Men Versus Women

I often generalise about women (much to Mrs PM’s disgust) and despite the criticism I stand by what I say.

Women are fundamentally different from men.

I’m not just talking about appearance (even I know that); I’m talking about outlook on life, reaction to ideas, inner thought processes, goals – just about everything in fact. Mrs PM sometimes accuses me of being sexist, but I think I’m being observant. We are different creatures.

I’d like to prove this to Mrs PM and to any other people out there who disagree with me. One item of proof is that fabulous book written about the differences between men and women:

“Men Are From Earth; Women Are From a Completely Different Galaxy in an Alternate Reality”

Once more I have trawled the internet for evidence, not only for your benefit, dear reader, but also to prove that I am correct. Here’s what I have observed and discovered:

SOCIAL GATHERINGS

When women get together, they basically sit and talk all night about anything and everything. What’s more they actually listen to each other and do care about what is said. They also want to know the intimate details of absolutely everything about the other females present.

When men get together, they barely talk about anything other than sport, the women they fancy or beer. The most used phrases on a lad’s night out are: “It’s your round” and “I’ll have a pint of bitter.” If a man starts talking about his innermost feelings he is ignored in favour of discussions about changes to the offside rule.

CINEMA AND THE MOVIES

Women will quite happily sit watching a romantic comedy like “An Officer and a Gentleman” or “Dirty Dancing”. They will cry and laugh at the same time. The hero will be a hopeless romantic (barely like any real man) and will sweep the heroine off her feet at the end of the film and ride of with her into the sunset to start the happiest family in the world ever.

Men will go to see an all out action film, starring Sly Stallone, Arnie Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, Hugh Jackman, Tom Cruise (as long as it’s not a romantic movie) or preferably all of them. The movie will be thin on plot but high on explosives and will feature a plethora of gratuitous sex and violence throughout.

GROWING OLD

Women grow moustaches when they grow old.

Men grow boobs.

GETTING MARRIED

When a woman gets married she spends 99% of the time thinking about every aspect of the big day; the dress, the ceremony, the flowers, the meal, the romance of it all.

When a man gets married he thinks about the stag party.

TELEPHONE

When a woman calls another woman on the phone, they will discuss life, the Universe and everything for hours and hours on end.

When a man calls another man on the phone, the conversation goes something like this:

MAN1: What time are you going to the pub?

MAN2: 8 o’clock at the Red Lion.

MAN1: See you there.

SHOES

The average woman owns 351 pairs of shoes.

The average man owns one pair of shoes and a pair of trainers.

FRIENDS

Women will compliment their friends. Sometimes they mean it; sometimes they will compliment even when they are envious and think that their friends have a better outfit.

Men insult their friends constantly. Four men in a pub will call each other names like “Fatso”, “Boghead”, “Squeaky” and “Troll”.

BATHROOMS

Women have 2451 items in the bathroom cabinet. Men do not understand what 2445 of them are.

Men have six items (five if they use an electric razor).

SUCCESS

A successful man is a high earner who makes more money than his wife can spend.

A successful woman is one who can find such a man.

LOVE

A woman wants a knight in shining armour; a man who is full of romance and will carry her off to heaven in a tsunami of flowers, cuddly animals and soft music.

Men just want to have sex.

DIRECTIONS

If a woman is lost, she will stop and ask the nearest person which way to go.

If a man is lost he will drive around for hours, convinced that he is on the right track; he will be oblivious to the fact that he may be driving around in circles: “I didn’t know there were THREE Houses of Parliament in London …”

MOODS

Women have an infinite amount of moods depending on various combinations of external influence. Men understand none of them.

Men have three – horny, hungry and tired.

PERFECT DATE

The perfect date for a woman involves the man treating her like a princess throughout the date. He will be thoughtful, complimentary, chivalrous, romantic and supportive. He will wine her, dine her, listen to her, understand her, be at one with her and be her soulmate. She will be able to confess anything to him and he will be understanding and sympathetic. He will be generous and give her gifts.

The perfect date for a man involves sport, TV, beer, stupidity, games and sex.

GETTING READY

Women take an eon to prepare themselves for a night out, planning the outing meticulously using colour coordination to ensure that every aspect of make-up, perfume and clothing complement each other perfectly to make her the most glamorous princess in the world. This task takes hours and hours and she will change her mind and her clothing often.

Men take five minutes and care more about that first beer than their appearance.

There are many more things I can talk about, and probably will do in future posts. Do you agree with what I’ve said above? I know that most men will do but this post will be seen as controversial to women, and maybe I will be treated as a sexist pig. To be honest, I’m not. I love women and I embrace the differences – it’s what makes them interesting to me.

I still don’t understand them but I am getting there.

Women's Rules For Men

My lack of knowledge and confusion when it comes to the female of the species is a recurrent theme in this blog and I try to make it part of my life to solve the mystery that is womankind. So far I have failed. Not only have I failed, I have failed spectacularly. Not only have I failed spectacularly I have had to endure pain, both physical and mental, as a result.

Perhaps my problems could be solved if there were an evening class to study the female mind. No such luck. The path to understanding females is a rocky one, strewn with traps, pitfalls and dangers. And I am like a short-sighted wanderer, stumbling into every single one of them.

Nevertheless, today I found something that may help me on my quest. I discovered “Rules For Men” but written by a woman. Now I don’t want to be subservient but at least they may give me some idea of how to react under certain situations and maybe a way to win favour.

Here they are – and below are my comments:

The female always makes the rules.

Oh dear! That’s a bad start.

The rules are subject to change at any time without prior notification.

They’re not making it easy are they guys?

No male can possibly ever know the rules.

Talk about making life difficult. Is there any man on the planet who understands women?

If the female suspects that the male knows all the rules, she must immediately change some or all of the rules.

OK, four rules in and I feel like I’m trying to nail jelly to a wall.

The female is never wrong.

So to get a peaceful life I have to reply “You’re right, dear” whenever we have a discussion or argument – is that it?

If the female is wrong, it is because of a flagrant misunderstanding which was a direct result of something the male said wrong or did wrong.

Well thanks for clearing that up then. Basically whatever the problem is, it’s my fault.

If the previous rule applies, the male must apologize immediately for causing the misunderstanding.

I can see “I’m sorry” becoming my most used phrase.

The female can change her mind at any given point in time.

I knew this rule – that’s one of the reasons for my constant confusion.

The male must never change his mind without express written consent from the female.

So much for no subservience …

The female has every right to be angry or upset at any time.

Ah – I can see that I could possibly use this to my advantage. If she’s angry or upset then we may as well do something worthy of that anger. Fancy a pint, lads?

The male must remain calm at all times unless the female wants him to be angry or upset.

I will calmly sip my beer in the pub as she rants and raves at home. She can ring me up if she wants me to be angry in which case I will do so – after I have finished my pint.

The female must under no circumstances let the male know whether or not she wants him to be angry or upset.

OK – no phone call then.

After reading those rules I am still none the wiser. All I have learned is that if Mrs PM is angry and upset because of something I have or haven’t done then I should pop out to the pub. Whether or not she will be even more angry upon my return I don’t know. Perhaps I could try buying flowers – that hasn’t worked in the past though.

One final thought: I know that I am not alone. I know that there are mates of mine who actually think that they understand women but fall foul of their lack of knowledge on a regular basis. Now that this blog is public I am sure that there will be comments but all I can say is that I have proof of their ignorance, with some failures much more spectacular than others.

As for my quest, I am more confused than ever. But fear not – I am determined to carry on. I will learn and I will post my progress.

I must dash now; Mrs PM wants me to nail some jelly to the wall.

The Female Of The Species (Part Two) - Products

I am holding a tiny tube of goo that looks like toothpaste. On the tube it says “Exfoliant Visage Active Face Scrub”. The goo is white and it smells slightly of perfume. Mrs PM gave it to me a few months ago. I remember the conversation we had.

“What is it?” I said.

“A free sample I got when I bought some moisturiser,” she replied. “Take a closer look.”

I spotted two words that sent a shiver of dread through my entire body; “FOR MEN”

The fact that it was a free sample that came with moisturiser told me that it was a “product”; and Mrs PM thinks that it is time that I started using “products”.

At my age? Is she serious?

Thankfully she has forgotten about the tube of goo and it has gathered dust at the back of the bathroom cabinet safely hidden behind the million other “products” owned by Mrs PM. I have not used it yet and I have no intention of doing so. I am risking life and limb to write this post; if Mrs PM comes back and catches me holding the goo she will make me use it.

Anyway, the goo comes with a leaflet that tells me how to use it. I mean COME ON! It’s goo that, presumably, you rub on your face. How do I know? Because the name of the goo has the word “Face” in its description. As for the other words …

“Exfoliating” – I don’t even know what that word means. Hang on – I’ll look it up. Here we go. The verb “exfoliate” means “to remove in flakes or scales; to peel”. So this stuff is used to help me peel layers of skin from my face? And the stuff is described as “Face Scrub”? So does that mean that if I use it I will end up scrubbing layer after layer of flesh from my face? If I sit in the sun for three hours I can burn skin off my face – albeit two days later.

There is obviously some confusion on my part. Thankfully the tube of goo has a user guide for ignorant men like myself (because after all we are all thick aren’t we?). Here’s what it says:

(1) WHY? To give skin a fresh “new” feeling. Double action resurfacing and polishing microspheres lift impurities while Grindelia extract helps restore its natural balance.

What on earth are “polishing microspheres”? I feel like I’m reading the instructions for removing barnacles from the bottom of a boat. And what the hell is “Grindelia”? This is what Wikipedia says:

Grindelia is a genus of plants native to the Americas with bright yellow flowers indigenous to much of the United States. It is commonly called curlycup gumweed.

Curlycup Gumweed? Are they serious????

(2) WHEN? Use once or twice a week for clear healthy-looking skin. For all skin types.

I don’t even know what my skin type is. Pale white and a little wrinkly

(3) HOW? Apply to damp skin, avoiding the eye area. Gently smooth across skin without pulling. Rinse with warm water.

There is no way I would allow “polishing microspheres” to come within a foot of my eyes thank you very much.

Mrs PM’s bathroom cabinet most of our bedroom in fact are full of “products” and contraptions for applying the “products”. There are tweezers, scissors, plastic blobs, huge quantities of cotton wool and tons of makeup. There are bottles of liquids, tubes of gunk and all manner of sponges and even rocks (Yes guys – ROCKS!). Here is a small list of the gunk in our house:

Facial scrub, deep cleansing lotion, some kind of weird rock, shampoo, conditioner, mineral bath, body scrub, revitalising smoothing masque, deep cleansing clay masque, bath soak, baby lotion, eye make-up solvent, alcohol-free toner, body lotion, toning cream, lip balm, complete care day cream, moisture surge treatment, turnaround cream, deodorants (plural!), all-in-one face base, face brush, blush, make-up base, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, various odd sized and shaped sponges, lipsticks (hundreds of them), cream shadow, sun cream, perfume (again hundreds of them), styling mousse, energising body spray, firming cream, bust beauty lotion, hair gel, hair wax, hair spray and a mud mask.

And that's only a partial list!

What's worse is that I can't even begin to tell you what most of these things are actually for. What on earth would you use turnaround cream for? Whenever I think about it my imagination runs amok.

If Mrs PM had her way she would have me using the new “products” that cosmetic companies are trying to shame men into using.

But I don’t want to. I don’t want to exfoliate my face with scrubbing cream. I don’t want to moisturize my crow’s feet with a rock. I don’t want to use turnaround cream or expose my flesh to a moisture surge. I have survived 45 years without them and I plan to do so for the next 45 years, by which time I will no longer care whether my face looks like an explosion in a wrinkle factory.

Anyway, I’d better go and hide this goo before Mrs PM gets back, otherwise I may be posting next time with an exfoliated face, in which case you probably won’t recognise me.