Men Are Like Oranges, Women Are Like Onions

OK, let's forget all that Venus and Mars stuff and get down to the real deal. Men and women are fundamentally different, but the planetary analogy is fatally flawed. There's a better way to look at those fundamental differences. While apples and oranges may be the more common vernacular, it turns out that oranges and onions is closer to the way things are when comparing the sexes.

Let's talk about the guys first. Men are like oranges because we compartmentalize things. If you were to take a look at a man's psyche you'd find that we have four basic things on our minds--like an orange that has been sectioned into quarters. There's food, sex, work, and guy stuff. Fundamentally those are the four things that we think about. Guy stuff is a big category that might include things like sports, fishing, tools, explosions, gadgets and toys, and so forth. While it's true that some unusually complex men--say a Leonardo da Vinci--might have more than four compartments in their brains, for the most part men can get by just fine with only the basic four.

Case in point. Last week at work I'm visiting the facilities and note a coworker standing at the urinal talking on his cell phone. Typical guy behavior that. Since we can compartmentalize things whipping out a cell phone at the same time that you're whipping out another apparatus to make a call is not only natural, it's unremarkable. Not that women probably don't do the same sort of thing, but my guess would be that they would need to divulge to the person on the other end of the phone where they are and what they're doing while they make the call. A man would feel no compulsion whatsoever to confess that they're taking care of two kinds of business at once.

Now women on the other hand may compartmentalize things a bit, but they are much much more complex creatures than we men. To a woman things are wrapped up in relationships and how they all interact with each other. Like an onion there are layers upon layers, all wrapped around each other in a complex pattern of interconnectivity that no man can ever decipher.

Why, for instance, doesn't my wife like for me to go grocery shopping any more? For the first 8 years of my marriage it was my job to make the weekly grocery run. She hates grocery shopping, while I see it as a military campaign. Plan your attack, set your objectives, choose your route, and charge in. Simple.

But somewhere along the line it was decided that she wanted to take on the grocery task, ostensibly because I "spent too much". OK, sometimes I picked up the stray package of cookies or little treat that wasn't on the Approved Grocery List, but really, how much more did I spend? Not that much, but still she insisted. And for 10 plus years I accepted the story that the reason she had taken over the groceries task, despite the fact that she hated it and delayed shopping until we were begging her to bring home more food. It's a sad thing to see a husband and daughter staring into an empty refrigerator, let me tell you.

So recently I asked her why she persisted. "You hate grocery shopping. Isn't it worth the few extra dollars that I might spend so you don't have to do it?"

"Well", she says, "it's not just the expense. If I can put off grocery shopping there's always the chance that we might get to eat out a few more times. And that means less cooking and less clean up. So, it's a win-win for me. I put off a chore that I hate and in the bargain I get to go out to eat."

Huh. I never would have thought of it that way. Because to me it was about the compartments I had in my mind, but to my wife it was much more involved. Wheels within wheels, layers upon layers. The interrelationship between shopping and meals out and who has to empty the dishwasher. Complex relationships where actions and inactions have far-reaching results. An intertwining of ideas that no man would consider. Like an onion.

I'm not saying that my theory is perfect, but it's a start. Maybe here in my 47th year I'll finally start being able to really understand women.

Naaaah.