There are thieves in our house. They creep out of the heat vents in the night, silent and as invisible as air. They are not gremlins, goblins, or tommyknockers. They are brain-snatchers and they’ve gone after the biggest (arguably) brain in the house: that of my husband. It might be the biggest in terms of cranium square footage but I can tell you one thing: it is a male brain and therefore subject to inherent, built-in synapse misfires. Either that or stuff’s just missing. In his brain.
My husband is athletic, fairly physically fit. He gets a pretty good sleep, eats as well as can be expected for a father of two active, athletic children and who is married to a woman who loathes cooking. His brain is finely tuned, well-crafted, and well-excercised. he is not old, infirm or on the verge of dementia. But lately, he’s been forgetting things that he doesn’t normally forget. Keys, soccer gear, children. He is a highly programmed IT professional whose entire life is planned and input on either his Outlook calendar or on his Blackberry – all of this data is programmed by him as he has no assistant to do it for him. He is married to an incessant nag.
And, still he forgets.
I do believe, now that I’m witnessing this de-evolution at close range, that men in their mid-to-late 40’s go through something akin to female menopause. You know…menopause brain. Nothng else in this man’s life has changed except his age. Seriously, he doesn’t even have gray hairs. Well, maybe a few but I paint them in very carefully at night while he’s sleeping…
Could it be that men actually DO go through male menopause and it’s not just the wishful thinking of about a zillion women? I can’t tell you how wonderful it would be if someone (in the medical community) would actually publish such a finding.
Sadly, I’m afraid that my brilliant husband is just proving to be what I have feared him to be all along: a mortal man with a mortal brain. These typical male brains have been the basis for many a sitcom over the years. Right before my eyes, my husband is having Homer Simpson moments and I’m scared.
I’m not only scared because these things are happening, I’m scared because I am in the throes of menopause and cannot remember specific instances of what I’m talking about (hell, I can’t remember what I did 5 minutes ago, let alone him). You know…menopause brain…but TRUST me when I tell you he’s acting a bit off.
Maybe the brain-snatching aliens have been attacking me as well…