I am but another middle-aged woman with shrinking ovaries bumbling my way through life, figuring it out as I sashay down the cobblestoned pathway before me. Thankfully, along the way I have discovered that wisdom does indeed come with age. And though I still have much to learn, there are a couple topics of which I have researched extensively and consider myself to be somewhat of an authority. One is chocolate. The other is boys. (By the way, it’s nothing but a coincidence that they both have nuts.)
My love for chocolate – even nutless chocolate - needs no explanation. So let’s talk boys…
[PLEASE NOTE: When I say ‘boys’, I am referring to ALL boys…old and young, big and small, hairy or bald. Because for the most part, they are basically the same with just different heads. Few of them ever really grow up.]
As a female who has spent the majority of her life surrounded by more testosterone than a Texas bull breeder, I am here to tell you:
BOYS ARE DIFFERENT THAN GIRLS.
Gender neutrality be danged - it is the truth. And while the differences between ‘us and them’ are many and mighty, I would like to offer up just a few personal observations. Offered of course, with love and celebration (and no small measure of bafflement) regarding those noble carriers of the Y chromosome.
BOYS ARE NOT AS CLEAN AS GIRLS.
Makes sense if you think about it. Males - as Hunters and Gatherers - were genetically designed to survive life in the wild. Though it worked well for Tarzan, it can be a bit problematic for a Mom whose biggest job in life is to morph a wildass manchild into a socially acceptable human being. The nastiness begins early on, and manifests itself in their stinky bedrooms. A small boy’s bedroom smells a lot like wet puppy dogs and rotting goldfish. As they grow older, the smell ripens into something resembling moldy bean burritos and petrified cheese balls, with a heavy dose of smartass thrown in. Perhaps their nastiest habit of all is the vast amount of time they spend scratching themselves and adjusting their crotches. (Which is important to keep in mind whenever they ask to share your potato chips.)
If you leave little boys with big, supposedly responsible boys...when you return home you will find all of them laying around in their underwear, scratching themselves while watching Season 2 of Swamp People and sharing a bag of potato chips. And regardless of their laundry skills, they’ve likely been wearing those same underwear for days. Many days. Turns out, boys do not consider their underwear to be dirty until they have been worn frontwards, backwards, right side out, inside out and upside down.
I know it’s discouraging, but there is hope. If you start when they are very young, they are somewhat trainable. For example, they can be taught to lower toilet seats, refrain from eating boogers, and to never ever fart in an unairconditioned car. Ultimately, it’s an exercise in futility to even hope to exact lasting change on the male of the species. Unless of course, he is wearing a diaper.
BOYS ARE LESS CONCERNED ABOUT APPEARANCES THAN GIRLS.
With the exception of weird male outliers like David Hasselhoff…most boys hate to dress up, care little about fashion trends and believe that wearing plaid instead of a gray t-shirt is a fashion statement. One of my brothers, who shall remain nameless (but whose name rhymes with ‘belly’) has owned only one dress jacket his entire adult life. He lovingly refers to it as his Funeral Jacket. The pockets bulge with memorial cards from every single funeral he has attended over the past 15 years.
Then, there are shoes. Boys only need three pairs of shoes: athletic, dress and casual. Actually, two pair will do, as athletic and casual often serve the same purpose. In their favor, guys never lose sleep wondering what shoes might go best with their new salmon-colored shirt. A moot point, because most guys are a bit color blind. Or even if they see colors perfectly well, they will never be able to pick 'Salmon' out of a box of Crayolas. Ecru either, for that matter.
Also in their favor, boys are much more secure about their bodies than we are. And much more sane. They would never subject themselves to a Brazilian wax or walk about in 4-inch heels or shoot themselves up with Botox.
BOYS WANT TO BE OUR HEROES.
In their heart of hearts, all boys wish they could fly like Superman. They love Superheroes and spend their entire lives working on their unique secret power. A guy never feels more manly than when a helpless female brings them a jar to open. Somehow, in their minds, opening our jars is equivalent to us pushing out 8 pounds of baby for them.
They want to be needed. They need to protect, and are always on guard for things that go bump in the night...or even crickets that go chirping in the night. There's not a cricket on the planet that doesn’t quake at the name of Dickman – The Mighty Cricket Hunter. The Dickman once engaged a cricket in a 45 minute hand-to-hand combat. Seriously...for 45 minutes, in the middle of a moonless night, using his son's radar gun for a flashlight, my nekkid husband fought a duel with a defenseless cricket hiding in the bottom of my closet full of shoes. That’s an image that will forever be engraved upon my mind.
BOYS LIVE IN FEAR OF KRYPTONITE.
Grown-up boys will never ask for directions. Admitting they could be in any way directionally challenged is a sign of weakness punishable by possible revocation of the Man Card. Moreover, any car trip involving a male driver – excluding funeral processions - will immediately turn into a potential NASCAR audition. The clock starts ticking after leaving city limits with nothing less than national speed records at stake. I have experienced being the only female traveling in a car full of boys who were in such a race against the clock that they limited my bathroom breaks to towns that began with the letter ‘P’. Of course I was agreeable to the plan. I only peed in Plubbock, Post and Psnyder on the way to Pabilene.
BOYS LOVE TO FIX STUFF.
Although they act all bothered, they really like it when we break stuff around the house because it gives them a chance to show off their ‘fix-it’ skills. Preferably using only duct tape and/or WD-40.
BOYS ARE GOOD WITH REMOTES, BUT NOT SO GOOD WITH WORDS.
I read somewhere that women use around 20,000 words each day, compared to men’s use of only 7,000 words per day. Their word shortage makes it even more important to be succinct when they verbalize their innermost thoughts. Thoughts such as: What’s for dinner? Where’s my glasses?
There are three occasions in which the male species is rendered virtually deaf:
1) when watching anything involving a ball on TV;
2) the first 20 minutes after coming home from work; and
3) when they hear the dreaded words: We.Need.To.Talk.
They are marginally capable of communicating while playing video games, but it will be your fault if they lose. And just so you know, they really don’t want us playing video games with them. In actuality, they are playing the video game to escape from us.
It goes without saying that they must maintain control of the remote at all times. Which is fine. It’s really such a small concession for us to make, when they have control of so little.
Face it girls, with the combination of fewer words and almost no intuition...they will never be able to read our minds. Furthermore, any correlation between what you meant and what he understood? Purely coincidental.
BIG BOYS DO CRY.
In reality, boys are by and large much more sensitive than they will ever admit. Their feelings can be hurt. Their hair-covered muscled exteriors protect a mushy inner core of vulnerability. Boys of any size can be brought to their knees with nothing more than a simple, heart-felt compliment. Even superheroes need compliments.
BOYS…they are loud. They are messy. They are strange. They love weird stuff like dinosaurs, beef jerky, barbeque tools, fart jokes, flashlights, graphic equalizers, peeing in the snow, and crushing soda cans on their foreheads. They test the limits. They will melt your heart one minute and will shatter it in the next. But without a doubt they are God’s most wondrous creations.
My life has been blessed beyond expression to be surrounded by an abundance of handsome princes. Although I’ve learned to fake an interest in bug guts and a fascination with car parts, I’ve never had to fake my adoration for those funny, charming male creatures. I love them, each and every one...from the old balding ones who’ve still got a twinkle in their eye and a spring in their step...to the handsome hunky ones...the little guys with pockets full of treasures...all the way down to the tiny, sweet-smelling new ones bundled in a blanket of blue…
My love for chocolate – even nutless chocolate - needs no explanation. So let’s talk boys…
[PLEASE NOTE: When I say ‘boys’, I am referring to ALL boys…old and young, big and small, hairy or bald. Because for the most part, they are basically the same with just different heads. Few of them ever really grow up.]
As a female who has spent the majority of her life surrounded by more testosterone than a Texas bull breeder, I am here to tell you:
BOYS ARE DIFFERENT THAN GIRLS.
Gender neutrality be danged - it is the truth. And while the differences between ‘us and them’ are many and mighty, I would like to offer up just a few personal observations. Offered of course, with love and celebration (and no small measure of bafflement) regarding those noble carriers of the Y chromosome.
BOYS ARE NOT AS CLEAN AS GIRLS.
Makes sense if you think about it. Males - as Hunters and Gatherers - were genetically designed to survive life in the wild. Though it worked well for Tarzan, it can be a bit problematic for a Mom whose biggest job in life is to morph a wildass manchild into a socially acceptable human being. The nastiness begins early on, and manifests itself in their stinky bedrooms. A small boy’s bedroom smells a lot like wet puppy dogs and rotting goldfish. As they grow older, the smell ripens into something resembling moldy bean burritos and petrified cheese balls, with a heavy dose of smartass thrown in. Perhaps their nastiest habit of all is the vast amount of time they spend scratching themselves and adjusting their crotches. (Which is important to keep in mind whenever they ask to share your potato chips.)
If you leave little boys with big, supposedly responsible boys...when you return home you will find all of them laying around in their underwear, scratching themselves while watching Season 2 of Swamp People and sharing a bag of potato chips. And regardless of their laundry skills, they’ve likely been wearing those same underwear for days. Many days. Turns out, boys do not consider their underwear to be dirty until they have been worn frontwards, backwards, right side out, inside out and upside down.
I know it’s discouraging, but there is hope. If you start when they are very young, they are somewhat trainable. For example, they can be taught to lower toilet seats, refrain from eating boogers, and to never ever fart in an unairconditioned car. Ultimately, it’s an exercise in futility to even hope to exact lasting change on the male of the species. Unless of course, he is wearing a diaper.
BOYS ARE LESS CONCERNED ABOUT APPEARANCES THAN GIRLS.
With the exception of weird male outliers like David Hasselhoff…most boys hate to dress up, care little about fashion trends and believe that wearing plaid instead of a gray t-shirt is a fashion statement. One of my brothers, who shall remain nameless (but whose name rhymes with ‘belly’) has owned only one dress jacket his entire adult life. He lovingly refers to it as his Funeral Jacket. The pockets bulge with memorial cards from every single funeral he has attended over the past 15 years.
Then, there are shoes. Boys only need three pairs of shoes: athletic, dress and casual. Actually, two pair will do, as athletic and casual often serve the same purpose. In their favor, guys never lose sleep wondering what shoes might go best with their new salmon-colored shirt. A moot point, because most guys are a bit color blind. Or even if they see colors perfectly well, they will never be able to pick 'Salmon' out of a box of Crayolas. Ecru either, for that matter.
Also in their favor, boys are much more secure about their bodies than we are. And much more sane. They would never subject themselves to a Brazilian wax or walk about in 4-inch heels or shoot themselves up with Botox.
BOYS WANT TO BE OUR HEROES.
In their heart of hearts, all boys wish they could fly like Superman. They love Superheroes and spend their entire lives working on their unique secret power. A guy never feels more manly than when a helpless female brings them a jar to open. Somehow, in their minds, opening our jars is equivalent to us pushing out 8 pounds of baby for them.
They want to be needed. They need to protect, and are always on guard for things that go bump in the night...or even crickets that go chirping in the night. There's not a cricket on the planet that doesn’t quake at the name of Dickman – The Mighty Cricket Hunter. The Dickman once engaged a cricket in a 45 minute hand-to-hand combat. Seriously...for 45 minutes, in the middle of a moonless night, using his son's radar gun for a flashlight, my nekkid husband fought a duel with a defenseless cricket hiding in the bottom of my closet full of shoes. That’s an image that will forever be engraved upon my mind.
BOYS LIVE IN FEAR OF KRYPTONITE.
Grown-up boys will never ask for directions. Admitting they could be in any way directionally challenged is a sign of weakness punishable by possible revocation of the Man Card. Moreover, any car trip involving a male driver – excluding funeral processions - will immediately turn into a potential NASCAR audition. The clock starts ticking after leaving city limits with nothing less than national speed records at stake. I have experienced being the only female traveling in a car full of boys who were in such a race against the clock that they limited my bathroom breaks to towns that began with the letter ‘P’. Of course I was agreeable to the plan. I only peed in Plubbock, Post and Psnyder on the way to Pabilene.
BOYS LOVE TO FIX STUFF.
Although they act all bothered, they really like it when we break stuff around the house because it gives them a chance to show off their ‘fix-it’ skills. Preferably using only duct tape and/or WD-40.
BOYS ARE GOOD WITH REMOTES, BUT NOT SO GOOD WITH WORDS.
I read somewhere that women use around 20,000 words each day, compared to men’s use of only 7,000 words per day. Their word shortage makes it even more important to be succinct when they verbalize their innermost thoughts. Thoughts such as: What’s for dinner? Where’s my glasses?
There are three occasions in which the male species is rendered virtually deaf:
1) when watching anything involving a ball on TV;
2) the first 20 minutes after coming home from work; and
3) when they hear the dreaded words: We.Need.To.Talk.
They are marginally capable of communicating while playing video games, but it will be your fault if they lose. And just so you know, they really don’t want us playing video games with them. In actuality, they are playing the video game to escape from us.
It goes without saying that they must maintain control of the remote at all times. Which is fine. It’s really such a small concession for us to make, when they have control of so little.
Face it girls, with the combination of fewer words and almost no intuition...they will never be able to read our minds. Furthermore, any correlation between what you meant and what he understood? Purely coincidental.
BIG BOYS DO CRY.
In reality, boys are by and large much more sensitive than they will ever admit. Their feelings can be hurt. Their hair-covered muscled exteriors protect a mushy inner core of vulnerability. Boys of any size can be brought to their knees with nothing more than a simple, heart-felt compliment. Even superheroes need compliments.
BOYS…they are loud. They are messy. They are strange. They love weird stuff like dinosaurs, beef jerky, barbeque tools, fart jokes, flashlights, graphic equalizers, peeing in the snow, and crushing soda cans on their foreheads. They test the limits. They will melt your heart one minute and will shatter it in the next. But without a doubt they are God’s most wondrous creations.
My life has been blessed beyond expression to be surrounded by an abundance of handsome princes. Although I’ve learned to fake an interest in bug guts and a fascination with car parts, I’ve never had to fake my adoration for those funny, charming male creatures. I love them, each and every one...from the old balding ones who’ve still got a twinkle in their eye and a spring in their step...to the handsome hunky ones...the little guys with pockets full of treasures...all the way down to the tiny, sweet-smelling new ones bundled in a blanket of blue…
Welcome to the family, baby Max.Looks like your brother Mason has discovered that it’s much more fun to be a big brother than a superhero ♥
"A boy is the only thing that God can use to make a man."
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