There's a well-known fact amongst our circle of friends: Without the benefit of their wives, our husbands couldn't plan their way out of a paper bag.
Therefore, whenever one tries to schedule a "boys' night out," there's invariably a wife (or three) working hard behind the scenes: calling other wives, making lists, coming up with suggestions, smoothing out all the barriers to said night. (Surely this is the way of wifedom, right?) For our group, "boys' night out" is usually a camping trip. It's one night, without wives or children, in a camper at the local lake. They pick a day ... and then the wives take over.
We make the reservations, communicate about who's bringing what, buy all the fixins for a camp lunch and a grilled-to-perfection dinner, stock the camper with sunscreen and bug spray, and make sure everyone has at least two clean towels and enough freshly laundered sheets and blankets.
It's a process that the men don't even notice. You'd think there was a camping fairy who waved her magic wand and created ideal conditions for them. No fairies. Just wives.
But sometimes the husbands get tired of hearing the wives joke at their expense -- which is the only way the wives know to deal with zero acknowledgement or appreciation. So the wives poke and laugh and blow out their breath. And the husbands roll their eyes and ... well, that's about it. But their exasperation is known.
And so, my individual husband asked me not so politely to butt out. He had this crazy idea that he didn't need my planning or communication skills. I heard his message loud and clear and have left the whole process to him.
That's why he's going man camping this weekend ... maybe. He's not exactly sure what's happening because he's had to communicate and plan all by himself. In fact, he thought the other husband had backed out and was planning to go with the kids instead. Why? Because of this conversation-via-text:
The other husband: Wanna go Friday or Saturday?
My husband: Not sure yet.
My husband: Thinking Friday too.
The other husband: Suppose to rain. Might want to do it another weekend.
My husband: Yep.
And that was the entire conversation. Yep. And off both these husbands went on their ways.
The other husband's interpretation: Saturday night only. My husband's interpretation: Friday night without his buddy, so take the kids instead.
Guess where my husband found out about the differing interpretation? Facebook. Last night. Days after the kids began dancing around and making elaborate lists of what they'll do with their one night and half day of camping with dad. Lists that require you check off each action as you do it.
I have no idea what the new plan is. I'm guessing with two men scheduling it, they aren't quite sure what the new plan is either. What I am sure of is that text conversation (if you can call it that) is exactly the reason I still do all the vacation planning, school communicating, and friendly gathering scheduling.
Only a husband.