Nature abhors a vacuum, right?
This is my explanation for the growing problem of gender confusion. I am frequently struck, when confronted by cross-dressing men, at how eagerly they embrace the most beautiful elements of women's traditional attire--the ruffles and laces, etc., that truly set apart a woman's clothing from a man's. These poor, confused fellows seem to know better than most women of today how much these details help a woman represent her charm and delicacy, her dependence, which a man finds such a delightful counterpoint to his leadership role and helps inspire him to love her as Christ loves the Church.
So my dear lady readers, if you desire to establish the Social Reign of Christ the King in the the Masonic Land of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, forego voting at the polls and instead wear beautiful dresses. You will be surprised at the marvelous impact you will have as you do your part to restore the order established by God.
Just the other day I was tugging two trash cans to the road down my long driveway, when one of the roofers who was working on our house rushed to my assistance and valiantly bore my burdens away. I had had absolutely no interaction with this man previously. I simply wore a soft gray skirt and soft rose-colored top with flower embroidery. That did all my communicating for me.
Of course, in some cases, the dress alone is not enough. For instance, last week, when my new countertops were installed, I, wearing a dress and apron, expressed concern that the new granite countertop that was supposed to be deep enough to use as a bar, was significantly less so than I had discussed with the contractor. This caused such a flurry of concerned exchanges among the workers, who so desperately wanted to please me, that within minutes the granite man, Mario, brought me his phone with the contractor on the other end. Fortuitously, the contractor and I had had an occasion the day before to resolve another countertop issue agreeably by my willingness to accept his expert recommendation over my previously decided upon course.
The way it played out was that he had serious reservations about my choice but told me he would do what I wanted.
"You're the boss," he stated, matter-of-factly.
I immediately assured him that I did not want to "be the boss", which somewhat took him aback.
And since he and the granite man both agreed that my plan for dealing with this issue would be unattractive and less usable, I told them that I would happily defer to them, as they were experts and had far more experience in this situation than I.
This news proved quite hard for the contractor to believe; he kept trying to win me over and explain again why I would be unhappy doing it my way.
"You do not have to keep explaining," I assured him. "I accept your recommendation. I trust you and Mario to make the best decision, and I leave it to you and him to work out the details."
Pure shock registered on the poor man's face, as well as on the face of the other workers who had stopped what they were doing to pay attention to this discussion. The shock soon turned to pleasure, however, and I have reaped the benefits ever since. More on that later.
And, he was right. The countertop does indeed look better the way he recommended doing it.
Men long to be respected/trusted. Women who learn this and act accordingly will find that it smoothes the way in many a thorny situation, and many pleasant things may come their way that otherwise would not.
So, when I talked with the contractor about the bar not being the right size, I could hear the grief in his voice that I was not happy. He explained to me why it could not be done the way that we had originally discussed, and while I understood immediately the limitations he described, I could not help wailing,
"But I'm so disappointed!" as indeed, I truly was. I had waited twelve years to address this issue, and now it would not be.
This outburst of emotion on my part apparently completely unglued him, because the next words out of his mouth, uttered with deep distress, were,
He rushed on from there, repeating his lengthy explanation of why the original plan wouldn't work and no doubt trying to cover his awkward slip. I knew immediately that he did not intend to call me "honey". I suspected that he had, unaware, reverted to how he dealt with his wife. It had slipped out in the face of being confronted with The Feminine. He finished his long apology with, "I don't want you to be disappointed!"
Poor man! There was absolutely nothing he could do to fix it, but it grieved his manhood not to be able to make me happy. And this is a man who is at least 15 years my junior. This was not about trying to please me because I was an attractive young woman. No, the woman he was struggling to please was a past-middle-age mom with graying hair, numerous wrinkles, and excess baggage in the caboose. Haha!
This is not to say that I don't take a firm stand when necessary. The very next day, using the authority of my husband because he was not here, I pointed out problems with some plumbing projects. This critique was magnanimously handled by the contractor, and I can't help but believe that it would have been different if I had not gained his respect in the prior conflicts.
Now, I know that not all men will respond as well as the ones with whom I have had experience. But in general, I believe they will, because that is the way God made them.
So, dear lady friends, I encourage you to take joy in your womanhood. You do not need to "wear the pants" to get things accomplished, and in fact, it is better if you don't.
Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. (Matt., 6:33)