I was recently in California and stayed with a friend who has a really soft guest bed. I returned home on the warpath and demanded that my husband Ralf remove the 20-year-old army cot we've been sleeping on and replace it with the Sealy mattress we bought while living in California, which I then loaded up with memory foam. He did this and promptly hurt his back, so now he has to go for physical therapy and we're looking for a new bed.
But my topic today is cake. I only mentioned the bed thing because Ralf called me yesterday from the chiropractor to ask if he should pick anything up at the store. I gave him a list then immediately called him back once we hung up to ask him to pick up some cake.
I love cake. My book club once read a book called The Glass Castle, which is a very funny book about child abuse. I know, that sounds all wrong, but everyone turned out OK and it's pretty hilarious. The mother in the story would hide out eating chocolate while her 4 kids had nothing to eat. Everyone in the book club was up in arms about this but I felt a kind of secret sympathy.
Of course, I would never do that just for chocolate, but I have been known to hide out with a piece of cake.
Sadly, Ralf didn't pick up his phone and I didn't get my cake. So I made muffins.
This morning Ralf heard my message asking for cake and (fondly) called me a hormonster.
I said: You could have picked up some cake anyway.
He said: You didn't ask for cake.
Me: You should have known.
Ralf (staring at me across the great gender divide): That is the quintessential woman statement. How on earth should I have known if you didn't tell me?
Me: Because I always want cake.
Ralf (thinking he's joking): Should I just bring cake every time I come home?
I pondered this, wondering if Ralf had inadvertently stumbled upon the answer to all cross-gender misunderstandings.
The title of a bestseller occurred to me as well: Men Are From Mars, Women Like Cake.
What do you think?