From Askmen.com things women have done to fool us into doing and getting what they want.
It's a man's job
You do the dishes, vacuum, cook twice a week, do the laundry, scrub the tub, and take on baby duty. But that’s all entry level. “When are you going to mow the lawn?” “Gross, take out the garbage.” “Hello, that crack needs fixing.” The instant you suggest the game’s been rigged, your girl casts a spell on you with four words: “That’s a man’s job.” Suddenly you think, “That’s right, I’m the mother f*ckin’ man),” and proudly wear your Superman shirt to toss the garbage and mow the lawn, convinced you’re doing a public service. You've been had, man.
We’d grow hair out of our nose, ears, toes, back, knuckles, elbows, and palms if we could (we’ve tried). Let’s face it, we’re half caveman, a quarter gorilla and a quarter Sasquatch. Yet, most women want us to look like the dolphins they have tattooed on their lower back -- hairless, smooth and aerodynamic. So, every morning we voluntarily take a blade to our face, pay someone monthly to rip hair off our chest, and on “special” occasions may even pay someone to tear hair from between our legs. Make no mistake, what women praise as beauty steps, the Geneva Convention condemns as inhumane.
Her superior sense of fashion
Your girl constantly gives you fashion tips and feedback on your clothes. It’s become so frequent that you’ve even let her pick up things she thinks will look good on you. Uh oh. Now you’re standing in front of a mirror wearing a girlie white shirt with exposed nipples from a V-neck. Meanwhile, she insists, “Mmm, you look just like Johnny Depp,” with a sex-glazed look in her eyes. Sadly, that’s enough for you to hop over the last crumbling wall of your dignity, leave your house and seal your fate to a long night of embarrassment.
Five months ago you thought Salba was a dance and tempeh was a spice. Now you’re both eating king-size beds of lettuce with eight different varieties of beans and biodynamic olive oil. Since your girlfriend decided to eat healthier and put less stress on the environment, she’s inadvertently put more stress on every meal. It starts when you see the photo of a burger on a restaurant menu, dripping fat and wearing a thin layer of bacon. Then you hear: “Mmm, go for the portobello burger, I’ll get the veggie burger. They’re both carbon neutral.” Maybe. But you know very well that every meal choice you make is loaded.
“Normal” pregnancy weight gain
It’s natural that women gain weight during pregnancy. But indulge in a violent nine-month food orgy that leaves a trail of candy wrappers and empty tubs of ice cream, and you’re left with sore hands from being repeatedly slapped when you reach for a cookie. You hear, “I have to eat for two,” and so reluctantly give up your fries to tame the unruly beast that’s swallowing your girl bite by bite. But the truth is less dramatic. Women need to consume only 100 to 300 extra calories a day to keep the baby happy. Ready to bring her fantastic voyage to an end? Stand back and wear padding.
Not quartz, zirconium, igneous, or kryptonite. You can’t avoid it. One -- and only one -- rock will do for women on planet earth: diamonds. The conspiracy runs deeper than Inception’s dream layers. Starting from Marilyn Monroe’s famous ode to ice to celebrity necklace and earring endorsements from the red carpet to one of the surest signs that we’ve been compromised, the title of a James Bond film, diamonds are circled, underlined and bolded at the top of our shopping list all times of year. Can’t afford it? Your jeweler will put you on a payment plan. Think you can get between best friends?
Wedding proposal deadline
At exactly 7:32 a.m. when you woke up next to your future girlfriend and smiled at her, knowing it was more than a fling, the clock started. One-and-a-half years later the questions came from her friends: “So, have you thought about a ring?” “Do you know where you want to get married?” Incredibly, you sidestepped the questions with a welterweight’s quickness, and kept your head down for another six months. In year two, friend’s and family tightened around you with an anaconda’s grip to give you daily reminders. Where did the time go? It’s suddenly 7:32 a.m. on your three-year anniversary. Cue the THX music before a movie.
Sex as a reward
Sex used to be fun and unpredictable. Now your girl dangles it in front of you like a rabbit at a dog track. Tragically, she’s unearthed your most basic secret: You like to have sex. Rather than enjoy it steamy and unbridled, she’s realized its value, and like a passionate capitalist, has turned sex into a commodity to be used sparingly in exchange for services rendered like, “Take me to the Eat Pray Love premiere. Like a heroin addict anticipating his next fix, and with Scooby-Doo’s enthusiasm, we reply “Rokay!”
Only men have egos
You cooked a perfect burger. It’s just pink enough to taste good and not cause vomiting later. You celebrate: “Who’s the chef? Look at that meat, baby. I’m amazing.” Your buddies agree and pat you on the back, but your girlfriend rolls her eyes giving you the look you see before hearing “get over it.” While women are happy to cast us as troglodytes retarded by our egos, they’re fierce at poker, slag off other women for horrible fashion and comfortably freeze you out of bed if you don’t praise their hand knitting. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who else has the biggest ego of them all?
Guys' night out
Going out with your buddies was tradition when you were a bachelor; now it’s fraught with deception. Oh, you still get to enjoy it, but what you see as a natural pastime she positions as a treat for good behavior. Unwittingly, you agree to whatever terms she says, because it’s guys' night out! It has to happen -- it’s what you do. Little do you know, you’ve signed up to a week’s worth of dish duty, laundry, four cooking nights, two Sarah Jessica Parker romantic comedies, and babysitting. Exhausted by the end of the week, you only look forward to guys' night. Hmm… Remember how the Matrix works?