’t fade as he walks to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge. He senses something is wrong, but wants to have a nice evening, so he makes light conversation,”How was your day, honey?” he asks, opening the can and taking a long pull.

“Why are you always late? I cook dinner and you come in the door late.”

“Yeah well, like I said, I got caught up at work, anyway it’s only a few minutes, where’s my dinner?”

“You always say that. ‘it’s only a few minutes’. Bullshit!”

“Hey! What’s wrong with you? So I’m a little late, no big deal – my dinner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! What’s wrong with you? Can’t you just get home on time for a fucking change!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. This is bullshit! I’m – what – ten minutes late and you’re having a fat attack? Where is my fucking food?”

“Oh, now the truth is coming out. You think I’m fat, right? Well you wanted to marry me!”

By this time, Sam has decided that no matter what he says, he can’t win. He now knows that it’s PMS, but that still doesn’t make him understand.

“Where is my dinner?” he asks.

“In the oven, you’ll have to reheat it, I’m too fat to walk to the kitchen.”

He rolls his eyes, stands and walks to the kitchen, hits the button on the oven and a few minutes later is carrying the hot dish back to the table. The fighting doesn’t end there, Ginger will find something else to attack Sam about. He will go on the defensive and it won’t matter how many times he says “sorry”, she won’t listen. This is PMS and the monster always wins.

Our husband Sam asks himself this one question every time Ginger has a PMS attack. That question is, “If this syndrome can’t be helped and it’s a shitty time for the woman, why the hell, when we were dating did I never see – or experience – her PMS attacks?” The answer to that question is: that during the dating and courting stage of a relationship, it appears a women can control her PMS while with the boy of her dreams. No doubt her family cops most of the shit when the boyfriend is not around. After marriage, the woman’s family is not in the same house and so the only outlet for her frustrations is her husband. Sam – like 90% of other men – wonders why the wife can’t control her PMS like she did prior to marriage. This, indeed, is the question.

My wife of 12 years decided – on her own – to do some research and see if there was anything out there that could quell the outbreak of the monster. After a few weeks of checking the internet, asking various doctors and discussing with friends, she found that tofu milk was the answer. I was skeptical, but if there was a chance that tofu milk would stop these monthly attacks at me, then drink the stuff until it flows out of your ears – were my words. My wife began drinking the milk, a few glasses per day. I waited – fingers crossed. For a month she drank tofu milk daily. I still waited. I had figured out on the calendar that soon the monster would appear. I was therefore prepared to move to a hotel for a couple of days. Then one morning my wife informs me that her period had started. The monster never arrived, there was no bickering, no name calling, no evenings without dinner, nothing; everything had been normal. The both of us knew it must have been the tofu-milk. So to all the “Sam’s” out there on the planet, get your wife to drink tofu-milk daily as it balances the hormones prior to the period. The taste isn’t bad, similar to standard cow’s milk. Apparently bean-curd possesses the necessary natural ingredients to keep the monster at bay.

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