Inger and Ophie blame charlie. Charlie‘s crimes are first-world sins. Things would be easier if he would do something demonstrable like wear a MAGA hat at a BLM protest. They are not easier.
Charlie is a couch slug. He gets space on this blog because Inger and Ophie won’t stop talking about him. I’ve learned not to mention his name in their presence because he is triggering. Why blame Charlie? He appears in a half-dozen or so posts in this space. I’ve named the things I don’t like about him in those posts. He is also a b-roll character in Inger’s Finger who came with the Stuart Street home as a needed accessory. Inger’s Mom thought he was needed. Inger disagreed. Inger let him stay at Stuart Street for a few months while he slimed the basement with Gen Z bougie white boy detritus. Then she kicked him out. Inger, like many women, cares deeply about the nest. You don’t threaten the nest. Human women don’t have nests? Trust me, they have nests.
To be a guest in a woman’s nest you have to behave. Her nest is a minefield of unspoken expectations you only find out if (a) you were raised by a Mom with similar expectations or (b) you step on an expectation and it explodes. No, you don’t always know where these expectations are. And they are not static. Some of them move around the nest and change their triggers depending on her mood. Some women who struggle with dysmenorrhea set all the expectation triggers to proximity so you don’t even have to step on it. If you are in the nest they will explode. More reasons men need to love God dearly.
There are Rules
Both Inger and Ophie have rules for men who enter the nest. Some of them are easy to guess. The toilet seat must be put down once a man is done relieving himself. The great toilet paper debate is a battle no man can win. it is over the top for Inger. For Ophie it’s under. Both of them believe that a man has to prove himself. So they shit-test men. Next, the kitchen towels. Behind the cupboard door in Inger’s 16th Street house are kitchen towels too far gone for display. These are the towels she uses to cook and clean with. Beautifully placed on the handle of the oven door are two Egyptian cotton towels with silk and precious metal embroidery of a Pharoh’s head. They are Mamaw’s towels from her missions trip to Egypt. You don’t touch those towels.
Ophie has her grandfather’s law books. Pawpaw was a Superior Court judge. He kept his own law library. Some of the books are collectible. Most of the contents are now available through a phone. For Ophie, though, they smell like Pawpaw. So she keeps them. You can use them but only at a table with special lighting and with white cotton gloves.
Last thing. Shoes stay outside. There are numerous expectations set to explode if you step on the carpets with your dirty shoes. Do that enough times and both women start ruminating on revenge fantasies involving Smith and Wesson 500 revolvers. Ok, not the last thing. Inger more than Ophie, if you are a man and it is near bedtime, you are walking the perimeter. Every window and door must be checked to ensure it is secure. I know, guys, there is tech for that. The man will walk the perimeter anyway. One reason Charlie isn’t still living at Stuart Street is Inger’s inability to get him to put down his game controller and do this for her.
Charlie’s Gun Crime
Just having a gun proves you are stupid. Especially having a gun that hasn’t been cleaned since you picked it up at the gun shop. Worse a pistol so loaded down with rifle kit that it’s unusable. Both Inger and Ophie are NRA-qualified marksmen. Inger has been to an outdoor range with a former Marine rifle instructor and passed their Marksman qualification. Both women are active members at Henrico’s Colonial Shooting Academy. Their weapons are well maintained.
This brings me to a little anecdote. Charlie, full of himself, as usual, boasted to Inger that he could put 50 bullets into the bullseye of a target at 100 yards with a pistol. Ok, one more crime. Don’t boast unless you can do it. Inger invites him to the range and he’s a no-show—twice. The third time he shows up with a nasty Glock 19 that jams constantly. Charlie sat through the safety video and ignored it. Inger and the range master asked him to leave the range. Charlie started to protest and blame the gun. You don’t do that. If the range master asks you to leave, you leave. Oh, and none of Charlie’s shots ever hit the target at 10 feet.
Inger, being ever the polite southern woman, walked Charlie and his hot mess Glock, to the gunsmith counter. She took the gun from Charlie and asked the gunsmiths to service it. Inger paid, “I’ll walk you outside. Did you drive here?”
“No. I rode the bus.”
“Here, take this for bus fare.”
He Must Have Money
And another thing. Inger and Ophie expect a man to have money. This doesn’t mean rich. It means that on inviting a woman on a date he has prepared himself so he can afford the tab. It also means creating an invite that is within his means. Yes, both women like to fight over the tab. But this is a test. A guy has to be ready to pay even if either woman ultimately pays. Inger giving Charlie bus fare is a huge loss of face.
Charlie tells the world that he is self-employed as a stock trader. He has an MBA in Finance so one would expect that he knows what he is doing. Think about it, though. Charlie, at critical moments, punks out. He turns out to be a pussy.
Having money requires discipline. Making money in a high-stakes game like arbitrage means sometimes taking big risks. Charlie is a slug. He doesn’t like risk. He’s also all hat and no cowboy. So his trading accounts are unimpressive. He’s mostly in the S&P 500 and old-school blue chips like GE and IBM. He sold all his Apple, Oracle, and Microsoft a long time ago. Charlie has no discipline when it comes to shopping for Zombie apocalypse supplies and Halo cosplay stuff. His mortgage is near foreclosure but he has the latest Xbox kitted out.
Blame Charlie the Slob
Detritus from Charlie leave a slime trail. Empty Dorito bags, used Diet Pepsi bottles with tobacco spit. Stains where he tried to spit into a container and missed. Piles of foam takeout boxes and Doordash receipts. You can tell if Charlie has been somewhere.
Ok, this one even pisses me off. Flush the toilet, please. I know, in California where the ambient level of anxiety is normally at “FREAKING OUT!!!!!”, you only flush when you shit. Even then, you don’t flush with city water. You save your grey water from bathing and dishwashing to flush with. Eeew.
A bit of a tangent. I messaged Ophie asking if there are rules guys must obey in preparation for this piece. She named six.
- Use the same cup all day. Dirtying up a bunch of dishes will get you on her shit list. Related: if you used it, you clean it. God’s purpose for Eve wasn’t just as scullery maid.
- Hang the shower mat up so it dries and doesn’t attract mold.
- Don’t walk through the house with your shoes on.
- Don’t leave empty food containers in the fridge. Also, if you ate the last of something then you are the one who will replace it.
- Ask before you eat the last of something.
- Use Febreeze or Lysol or some such in the bathroom after doing your business.
Did any of Inger or Ophie’s expectations explode? No. One piece of this is that she has to care enough to set the triggers. You know she’s a bit into you if you start finding expectations set to explode when you are with her. What about Charlie? They do blame Charlie. But these expectations were set to limp dick instead of explode. So when they go off they just sort of queef.
Last thing on this. Ophie repeated to me that a guy who is older than thirty and still not with a woman has reasons about him why this is true. Charlie is north of twenty-five and an incel. Charlie will tell you it’s not his fault. I disagree.