We were having hot pot and B asked me if I wanted to tag along on his boys’ trip to Alberta to visit my sister. I obviously said yes. Then he mentioned that his buddy wanted to go to Vegas instead but he wasn’t sure where he wants to go. I had mixed feelings about Vegas but I attempted to help him decide anyway.
“Which one will be easier to make money?”
“Vegas. There’s more fish there.”
“Ok then I guess Vegas wins.”
“Easier to make money, warmer, more things to do. Of course Vegas wins.”
“Stop. Stop making decisions for me. You always do this.”
“I was just helping you to list out the pros and cons”
“No. It’s like me telling you where you should go with your sisters.” (I fail to see the correlation)
“…Not really…I was just helping you to make the best choice.”
“No. I should be discussing this with N. Not with you.”
“Fine. Whatever. I was just trying to help”
“You don’t help. You tell people what to do.”
B and I are never on the same wave length. Me telling him what to do would be a simple “Fuck Vegas. You’re going to Alberta.”
I guess I could’ve just said “you decide hun, I’m sure you’ll have a great time in either places.”
It took me a whole week of analyzing why he got so mad in the first place. He prefers to make his own decision, even if it might be the same as my suggestion. I should come off more as “guiding” than “prescriptive”. Ugh. Men.
In his eyes, I have absolutely zero understanding of men. I’m inclined to agree with him on this, especially his type of men.