Men are from Mars

Something made me think:
Del phoned me up the other day:
Me- Are we going to the pub?
Del- Yes
Me- What time?
Del- Ten.
Me- I'll meet you there. Bye.

Short, concise and to the point. Job done no messing.

A girl arranging a night out with her friend.
Jill- Hello Sue darling how are you?
Sue- Oh I'm fine, a bit tired, Rogers backs still playing him up.
Jill- Oh dear. What did the doctor say?
Sue- Oh he's to rest as much as he can and NOT play golf.
Jill- That'll upset him.
Sue- Upset him? What about me I have to live with him he'll be impossible to live with without his golf.
Jill- So how are the kids, Jenny and Becky?
Sue- Well you know I told you about Beckies school teacher that Miss Schofield, well you wouldn't believe who we saw her with at the Coalheavers Arms last friday night.....
Jill- Not......
Sue- Yes....
Jill- No......
Sue- Yes.....
Jill- You're kidding.
Sue- really bold as brass they were, no shame either, necking and making out like teenagers.
Jill- and she's teaching your becky?
Sue- I know............

This conversation bounces along in this vein for the next 40 minutes until finally .....

Jill- So what time do you think?
Sue- I don't know what are we wearing? Are you going to wear black like last time.
Jill- I thought I might, but it depends on what shoes you're going to wear.

This part of the conversation takes up another ten minutes. Until........
Jill- I'll pick you up at 7:30 then.
Sue- OK that's great. Oh my God I forgot to tell you... remember Pat? You know Patricia the one who...................................

And so it goes on. Result girls waste an hour doing what us guys can do in less then ten seconds. But there's more........

A man can go to the pub come back and his partner would ask -did you see anyone?
Man- One or two.
Wife- Was Sandra there?
Man- Oh yes she was there?
Wife- How is she?
Man - I don't know. She looked OK to me.
Wife- what about her husband Bob how is he?
Man- I didn't ask.
Wife- Has sandra got a job yet?
Man- Haven't a clue.
Wife- why didn't you ask?
Man- It's nothing to do with me.

You see a girl can meet another girl and in the space of ten minutes can get her whole life story, the name of her kids, husband, husbands job, address, phone number and the name of a great hairdresser.

Your average guy on the other hand can have known "Bob" down the pub for two years and still not know his surname or if he's even married. It's not important. This is a man thing. We don't place much importance on such matters. What do we care if he's married or not as long as he knows about sport, motors, power tools and a few good jokes?

So how do these totally different species interact? How in Gods name do we ever get together? We've nothing in common. Well, we have to play the game. We show our "feminine" side. RADA should take note of this, there's some great actors out there. So we feign interest in what our girls want to talk about. It works but not all the time. We can't keep it up. Ooer Missus. No we can't keep up the charade of being in touch with our feminine side, and revert to the "Yes dear" and "No dear" routine. You girls see through that instantly.

I don't want to be told what happened on "Eastenders". Tell someone who gives a shit. I don't need to know what Ian Beele is doing now. He's not real. It's a fucking soap. But I am bombarded with this information like it's real life and even if it was real life I still wouldn't give a shit. Ian Beele is not my problem. I don't have empathy with the silly sod.

How many times have you heard that stereotypical phrase "My wife doesn't understand me."? I never understood my wife. We're divorced now. I was discussing this with Helene tonight, she came to the conclusion that she thought like a man, she is not interested in small talk. She wont gossip about her neighbours. She wanted to talk about her new digital camera and it's specifications. How many mega pixels it has and the fact it has macro funtion, video function and other stuff. Christ! Have I fallen on my feet with this girl. Then she spoilt it by saying "You know I love you because you think like a girl. You are so sensitive. Not like other boys."
Bugger!
I want to be macho. I want to talk about power tools and motor bikes but my interests are wild flowers and nature. Oh and being a musician as well.
I am very uncomfortable with having a feminine side. I want to be the hard man of rock. But I'm not. I want to be the testosteroned fueled man of the moment. But I'm not. I have never been in a fight in my whole life. I abhore violence. I learnt to knit. I can sow my own buttons on and do my own ironing. I can cook. I can do embroidery. I do a fabulous job of changing a nappy. It's hardly Rock and Roll. I'm a man. I don't want to be a girl. But I can give the girls a run for their money.

One day I will introduce you to my Helene. She is French. She is petite. She is beautiful. She calls me her "Stupide Anglais". But at least the French hate us less then the Germans. Despite the differences between us boys and girls we have found a common ground. We have had to.

Rock on Dudes