Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man

The Playbook
PART THREE

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9
M e n R e s p e c t S t a n d a r d s — 
G e t S o m e
T
here are a few things you should know about my wife, 
Marjorie: She is incredibly talented and supportive. 
She is just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the 
outside. She loves the Lord. She is a terrific mother to our chil-
dren. She’s classy and smart. And she cares for, respects, and 
adores me deeply.
You should also know that my wife has a set of standards that 
I have known about and respected from the first day I met her.
It started while I was doing a show in Memphis. She walked 
in with another attractive woman. I couldn’t help myself; I 
stopped mid-joke and said, “Excuse me, I know you don’t know 
me, but one of these days, I’m going to marry you.” She laughed 

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and said, “You don’t know me.” But I didn’t care and I told her 
as much. I knew right then and there we were going to be mar-
ried some day (of course, this was really more of a hope than a 
certainty—smile).
Maybe she knew it, too, or at least liked what she saw because 
even though she disappeared the night I informed her of my 
plan, she showed up two nights later at another show of mine, 
and this time, I asked her to come backstage and talk for a while. 
She agreed, and we became fast friends, and even dated for a 
spell. But eventually, we both went our separate ways. Still, Mar-
jorie and I always remembered the friendship we had together, 
and we reached out to check up on each other from time to 
time.
Finally, Marjorie and I reconnected and started dating again; 
we got serious pretty quickly, both of us realizing that we had 
missed out on a great relationship once, and we didn’t want to 
risk losing out on it again. But, even though I knew I was in 
love with this woman and that she loved me, I was still con-
nected to some women friends I had developed after my divorce, 
when I had really started dating again.
Well, one particular night when Marjorie was visiting me at 
my home in New York on Valentine’s Day weekend, one of 
those friends called my cell. I didn’t talk much—said, “Hi,” 
told her we’d chat another time and that I’d stop and see her if 
and when I was back in town, and then hung up. I didn’t even 
think Marjorie heard the conversation—at least she wasn’t 

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acting like she did. I should have known better, though. She’s 
got that “mother” hearing—doesn’t miss a thing. And sure 
enough, late that night, when I got up to go to the bathroom—
it was about 3:00 
A
.
M
.
—there was Marjorie in the hallway, 
standing there in her fur coat with her suitcase in her hand. She 
was going to leave me—leave us.
“Where you going?” I asked her. Her response made me 
realize right then and there, in the middle of that hallway, in 
the middle of the night, that she was The One.
“I’m not trying to be anybody’s plaything or anybody’s 
woman on a string,” she said matter-of-factly, her suitcase still 
in her hand. “I don’t think you’re ready for what I have to offer. 
I got these kids, I have a good life, and I want a man who will 
come in and complete my family. If this is what you want, too, 
I’ll be in Memphis.”
After I picked up my jaw, I asked her to give me one more 
chance, took her bags, and immediately found my phone and 
snapped it in half. I’d lost her once—this beautiful, smart, sweet 
woman—and no other woman could be as loving and dedi-
cated to me, to us, or to my children. I realized right then and 
there, in that hallway, that I wanted no other.
In other words, I became the man she needed me to be be-
cause she had sense enough to have requirements—standards 
that she needed in her relationship in order to make the rela-
tionship work for her. She knew she wanted a monogamous 
relationship—a partnership with a man who wanted to be a 

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dedicated husband and father. She also knew this man had to be 
faithful, love God, and be willing to do what it took to keep 
this family together. On a smaller scale, she also made clear that 
she expected to be treated like a lady at every turn—I’m talking 
opening car doors for her, pulling out her seat when she’s ready 
to sit at the table, coming correct on anniversary, Mother’s Day, 
and birthday gifts, keeping the foul talk to a minimum. These 
requirements are important to her because they govern how she 
will be treated; they are important to me, too, because they lay 
out a virtual map of what all I need to do to make sure she gets 
what she needs and wants. After all, it’s universal knowledge 
that when mama is happy, everybody is happy. And it is my sole 
mission in life to make sure Marjorie is happy.
Men can’t accomplish this mission for you without your 
help; we can’t possibly begin to fathom what it is you women 
need and want because your needs and wants change from 
woman to woman like the wind does from city to city. Men are 
very simple, logical people; if you tell us what you like and 
what you don’t like, we’ll do anything we can to make sure we 
live up to your expectations, particularly if we’re interested in 
forging a relationship with you. (But beware of telling a man 
everything you like when you first meet; I’ll tell you why later 
in the chapter.)
But really, we’re not programmed to figure it out. It really 
makes us quite happy when you lay out your requirements for 
us. And we need you to do it up front, so we can decide if we’re 

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up for the challenge—not two weeks into the relationship, not 
two months after we’ve had sex, not two years after we’ve said 
“I do” in front of the preacher and our respective families and 
friends. Heck, we’ll take them while you’re standing there at 
the bar, sipping on the peach martini we just bought you, so 
long as you’re laying them out. Because now you’ve given us a 
road map for how to conduct ourselves, especially if we’re truly 
interested in a relationship with you.
Understand that this chapter is not a license for you to start 
running down your list of “I can’ts” and “I won’ts” and “you 
better not nevahs” as soon as a gentleman approaches you. We 
do like some kind of decorum. You’ve got to finesse the situa-
tion—tell a man what you require without making it feel like 
you’re ticking off a list of demands. It really is all in the deliv-
ery; if you tell him your requirements in the midst of conversa-
tion, and they sound attainable, and you shape your standards in 
soft language, it’ll be easier for him to understand, and, more 
important, act on them. Think about how crazy he’s going to 
look at you if, finger wagging, you just come out your face and 
say, “I will not tolerate a man who does not understand my role 
as a mother—if you got a problem with my kids and the rest of 
my family, you got a problem with me!” It’ll be the equivalent 
of the needle scratching all the way across the record; he’s going 
to think, at best, that you’re angry—at worst, you’re crazy, and 
perhaps your family is, too. But imagine how he’ll feel if you 
flip the script and say something pleasant like, “Oh, you know, 

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I have kids and they’re number one in my life because my par-
ents raised me to understand the importance of family.” Now, 
he knows you’re one of those good girls—sweet, responsible, 
and family oriented. If he’s not that guy, he’ll move on to the 
next woman—the one with no requirements who’s down for 
whatever. But if he’s a man who shares your belief in the im-
portance of family, he’s going to keep talking to you, and listen 
for more of your standards.
Here are a few more examples I’ve laid out for you so you 
can see how to wrap up your requirements in one of those 
pretty bows.