I love the company of men. Just came off the tennis court with three of them after winning the tiebreaker. The two who lost weren’t thrilled but they were gracious losers and even complimented me on being, “one helluva retriever.” Men play at sports and life, with an enthusiastic, ‘come what may’ attitude that I am still trying to master. They don’t get wound up in the pettiness of everyday nothings, which drives us women nuts when we want to TALK about them!
For example, if I walk into the sauna and it’s filled with guys I am greeted by hearty “Hello’s,” football stories and political debates. If there are only women. . .silence abounds. Today, for example there were 6 guys and 3 women sitting elbow to elbow. Since it was too crowded to move, I suggested that, “we all do toe exercises!” The guys thought it was a fun idea and immediately began taking off their sandals. The women left.
Now don’t get me wrong, men still drive me crazy. I have been married to one for 30 years who STILL cannot find the ketchup in the refrigerator!! Even my teenage daughters are non-plussed by his scarce recognition of how things work in his own home. (He once called me in front of them to ask, ‘Honey? Which one is the washer?’) Oh, yes he did.
This Valentine’s Day, I gave the girls stuffed ladybugs with chocolates inside. My husband gave us miniature, mechanical robots and took great delight watching them run across the floor and crash into things. He’s the fun one. Not me. I just replace the batteries.
Growing up, I always longed to be a boy. They just seemed to have more fun. But my grandmother always said, “You’ll change your mind someday, Dear. Men and women are different for a REASON.” She was right. I have finally figured out that reason. We are here to show them where the ketchup is. They are here to finish it up and turn it into a sprayer for the dog.
Oh, something else happened this Valentine’s Day: Someone sent me a dozen roses! It was NOT my husband. We are both mystified as to the sender because there was no card. But my guess? It was a guy!!! (Helen Hudson is the author of, “Kissing Tomatoes,” a memoir of her grandmother’s years with Alzheimer’s. http://www.helen-hudson.com).