The Forgetfulness of Men

There must have been a scientific study done on this concept at some point. If I could be bothered to go and look for one I would, but I can't, so you will have to make do with my own findings instead. The thing that made me initially consider the fact that all man are crap at remembering things was the case of English soccer star Rio Ferdinand who allegedly forgot a routine drugs test, in order to go shopping, and was subsequently banned from playing. How forgetful could a man be? Well, on the night of Ferdinand's appeal I realised I was probably living with a man that was easily as forgetful, if not more so. I went into the spare room where the computers are and told my other half, (or Ratboy as he wishes to be known) that his dinner was on the table. Five minutes later I had to go back to get him, as he had forgotten this.

If I go out, he either:

(a) Forgets I am out, especially when he is out as well, and wonders why I have not answered the home phone;
(b) Forgets what I am doing, and asks vague questions as to my evening, so as not to give himself away;
(c) If he remembers where I am going, he forgets who I am going out with.

Last week was local and European elections. I voted in the morning on my way to work, he declined to come with me as it was raining and planned to vote on the way home. During the day he asked me (via e-mail) about some of the candidates and how many votes we had per section. At 5.30pm he phoned me to say he was going for a drink after work. At 8.45pm I phoned him to find out where he was - still in the pub. "Are you not going to vote?" says I, "Oh shit. I forgot" says he, unlikely to be able to get back to the polling station in time.

This afternoon I emptied a white wash out of the machine. One of Rayboy's shirts had a large brown stain on the pocket, inside the pocket was a tea-bag. He had put the tea-bag in his pocket to go and make a cup of tea whilst at work, and promptly forgot.

I rest my case.