The Male-ogist

There is a friend who reads my blog from time to time, especially this column. He then proceeds to say, “Well you’re a Male-ogist, aren’t you?”

A Male-ogist. This suggests that I know a thing or two when it comes to guys.

This couldn’t be further from the truth. Trust me, if I’ve figured out anything, I would gladly share it with everyone. But I haven’t. Even when my Mother keeps telling me that they’re really simple. If they say something, they mean it. There are no weird hidden messages. Yes means yes and no means no. If they’re not asking you out, then that is exactly what it is. My Mother makes it sound simplistic. And who knows? Maybe it really is as easy as that.

But so far I have managed to over analyze, over compensate, hallucinate and self-convince myself when it comes to understanding them. It’s the girl in me. We have a tendency to do that. Take this scenario, for instance. My girlfriends and I are sitting down having dinner. Now in man’s world, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing. You’ll sit and have dinner, then maybe afterwards you’ll talk about sports and insult each other a little bit, then call it a night. But in a woman’s world, dinner is a top-secret therapy session, where secrets and details are laid out, and each of the women will take turns over analyzing them until the subject is exhausted (which is why I never really watch The View. That’s just us during lunch hour, recorded). I would imagine that if a man is to sit and observe, he would go home quite traumatized. Dinner has now become emotionally draining and psychologically demanding. Nobody would even remember what the salad tasted like.

And even after all this, we’ll still end up having no clue what men are all about. Why do they say things and do another? Why don’t they call? How on earth could you tell if a guy is being nice because he’s being nice, or he’s being nice because he likes you? What does that text message mean? Why don’t they like to share feelings? Feelings feelings feelings. In a woman’s world everything revolves around feelings. When men don’t work the same way we get confused. And then we’ll keep talking about it all over. And over. And over again.

I look at older women, like my Mother, and realize that her approach to this subject is quite mellow. I don’t think she understands it completely either, but I think with age, we will soon understand that some things are just not meant to be understood. Maybe that’s the whole wonderful mystery of it. I don’t know. Ask me again when I’m forty and writing a book on this.