BODY LANGUAGE
Merle Colborne
The difference between men and women is all in the way they approach things. A man will generally approach a thing (other than a woman or an intersection) with great reluctance, very slowly. A woman’s approach is swifter. She’ll look at the situation, access what needs to be done and then quickly see how much she can put into it. He, on the other hand, will take a leisurely look and then slowly consider how much he can get out of it.
A woman will generally try and do something the most cost-effective way; a man will do something the most kudos-effective way. She will want to get it done properly, he will want to get it signed properly in great swooping letters with a plati-num pen and the cameras rolling. The reason there are more Mister Mayors than Madame Mayors is that women couldn’t be bothered waddling around in a gold chain and Guccis, cutting ribbons and pulling little cords on velvet curtains and things when there is real work to be done. And however much they may protest, men seldom went to war for a noble cause; they went to war for something far more important those little scraps of coloured material they could get pinned to their chests.
The same kind of modest masculine approach can be seen in the way men tackle the traditional female tasks of sewing and cooking.
A male couturier will use 25m of satin chiffon, seven cartridges of staples and a skinny model to make an impact, a woman will use a remnant and a pattern to make a wearable garment that can be thrown in the washing machine. The reason male chefs became renowned was because in the olden days when people made sauces instead of picking them up from the supermarket, women used margarine, milk and patience, while men used butter, cream and every utensil in the kitchen.
Women do things because they need to be done, men do things because they need to be praised, score points, feel good about themselves. A woman will seldom say “I cooked a meal for you” though in fact she probably did. A man will frequently say things like “I swept the leaves for you”, “I filled the car for you”. (An increasingly rare event.) He’ll mow the lawn “for you”, pay the electricity bill “for you”, he’ll even walk the dog “for you”.
Leave a man on his own for a week and despite a few mandatory grunts he’ll be happy as a pig in shit. On the premise that he’ll be getting back into it in a few hours time, a man will seldom go to all the immense trouble of making the bed a highly complicated task involving running the flat of the hand along the bottom sheet (which has now been precision made with elasticised corners to stay snugly fitted to the mattress) and shaking out the duck down duvet. (I think the words “duck down” confuse him.)
He won’t do the washing up. Not that there’ll be much. After all what’s the point of washing a thing he’s about to use again. He’ll drink out of the same drip-stained mug for a week.
He’ll eat straight out of the box, packet or can. If he needs a plate he’ll use the work-surface it’s so easy just to wipe off the excess salt and tomato sauce. And why should he bother emptying the rubbish when she’s not there to empty it for.
He’ll get undressed firemen style leaving his trousers in a couple of collapsed circles on the floor ready to thread his feet through in double quick time in the morning. That’s after he has found his underpants which he kicked over his head the night before to give them an airing. He won’t need to do laundry because just as babies used to come with three dozen cotton nappies men now come with 36 T-shirts.
If the bathroom needs cleaning a woman will roll up her sleeves and try to make an impression on the dirt, men’s only concern is how to make an impression on the world. They’re given to making the occasional flamboyant gesture like taking the unusual step of removing the little cardboard tube from the holder and replacing it with a new toilet roll. Because it’s something they so seldom do men get a great sense of accomplishment out of changing a toilet roll, a light bulb and most glorious of all a nappy, so long as it’s nothing more than a Number One of course.
Men are so proud of all they do for women that they’ve even written songs about it, like Everything I do, I do it for you. That “everything” no doubt includes picking his wet towel off the floor, putting his socks in the laundry bag, shaving his face and applying deodorant to his armpits. Men are kept so busy doing things for women it’s no wonder they don’t have any time to do things for themselves, poor things.