Dodge This One

Full disclaimer: I didn’t watch the Super Bowl. My post yesterday will probably hint to you that I don’t care about the Super Bowl, or its half-time show, or the ads. My friends on Facebook and the message boards I frequent were dissecting the ads last night, though, and there seemed to be universal revulsion for the Dodge Charger’s “Man’s Last Stand” ad. So I went to check it out:

Um . . . are you serious? No, really? We women are fun-suckers who make it so guys can only express themselves through a Dodge Charger (Dodges, by the way, are awful cars, so I would fully expect the Charger to fall apart should a man choose to make a last stand in one). Let’s examine the list of things that poor men have to engage in because we harpies have trapped them into a life of quiet desperation:

I will get up and walk the dog at 6:30am. Bzzt. 6:45am, and I’m the first one up, if you can believe it. No dog. I would love a dog. IP hates dogs. Ergo? No dog. (Don’t tell me to get a cat: I hate cats and IP’s allergic.) If we had a dog, I’d run with the damn dog. That’s why I’d want one: instant running buddy I would take care of since I wanted him, not IP.

I will eat some fruit as part of my breakfast. I do encourage IP to eat fruit. But he never really listened to me and has, subsequently, stumbled onto a love of clementines on his own. I had nothing to do with it. On the other hand, he sometimes gently pushes me towards vegetables. What’s that, you say? A woman who doesn’t subsist on celery? The horrors!

I will shave. I do like a clean-shaven man, but should IP really feel the need to go back to his mountain man days, he can go back to his mountain man days. I’ve no authority over his facial hair just like he has no say in how short I cut my hair.

I will clean the sink after I shave. Yeah, I don’t recall ever demanding this at all. He’s done it of his own volition since we moved in together. I’m actually the one who loses hair like nobody’s business and has to keep an eye out for gatherings of my hair here and there.

I will be at work by 8am. Bzzt again. 9am. And I’ll be at work, too. Why does this ad assume that women are at home and are forcing men to be the breadwinners? Do they not realize we’re in a recession? That two incomes are needed to survive these days? I do the commute, too, I dislike my job, too, but I do it because it’s necessary. And I don’t believe women created the corporate and economic structure. Who was that? Oh yeah. Men.

I will sit through two hour meetings. So will I. They’re boring as can be but they’re a part of the job. And you know what makes my job bearable? No, not my goddamn car (which is a great Mazda3), but knowing that I get to end the day with my husband at home.

I will say yes when you want me to say yes. Please don’t be spineless. It’s unattractive in anybody, male or female. You protest? Then protest.

I will be quiet when you don’t want to hear me say no. Why does the media insist on perpetuating the idea of a man keeping his counsel in the face of a shrew? Why is equality in communication so hard to envision? Why are women supposed to always carry the day when we so obviously don’t? I don’t make as much as you do, my reproductive capabilities are always up for legislation, I’ve been of a victim of sexual harassment. All done by very vocal, aggressive men. We’d love to hear you keep quiet about our pay, our wombs, our fine asses (among many other things). But you don’t. So don’t pretend we limit your freedom of speech when it’s men who tend to limit our freedom of movement and being.

I will take your call. And I will take yours. What’s your point?

I will listen to your opinion of my friends. And I will listen to yours. There are a bunch of IP’s acquaintances whom I don’t like. He’s not shy about mocking my friends, either. Guess what? He doesn’t hang out with the ones he dislikes. I do the same.

I will listen to your friends’ opinions of my friends. Yeah, no. That doesn’t happen. And if it did, I’d want IP to point out how inappropriate this is so I could call out my friend (and vice versa).

I will be civil to your mother. IP loves my mother. He loves my dad so much he’s willing to pay $1,000 to call him “Dad”. As pleasant as IP’s parents are to me, I’ll never have the rapport with them that he has with my parents. So yes, I will be civil to IP’s father and mother, thanks.

I will put the seat down. Yeah, IP does leave the seat up at times. But? Guess what? It doesn’t bother me. I am able to put the seat down if need be, just like he pulls the seat up if need be.

I will separate the recycling. I do this, too, macho man.

I will carry your lip balm. Huh? Why just the balm? Anyway . . . When IP sees me balancing my purse precariously for one reason or another, he’ll ask me if I need him to hold my purse. I will usually say no, but sometimes I can’t keep my balance and have to say yes. What’s the big deal? He offered. And? I carry his stuff in my purse all the time.

I will watch your vampire TV shows with you. I hate vampires. We don’t have a TV. Yet I have plenty of shows I like, but I don’t force IP to watch them with me on YouTube, Hulu, or iTunes. Why? Because I don’t need to have him there 24/7. We’re both introverts and like to have some time to ourselves, and that sometimes includes mindless media for the both of us.

I will take my socks off before getting into bed. Is this really an issue? I wear socks to bed. My feet get cold. IP does not. Is there some kind of gender imbalance that we’re currently unaware of, a social norm we’re violating? Someone please explain!

I will put my underwear in the basket. Another thing that I think IP was doing of his own volition before I showed up, I believe. He’s pretty organized. I’m the clutter person. He gets exasperated at me. How’s that for role reversal?

And because I do this, I drive the car I want to drive. So . . . a man is willing to put up with so-called emasculation and inequality (which, in most cases, are just examples of the responsibilities all adults have, not just  men) just so he can drive a Charger. I don’t know about you other couples out there, but we like to do things on equal terms around the WordNerdia-IPia household. And we all have to do chores that add up, yes, in order to bring some semblance of order to our lives. We all engage in routines because, hey, that’s adulthood, and I’m sure most guys were on a similar daily schedule before they coupled off with their partners (or were they just smashing beer cans against their foreheads? Somehow I think not.). IP and I are also quite kind to each other, and like to brighten each others’ day, be it little stuff like IP visiting me at work for lunch or me going to the deli to pick up some beer for the weekend.

Being together means cooperation, and that means that one side is not always on the triumphant side, changing the things she hates about the man and making him into a good, pliant husband. The best thing about IP is that he makes me pause, evaluate, sometimes modify my beliefs, attitudes or actions. I know I do the same for him. A good partner makes you grow, and I’m willing to bet that the people (men) who made this commercial have no idea how to communicate with a woman as a person—we’re probably just little ladies who are fun to have sex with, but take away their fun in exchange. So what’s the only escape? A car! The only place of sanctuary.

Except that men dominate and run the private and public sectors of our lives. The fact that this even aired speaks to the dominance of men; the female version would never air (let’s see . . . I will let you sleep when you can’t get out of bed with your mild, spring cold; I will let you take your mother’s side even though you’re supposed to back me up; I will raise our children single-handedly while you play Xbox; I will wear makeup so that you don’t have to see the real me; I will attend all school meetings without you because you’re tired from your job [never mind that I am, too] . . . shall I go on?).

What is with the anger? What is with the need to revolt (sometimes violently) against half of the population when you basically control the world and there’s really nothing against which to revolt? The whole Michael C. Hall narration on the Dodge one was creepy. It’s like, hey, let’s see how far we can push this suburban family man/serial killer to the edge with the humdrum of everyday life that applies to everyone but that women obviously imposed. Must kiiiiilllll perceived domestication, even if it’s only while driving a car.

Don’t even get me started on the Bridgestone Tires one. That one was just. sick.

Nice one, advertisers. You just managed to offend half of your consumer base on the most-watched night of the year. I  never pay attention to the ads and even I’m pissed.