IMHO

Men Are From Mars...

My mentors in the realm of committed relationships happen to be two Christians I look up to and deeply respect. But right there, across the dinner table, Ate Ardis was vehemently disagreeing with Kuya Joe Dean, slapping his beefy forearm for emphasis, and, at the height of her annoyance, pulling at his ear as if he were a incorrigible (read: pasaway) toddler. I have the highest regard for their relationship as a Christian married couple, and I’ve come to realize over all this time of observation that the best marriages take a LOT of working at. After all, Christian or not, both husband and wife are still human, with flaws and failings and psychotic moments (thank goodness that Christians consciously aspire to act more divine than human, or, God forbid, to submit to baser animal instincts). More about what I learned from them soon.

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. I just finished reading that book, and man, was it an eye-opener. Who knew that men had all these weird irritating dispositions designed to drive a woman crazy (without their intending it!). I used to make a pretty good living being the female point-of-view of a “He Said-She Said” newspaper lifestyle column, especially since I played the mega-bitch to my former writing partner’s chauvinist pig, but very few people know that the hostility that brewed in our differing opinions was more real than apparent. Because my ex-writing partner really, truly was a chauvinist pig. And I really, truly wanted to push him off our 20th floor office balcony whenever I’d mention it. Oh all right, I admit that I was a mega-bitch as well, especially in those hedonistic pre-renewal the-world-revolves-around-me feminist days. But that’s changed quite a bit since then.

Case in point. A little while back, my BFF (Best Female Friend, for the uninitiated) was venting on her vehement refusal to leave these sunny shores to join her partner-in-life’s intended repatriation to Europe for better employment opportunities. She’d decided to let him leave while she and the kids carried on life as usual in the friendlier climes of Manila. But my fellow überbitch must be mellowing out, because she, in an apparent attack of conscience, subsequently declared: “Am I so bad??!? What would you do?”

My old, jaded, bitingly trenchant self would have said, “Live and let him leave! My happiness comes first, let him take me, as I am, where I am if he really loves me.” But I shocked even myself by my sage response: “I would be more miserable separated from the person I love even if I were in paradise.” And thus, feminism lost one of its greatest allies on that day. Who would have thunk that I had that kind of romantic selflessness in me? Eww! But yeah, apparently I do.

Men will be men. Unfortunately. Many of my closest friends are men; I’ve preferred to hang out in the company of men even before those When Harry Met Sally arguments, simply because they have no pretenses (most of the time I was the only girl left at the table, talking life and shop with my guy friends while my girl friends all retired en masse to the powder room for two hours. I only go to the ladies’ room to pee, for heaven’s sake, and I certainly don’t need a support group to do that!). Don’t get me wrong; I have fantastic female friends, but they’re strong, independent, authentic, no-nonsense females (oh ok, I have girly female friends too, but at least they’re genuine, strong internally, and have embraced their girliness without feeling the need to use it to manipulate). Men are just simpler to deal with. But apparently, at bottom, I am truly a woman – because I still find men way too complicated to understand!

Men are from Mars… is a big help, especially when it talks about men’s allergy against confrontation (huh? And I used to think that guys would break into a fistfight at the drop of a hat). Apparently they don’t like to talk about problems. Not sure about that, because my BMF likes to talk about his problems (I think that’s the reason he has two females as his best friends over almost 20 years, because we listen instead of trying to fix his life…most of the time anyway). Although I’ve never known him to willingly confront the person he has problems with, so I guess he’s par for the course. And men’s tendency to “withdraw into their cave”…what the heck? The diametrical opposite of women’s instincts to come out into the open and thresh issues out. Hmmmm. That explains a whole lot. But it’s still enough to drive you to drink.

And I’m so sure that men find women weird to deal with as well (mainly because men keep running into their freaking caves instead of sticking around to figure us out!). I should probably start writing again about how a woman’s mind and heart works (minus my aggravating ex-writing partner’s annoying side comments) – and I think I will, in the next succeeding entries. While I normally wouldn’t be caught dead recommending any Hollywood movies, What Women Want (starring Mel Gibson) and Hitch (Will Smith) should be good introductions into the female psyche. Or, in many a case, the female psycho. Oh yeah, I know exactly what stir-crazy looks like. Been there, done that. Trying desperately never to go there again!

posted by Honey Oliveros @ 9:29 PM