“Behind every successful man is a very surprised woman.” Maryon Pearson
Today I am exploring the never-ending debate of the fundamental differences between women and men. Because so much research has been done on this through the lenses of biology, psychology , physiology and occasionally trigonometry, I struggled to find a unique approach to this popular debate. Resisting the teachings from books that alluded to Mars and Venus, magazines like Cosmopolitan or progressive approaches like Sharia Law as my models. I made a more personal decision. I decided to simply expose my own learnings, from my marriage to share universal insights.
I did this for a couple of reasons. First, the idea for having to research things frightens me like a dog during a thunderstorm. Second, because my wife only reads thoughtful, well written articles, there was no chance that she will ever know I decided to talk about her. Though there might be a million differences in the popular gender argument, I got it down to the number eight, to honour New York Yankee great Yogi Berra who once said, “It ain’t the heat, it’s the humility.”
The first difference I noticed between women and men is the dramatic difference in the number of letters in the words men and women. Notice women get five letters while men only get three letters to spell their gender. I suspect this is because it generally takes men exactly half the time to tell a story than it takes for a woman to do this.
There is a large difference in the cost of keeping one’s hair at a presentable state. Nothing revealing in this obvious difference, except the economical impact on the household. A trip to a hair salon can cost a lady over $200.00 depending on the styling, cutting and colouring that will occur. I still go to a barber that cuts my stunning flowing locks for under $20.00. This ridiculous cost discrepancy falls under the gender conspiracy that screams sexual discrimination. Not sure how this started, but a beauty salon rider in current legislation that strives for gender equality should solve this one. Men might argue that a severely balding man pays the same as the follicly enhanced males, but that’s just because men like to argue about things.
Shopping. Enough said.
Shoe collection. Let’s be a little more accurate here, as men don’t have a collection, but more of a couple of pair of shoes. There is the good pair you wear to work and then the other pair you wear for everything else from cutting the grass to watching your wife shop. Women have more of an “Imelda Marcos” approach to foot apparel. What keeps men on their toes with this difference, is the female formula that supports numerous colours of shoes with the exact look in style. This genetic anomaly creates serious storage issues in your standard walk in closet. This difference does help keep the underperforming economy from total collapse as the thriving closet renovation business continues to drive the economy in most local communities.
Parenting is the one difference that has clear definitions of gender based roles and responsibilities. Children go to their fathers when a toy is broken or they need to increase the velocity of their slap shot. Children go to their mothers for everything else.
There is quite a discrepancy in each gender’s definition of romance. In those secret female society meetings that occur every Tuesday night at 8:00 pm disguised as “the book club” ladies gather to discuss in exquisite detail, the current state of their marriage. Concepts like candle light dinners and bubble baths are submitted as possible fantasy solutions to address male’s indifference. Males, who are consistently distracted by whatever professional sport is dominating the weekend TV schedule, have yet to expand their definition of romance with any idea that doesn’t involve the word pizza.
Now music is always a very personal choice and is a very delicate discussion as couples argue over the perfect playlist to accompany an evening with friends. Men tend to debate the legitimacy of a Springsteen lyric or the edginess of a forgotten classic while the female position is often simply the danceability of the tune. This difference causes pre dinner tension, as each equal partner emotionally justifies their song selection. One compromise after another occurs and in the end my male friends question my testosterone levels, as they endure one Michael Buble song after another as we eat our meals. Meals that I take credit for making, though my only contribution was standing at the BBQ for seven minutes.
Here is the final and undoubtedly the most disturbing difference in my personal gender debate. My wife remains a kind, gentle, beautiful creature, while somehow possessing emotional intelligence beyond most male’s comprehension. She is the most extraordinary woman to ever have said yes to me when I nervously asked her to dance years ago. I am unsophisticated and barbaric. Even my closest male friends would describe me as insensitive to a fault, boorish, and loud. I am just that typical tee shirt wearing Neanderthal who considers basic hygiene optional. I make inappropriate comments hourly as I try to remind this lady of my athletic abilities that have long past their significance. I have the unique talent of offending others while convincing myself I am the funniest guy in the room. Her most remarkable trait is this mystical power to overlook all of this. I am not sure if that is a trait that employs extraordinary tolerance or a severe character flaw. It forces me to question her judgment in soul mate selection.
The reliance on luck should not be the foundation of the most important relationship in people’s lives, but unfortunately this is a secret truth with most men who attain some sense of success in any long-term marriage. Perhaps all the ladies of the world know this, and just like to keep their husband agonizing over the fortunate circumstance that they stumbled into so accidentally. I suppose the best mysteries of life are best left unsolved, as I just sit here Wondering Why?
I’m just watching you as you are fading out of view,
And you don’t realize I just stop and stare.
Every night I know that I have earned the right to show you,
So Apologies if you are not aware
Everyday this thing keeps growing you take me not ever knowing,
I just sit here Wondering Why?
Every move you make reveals the less you seem to take,
And I still marvel at the things you want give me.
I may not express, the way you sparkle in your dress,
And if that’s true I ask that you will just forgive me.
Everyday we bridge resistance, shortening potential distance,
I just sit here Wondering Why?
It’s our very own love story
Neither one is seeking glory
And it leads me to this Wondering Why?
I know I should share, about the way I really care,
And if I don’t it’s not I won’t reveal my feelings.
But when you talk about my words that often leave you doubt
I have to contemplate the thoughts I am concealing.
I will try to work much harder, not to make you my Love Martyr,
I just sit here Wondering Why? Wondering Why?
Cue the Blong, Though it is precisely the musical version of the note above. Feel free to add your own melody if my expression fails to capture the appropriate background music