The female mind runs on as many tracks as Chicago Central Station, the male mind more like the dual one from London to Birmingham, the northbound one dealing with all the general stuff of life; the other one, sex.
I was mulling over this concept while playing tennis, fully aware (on track 2) that my male partner would be totally focused on his game, except for once every 7 minutes, if the rumour is to be believed. Returning to track 3 (the game itself) I discovered that we were behind.
“We need to win the next four games without fail,” stated Adam, terse tone clearly indicating that he felt there was a negative weight pulling situation on my bit of the court.
“If we do, will you buy me a glass of wine?”
Deal done, mind relocated (yes, I was the weakest link) we won our four games, a mental sniff of Chablis focusing the mind as efficiently and rapidly as drinking it unfocused me later.
Another biological disparity is body hair. Women depilate in a neat and discreet fashion. When my male gets mowed, it’s more like sheering sheep, although with less baaaing and more irritated grunts. Excessively long body hair is very ageing, so I kindly rejuvenate my male periodically. But unless you are in a bathroom with a tiled floor, it is impossible to remove all the bits of fur, which on a pink carpet looks like prickly pigskin. Fed up of this, I go shopping.
“May I help you, madam?”
“Yes, please. I’d like to buy a pubic hair coloured carpet.”
“Certainly. Would you care for mole or a darker shade of Rasputin? We do a very nice one with a tasteful grey fleck in it.”
“You being ageist?”
“Mole, I think. Are they easy to hoover?”
“Yes, other than the shag pile which is more comfortable underfoot, but the hair does tend to get in between the fibres.”
“So that over time the carpet will get thicker?”
“Yes, but we do a very good line in carpet trimmers.”
“Understood. Where’s the nearest tile shop?”
I know exactly what you’re thinking. The women are simultaneously contemplating the difficulties of hoovering shagpile, deliberating whether a carpet trimmer is a good idea, debating whether floor tiles would be a better option, deciding when they need to trim their man next and mulling over the last strange conversation they had with a salesperson. Meanwhile the men read the word shag and are now on track 2, heading due south.
Alison Gardiner 2013