Suburban Turmoil: Train your Manimal

When you think of life manuals, Cosmopolitan magazine (hopefully) is the last thing that comes to mind. The publication is known both for its raunchy covers, featuring half-naked B-list starlets, and its provocative headlines, which have included such recent gems as, “Dirty Lying Brides,” “An Orgasm Almost Killed Her, “ and my personal favorite, “A Cougar Stole My Man.”

I haven’t picked up a copy of Cosmo since I was in my early 20s and even then, my face burned with shame as the cashier rang it up. However, when I recently happened across the Cosmopolitan headline, “6 Ways to Train Your Boyfriend,” I couldn’t exactly ignore it. After all, the article promised that I could get my man in line using proven techniques from animal trainers.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’ve been married seven years now and have yet to train my husband to do much of anything. Obviously, it was time for drastic measures. For the first time in my life, I decided to follow Cosmopolitan’s advice, beginning with the following nugget of wisdom from the article:

Ignore him when he’s being obnoxious… Since guys — like dogs — aim to please, he’ll instinctively begin to avoid the behavior that makes you freeze him out.”

I tested this technique as we were driving home the other night. Once we reached our neighborhood, Hubs began swerving back and forth on the road, prompting the kids to scream with delight from the backseat.

“I really… don’t… like this!” I said through gritted teeth.

“You loved doing this when the older girls were small,” Hubs laughed.

“That was when we had a car,” I said, “Not an SUV known for rollovers!”

Defiantly, Hubs swerved some more. I opened my mouth to shout and then stopped, remembering Cosmo. It took all that was in me, but I managed to freeze my face into a statue-like mask. Ignore, I told myself. Ignore! Ignore!

Hubs pulled into the driveway, paused and stared at me.

“You look….” He paused. “Presidential.” I didn’t answer. After a moment, he shrugged and got out of the car.

Clearly, my husband was not responding as a good dog should. I decided he was less canine and more equine, and turned to this Cosmo tip:

Place your hand on his as you speak. Not only does this buffer the blow of your words, but it also mimics the comforting way a trainer strokes a horse's mane to calm the animal down.

It didn’t take long for me to test it on my stallion.

“I don’t know why you think DirecTV would be cheaper than Comcast!” Hubs fumed yesterday afternoon, looking up from a DirecTV mailer. “I mean, did you read the fine print? Do you realize they want to charge $5 a month for each additional remote control?!”

I approached Hubs cautiously, and placed my hand over his.

“Comcast may be cheaper,” I said soothingly.

“Exactly!” he shouted.

“Whoa, now,” I crooned. “Easy, boy. Easy. There’s always Dish Network, too.”

Hubs stopped snorting for a moment. He looked down at my hand, still awkwardly placed over his. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s all about our cable options,” I said in a low voice. I paused and looked into his eyes. “Want an apple?”

Hubs was mesmerized. The reins were in my hands now, and life was looking good. I decided to take our training to the next level. Once again, Cosmopolitan had answers:

“When we need the chimps to perform a task, we get on their level and play with them for 5 or 10 minutes,” says Eugene Cussons, rescue director on Animal Planet’s Escape to Chimp Eden. “Once they’ve had some fun, they’re more willing to heed commands because they instinctively know it’s their turn to return the favor.”

As soon as I heard Hubs on the stairs this morning, I was ready.

“Well, come on down!” I said merrily, meeting him at the bottom of the steps.

“Huh?” Hubs asked, stopping short.

“Let’s dance!” I shouted. I threw myself at him and we began whirling our way across the den. Befuddled, Hubs spun me around until I tripped over my pajama bottoms.

“Enough!” I shouted.

He looked at me with genuine concern. “Lindsay? Have you blown a gasket?”

“I just wanted to play!” I shrieked with all the gaiety I could muster. Immediately, I got serious. “Could you take out the trash right now? Please? Thank you.” I gave him a gentle push toward the kitchen.

“Right now?” he asked. “Right this minute?”

“Yes,” I said. “Something smells in there.”

Within seconds, Hubs had taken out the trash and put a fresh liner in the can. It was a new record!

I could hardly believe it myself, but my husband was well on his way to becoming domesticated!

If I’ve learned anything from this experiment, it’s that Cosmopolitan magazine might not just be for slutty salon receptionists, after all.