I have the distinct impression that how-to-improve-your-marriage books are the leading cause of fights in our home. The first time this happened was with a book called Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. While I can’t exactly remember what the Venus business was about, I regularly make use of the wisdom of The Cave.

My understanding of The Cave is that men need to retreat to a quiet, dark place for a while before they are ready to engage in discussions with their wives about what the toddler flushed down the toilet, or who said what to whom and why. The Cave doesn’t have to be an actual physical hole in the ground, although that is preferable. It can include the computer room, the TV room, or every man’s favorite hiding place: the bathroom. Personally, I prefer the garage. It is the one place that no woman would ever dare to enter. There’s that wonderful oily sawdust smell and all those neat little boxes filled with screws and washers.  One time, we lived in a house that didn’t even have a garage. The closest I could get to The Cave was standing next to my car and reading the maintenance manual.

After the Men are from Mars book, the book that gave me the most trouble was The Love Languages. This book taught me the important truth that whatever you are doing for your wife to show her that you love her, it is the wrong thing at that time. The author, who I assume isn’t married, said that husbands need to stop showing love to their wives by buying them flowers or taking them to the electronics superstore. Instead our wives would really like it if we sat in a quiet room with them and looked at them with a kind of doe-eyed expression.

When I did that, my wife said, “Are you on drugs?” No, actually she knows I’m not on drugs. She just said, “What are you doing?”

I replied, “I’m speaking your Love Language by not saying anything and just listening to you talk.”

She said, “You’re making fun of that book aren’t you?”

“No,” I replied, trying to look at her in a calm loving way, “I’m just glad you’re my friend.”

Then she burst into tears and started telling me all her deepest feelings while I listened quietly and nodded.

Well, that’s what the book says should happen, but in our case what really happened was that we were interrupted by our toddler pulling a bookshelf over on himself. Phew.

The most recent book that was recommended to us was Men Are Like Waffles-Women Are Like Spaghetti by Bill and Pam Farrell. According to the Farrells, who do seem to actually be married to each other, men are like waffles and women are like spaghetti. That’s profound, isn’t it? This is the kind of vocabulary that a man can understand. Their definition of waffles is that men like to have everything compartmentalized in boxes, deal with one box at a time, and then move on to their favorite: boxes with nothing in them. Women, on the other hand, are like spaghetti. I didn’t quite understand this part very well. According to the Farrells, women have all these mixed-up strands of thoughts inside their head and when they start talking about one thing they invariably end up talking about a hundred other things because for them everything is connected and they are able to manage a million tasks and emotions and ideas in their heads. And just by talking to you, they feel better and more connected to you.

Does that make sense? Of course not. So I told my wife, “Hilary, that doesn’t make any sense. You are a very logical person and you don’t feel the need to blabber on and on about a bunch of disconnected issues while I nod like an idiot.”

Then she gave me The Look.

The Look is the one that says, “I’m not going to tell you that you are a bonehead and missing the opportunity to improve our marriage even though I’d really love that. Instead I’m going to make you so uncomfortable with The Look that you are going to go running for The Cave.”

So here I am in The Cave. I’m typing on my computer which has the comforting shape of a box. After she goes to bed, I’m going to hide that book before it causes any more trouble.