There was an interesting discussion recently with an online friend on the differences in men and women’s points of view over the same issue. And who has an easier time of it generally. And I present a summary of my arguments here.
Women have them, men don’t, but the proud possessors do not spend at least 1/10th of the time and attention on them that we the male folk do. Thank god, evolution did not give men breasts, or else all the greatest of this world’s discoveries, inventions and everything likewise would belong to the female gender while we men would spend all our time playing with our new toys. And of course, we also benefit by not having to say “check this out, mines bigger than yours, do you know how much I lift with it?” and all other kinds of boy talk.
Verdict– So chalk that ONE up for the girls’ team.
Internal plumbing Vs. External plumbing.
The only advantage I can think of having external plumbing is letting it all out whenever we see a transformer/lamp post/half wall. On the other hand carrying the family jewels out in an open exposed environment where they are apt to get bumped or dashed against any intervening obstacle carries the greatest of anxieties for men. It’s like your brains are hanging outside of your (safe) skull, open to the elements and possibly anyone can knock on them and give you a splitting headache. Talking of pain, if it comes to an Olympic competition of pain, a swift kick on the nuts carries a perfect 9/9/9 score from all the judges holding up their placards. Possibly beaten only by natural labor pains- which must rate a pure 10 on the scale. And whoever invented that instrument of torture called a zipper is no friend of mankind. What was wrong with fly-buttons? Why take the risk of positioning two sharp, interlocking, dangerous things in close proximity to the tender parts? Is there any man anywhere who has not at one time or the other got something locked in a zip halfway closed and (in a painful daze) promised himself that once free of the immediate pain, he would spend the rest of his life finding out and hunting down the man who invented the zipper for pants?
Verdict – ONE for the men and score’s EVEN.
This in a way is a personal peeve. Women can SHOW feelings. Men cant. At least we are not allowed to by society. We keep hearing this a lot- ACT LIKE A MAN. And that means swallow your tears and cover things up with a smile, while in a similar situation a woman is allowed to break down and go to pieces with everyone lining up to offer sympathies and hankies. Has anyone ever, ever, offered a hanky to a crying man? Not to my knowledge. The most he would get is a hard crack on the back and told to get on with it. Women get the “full service” sympathy treatment. We men don’t.
Verdict – Score TWO for the ladies.
Although we men are supposed to have large numbers of friends and pals, when it comes to real friendships women beat us hands down. Even if they have fewer friends (numbering in one hand), their friends really care about them. For instance if a women has a break up, her friends crowd around offering chocolate, support and curses for the evil one who broke her heart. Men friends? The dudes believe that a break up is the perfect party time – to celebrate with alcohol rather than offer moral support. The comments flow like outright criticism- “After all I wondered how long she would be able to tolerate you? Did you see the two of you together? Not a chance- knew this wouldn’t work out right from the beginning”- are a few sample “sympathetic” statements on offer. And they are even then considering the possibility that once the break-up becomes official, they can ask the girl out themselves, with nary a thought for the poor friend. After all he must have got over her and moved on right? And if the field is wide open, why not jump in before someone else does? No harm done.
Verdict – Score THREE for the ladies team.
Boner’s (affectionately labeled in polite society as an erection).
And this one’s a pure male malady. Women can get away with anything maintaining a poker face with nary a peek into their inner feelings. We men cant. We just cant. We have an enemy with us inhabiting our own body, who will betray us at every little interest. Coffee with your girlfriend and hot girl passing by? Salaam Namaste (Stand & Salute). The little guy strains to come out of there and take a peek and we have a hard time restraining his enthusiasm. It’s like it has a mind of its own and refuses to take orders from you- despite the storm it might whip up in a perfectly normal (till then) relationship. And hence the sudden departures to the men’s room in the middle of an engrossing conversation to spank the mischief-maker. And to return with apologies to the irate girl puzzled by your “apparent” mood swings. If only they knew. And add tight pants/dangerous zippers/ hot girls to the mix- and you have an explosive cocktail –with an accident waiting to happen at any minute. And men, the poor unfortunates can never say, the way women routinely do “my eyes are up here, why are staring down there?” So we are screwed both ways. Caught red handed with our own evidence pointing the way.
Verdict – A (sympathy) point for the dudes’ team.
Final Verdict : All Votes In. The Ladies Win It – THREE to TWO.