A month has passed since Lindsey and I were married. It's been the time of our lives so far. There has been great fun, yet many tough times, too, as we adjust to a different way of life. I've learned a lot as we've moved into a house, dealt with jobs, signed contracts, and bought big things. The first is that a generalization has been proven in the fifty-seven boxes and bags Lindsey brought from Virginia with her.

1. Women have lots of things.

When I say things, I mean crap. I've tried to be nice about it, but most of it is just that. In going through her endless stuff, we've found ten beverage warmers. I'm no warm beverage expert, but I don't think even Santa Claus had that many. Right now they're all lined up on the mantle as a reminder to visitors that cups are important, easy storage can be a curse, and consumerism is all pink, warm, and healthy. After the cups were arranged on a table I had a fun time pretending to be Indiana Jones from the climatic scene of 'Last Crusade.' Yeah, I'm adorable with youth. Anyway, after I gave up finding anything resembling a whip, I stumbled over a box of shoes, stood up, and promptly fell into another. If Lindsey ran out of table tops when using those cups in college, she surely had no trouble decorating the rest of the dorm room with high heels, sneakers, and flip flops. After playing a virtual game of Tetris with the room, I gathered four boxes of shoes. These weren't little boxes. The smallest measured about 2'x2'x1'. But the volume isn't even the most disturbing thing. What caught my surprise is the fact that some of them are almost EXACTLY THE SAME. I counted six pairs of very similar brown shoes. Into the mix I brought three pairs of sneakers, two pairs of dress shoes, a pair of sandals, and flip flops. According to my calculator—and it's a good calculator—with the amount of shoes I own, I could only supply the feet needs of 1/7 of a girl.

2. Girls like girly things.

Here I am trying to compose a nice, modern, hip, intelligently arranged home when all sorts of fancy glassware, smelly candles, and cute kitchen novelties get in the way. I was assembling an entertainment center for the living room, and when I finished Lindsey handed me a pair of glass candle holders and said, "Put these in the bottom shelf." I know, I can't believe it either. I said, "That's where the Nintendo is going." Apparently, when you get married, even if you pay for something with your own money, and go to the store and buy it, and put it together, the other person still has a say in how it's used. I'm going to find a way to get rid of those glasses. "Oops! My fishing rod fell into the entertainment center."

3. Girls do not like gory movies.

All I was trying to do was watch Dawn of the Dead (you know, the new one that came out in early 2004—it's great; you should watch it). Five minutes into the movie a little girl zombie breaks into a house and rips out the throat of a lady's husband and proceeds to chase said lady around her bedroom. Nothing major, right? Lindsey freaks out and now she can't be alone in the house for the night, turning on every light and asking me to check behind the shower curtain. She's also now protesting scary movies, but I'll be darned if I give up Alien and Rosemary's Baby (or The Garbage Pail Kids Movie for that matter).

4. Nor do girls like violent video games.

I was playing Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas on my PlayStation 2 as Lindsey watched from the couch. After about five minutes she said, "Is there a point to this game?"

"Yes, but I'm just playing around, now." I was driving a fire truck through a crowd of beach-goers while helicopters and police cars assaulted me with their bumpers and bullets. Another couple of minutes passed before Lindsey spoke again. By then I was on a busy road, ramming my sports car into motorcycles.

"Why don't you like to just drive normally? Stay on your side and avoid smashing things and running over people?"

"That's the whole point," I said. "I can do that any time, but I can't go around like this in reality. It's fun to just cause havoc in this game. That's part of the appeal—I can break all rules of society with no consequence."

"I don't like to break rules."

5. They really do spend that much time in the bathroom.

I see the inside of a bathroom for probably twenty-five minutes of each day, including my shower, shave, and waste relief. However, when Lindsey goes into the bathroom to get ready in the mornings, I might as well go build a model plane. One time I was so bored for so long that I painted a side of the house. Eventually I made a game of it. I see how much of the house I can paint before she's done, and then next time try to break that record.

6. My wife thinks that I can fix anything simply because I'm a man.

I was an intellectual kid. I watched Sesame Street, read, made up imaginary worlds, and looked at squashed bugs in my microscope. I never learned how to build engines, weave shingles into a roof, or lay concrete. Still, Lindsey expects me to fix four-hundred-pound appliances with all the ease of looking at a butterfly. Apparently, working with electrical wiring is not very much different than plucking blades of grass, either.

7. Fishing always involves a headache, wet pants, and/or spilled tackle boxes.

Lindsey tries, I will give her credit. But there are lots of problems. For starters, if we're using live bait, I have to put it on the hook. I have to assure her that the worm doesn't feel anything and actually enjoys being torn into four or five pieces. When she catches a fish, I have to convince her that, just like worms, fish don't feel pain and like to have their mouths and eyes pierced. I think she finally saw through this pretense when she hooked a snapping turtle. I finally got the hook out of his mouth, and, since I'd had little fun until this point, I threw the turtle like a baseball—far, far out into the middle of the lake. By this point Lindsey had had enough emotional stress and finally released it with a lot of tears. "He's dead!" she moaned as he hit the water. In truth I reassured her that he wasn't dead, or even hurt, and that I wouldn't have done that if there was a chance he would've been. (The turtle is fine. He was there the next day.)

So, fishing with the wife is like fishing as two people because I do everything for both of us. Lindsey's mom is going to be disappointed when reading this (she's a good fisherman, for a girl). I have confidence, though, because she is learning. She asks lots of questions such as, "Which end of the stick do I hold?", "How many bobbers do I put on the string?", "I wonder what size rock I'm stuck on?", and my favorite, "Do you have any ChapStick in your tackle box thing?"

8. Super Soaker fights are not to be initiated indoors.

9. Whether traveling on interstates or winding through country roads, it is not OK to do so like a race car driver.

Again, I need to give Lindsey credit here. She can go pretty fast herself (about 15mph over the limit), but gets a little scared when I do (30mph or more over the limit). I try to convince her that I know how to drive, that people will get out of my way if I cross into their lane, especially if I have my lights on. She just doesn't understand how the road works.

10. It's not a good idea to take dozens of pictures of her just after waking. Especially not with the flash. And especially not before she's awake.

I've learned this the hard way, at least twice. Oh, and never, ever even go into the bathroom with a camera in your hand if she's on the toilet. No.

Now for the good news. I've made fun of Lindsey throughout this post, but to be truthful, she's very down to earth and understanding. For example, it's OK if I give her a gift wrapped in aluminum foil, and she doesn't get all that mad if I clean fish in the living room. She may be girly in a lot of ways, and that may limit the extremity of my male immaturity, but it's a good thing. I don't want She-Hulk asking for my comb to get wood shavings from her armpits. I like my cute, sweet Lindsey who's afraid to put worms on hooks and can't stand the sight of ugly feet. I love my little wimp.

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