Something I've noticed about men

On Jodie's blog recently I commented that Tim was rude to me; he retorted that I should be 'touched' because he is only rude to people he likes.

Alun's the same. I put up with hours of abuse in the office and he claims it's only because he likes me, adding, 'but it's all true!'

Women are rude to people they don't like; men are rude to people they don't like and to people they do like. It's like the little boy in the playground who goes and pushes over the girl he likes. They're just unable to express emotion in any other way, being all masculine and manly.

What happened to poetry? What if (desperately tries to think of a poet who wrote about women rather than daffs or bridges or war) Shakespeare had written,

Shall I compare thee to a broken down car?
Thou art less rusty and more weathered:
Rough winds do shake the steering wheel sometimes,
And the bottom's pretty holey:
Sometime too hot the heating doth blow,
But more oft far too cold;
And every bit of welding declines,
By chance or holes in road;
But thy windscreen shall not crack
Nor lose possession of that windscreen wiper;
Nor shall Mercedes brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in lay-bys thou waitest for rescue:
So long as men can drive or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

(Just a minute, I can hear a drip somewhere ... found it. I needed to turn the tap on to stop it dripping.)

Where was I? Oh, yes, men and poetry. Where has the poetry gone from men's souls? Prove me wrong, boys. Be nice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The upstairs toilet is sitting on the landing. That is fine except husband gets home tonight and I fear that if he gets up in the middle of the night, in his still-sleeping mode, he won't notice and pee on the floor.