A Wife with a Beater at the Tilt
Posted By admin on September 3, 2010
For a very long time, I wanted to write this. And every time, I postponed it… I have been watching.
Until I made sure that the most frequent search phrase in my online project for international families “Happy Life with a Russian Wife” is “dominant wife” in its different variations. And, by the way, it was the same for both the English and Russian versions of the project.
I have also found out that the search phrase “you are a jerk” is pretty popular. It got into my blog “Life in the Era of Change” a few years ago thanks to a single publication “What to Do if You are a Jerk, or a Real Quarrel is a Creative Thing.” This post, as I remember, was my response to a desperate man, whose sister did not call him any other way.
Judging by this indicator, women seem to be extremely aggressive creatures, reminding me of such huge country women with beaters in their hands. However, once I came across a search phrase, “Why does my husband get angry at me after 25 years of marriage?” The question sounded somehow sheepishly though.
God forbid, I am not going to defend or justify, or blame anyone. My clients (mostly women) and I quickly sort these things out, and their relationships begin to improve even on the verge of divorce. It is next door to a miracle.
So I would like to talk a little bit about the following unconscious contradiction fixed steadily in stereotypes.
Almost all women seek marriage. When they do not want to get married, they long to have meaningful relationships. I am no judge of men’s aspirations, but it seems they do not mind getting married either as far as the majority of them sooner or later says goodbye to their bachelorship.
So we can conclude that family is a very attractive institution for those on this side of the barrier. As soon as you find yourself on the opposite side of it, you realize that it is a cell you would eagerly escape.
Think about the following stereotypical beliefs: “a husband or a wife should…,” “children are obliged to…,” not mentioning of the parents who seem to owe it to everyone. These statements are totally invalid. (more…)


Continuing our conversation about wealth, I am going to reveal a terrible secret to you, which the Boy Nipper Pipper would have never betrayed to the enemy. But I am not the Boy Nipper Pipper, I love life, and not someday, but right here and now. In addition, I am terribly afraid of pain; I cannot stand torture, both physical and emotional. I faint even from the look of injection needles, and when brought to watch scary movies with flesh devouring or the details of surgical operations, I close my eyes and ears tight until my husband lets me know that the worst is behind.
That was six years ago… By November, almost all of my family gathered in a three-room apartment with the total area of 64 square meters. “Almost” – because only my son-in law was not present, rebuilding a new apartment in another city. At the same time, there were my daughter with her four-months-old baby, my son and his pregnant wife and, of course, me.
Imagine you come to a concert. No, not the rap-and-wild-shout type of a concert with mistimed singing. This is the concert you ceremonially get ready for during a long time, meticulously choosing your dress and makeup (and if you are a man, you would have shaved, and shined your shoes with a brush). You are prepared to listen to the CLASSICS (pronounce it breathy).