Male pattern blindness, or the joys of obliviousness. The front lines in the battle between the sexes

20221111

Sometimes a large truth can obscure a small one. And we argue about the smallest things.

Oksana insists that a covered pot boils faster than an uncovered pot. I agree with this small truth.  The larger truth is that you cannot see when the covered pot is boiling. It has to boil over before you know the water is ready.

A second larger truth is that you cannot drink boiling water. I heat water until it’s hot enough. I put my finger in to feel it.

This morning her mother was boiling water on the butane stove. I wanted some as well. Her water seem to be taking forever, so I went over and lifted the lid. Sure enough, it was already boiling. I pointed the fact out and I took just a little bit to heat my own cup of water.

Oksana excoriated me for making her mother nervous by doing things my own way. She is a flibbertigibbet, inclined to get upset over small things. My position is that if I am going to be held hostage to women’s nervousness I would never get anything done. The fact is her water was boiling. Take it off the stove so I can boil my own.

I innocently suggested that this could be the subject of an experiment. We had all the equipment to measure the volume of water, amount of gas burned, and amount of time it took. We should measure how long it took me to get water hot enough to drink in an open pot and compare it to how long it took to bring water to the point you could observe it boiling in a closed pot.

The innocence was of course totally feigned. This is not whatsoever a question of science, but psychology. She looked at me as if I were speaking Martian and instructed me not to make her mother nervous. I retreat behind male pattern blindness, pretending not to understand.

Last night we went through a junior version of the same. Oksana packed Zoriana’s dinner for her to eat on the bus as we went to her music lesson. It included bread, cheese, and half a pear.  She didn’t want to pear and gave it to me. It was delicious.

She quite predictably complained she was hungry and wanted more to eat. I gave in and bought a $1.50 marzipan candy bar, of which she got more than half, to eat on the walk from the bus to the lesson.

Coming home she wanted something salty. That would be chips or peanuts. She kept saying “something salty” over and over and tugging at my sleeve. After I said no, the candy bar had been more than enough, she persisted. After about five times I simply stopped talking and kept walking. This litany went on for about 10 minutes. She clutched my sleeve, and I pushed her hands away to indicate that I had heard enough. It was half a mile before she went quiet.

We walked in silence until I asked, at the railroad crossing, whether she wanted to walk down the 20th St. or the 21st. She had an opinion on that – the 21st – and conversation resumed as if it had never stopped.

I don’t think I am being sexist to observe that this behavior is more characteristic of little girls and little boys.

At Oksana’s urging, this morning I took Marianna with me as I took Zoriana to kindergarten. She likes to get out of the house and she to ride the bus. She usually enjoys the two thirds of a mile walk back home on my shoulders. This morning, however, she complained that she wanted to get down. We walked half a block hand-in-hand, at which point she wanted to do anything but keep walking. Dawdle, play in the mud puddles, chase the cats and so on. She struggled when I held her hand and attempted to keep her pointed toward home. When the struggle got to be too much, I put her back on my shoulders so we could keep going.

We did this three times before she finally concluded that she was going to get home whether on my shoulders or by walking, and stopped struggling. The last half of the way was fairly peaceful. Though I don’t have enough data to say with any conviction, it seems to me that a little boy would have been more strong-minded. He would have put up more of a fight than she did. When I insist that my way is the way things are going to be, the girls will eventually acquiesce.

Eddie loves to make sushi. We had it two nights in a row. He bicycled to the store to buy all the ingredients, and spent half an hour sharpening knives to make sure they were just right. He is obsessed with the knives. This, of course, is a guy thing. He doesn’t have the size or dexterity to have mastered the motions. The fact is I have never mastered them myself – my father was infinitely better than I am. I am glad to see Eddie practicing, and I will be pleased when he exceeds me.

Another Eddie story. A power connection is vulnerable at the point where the flexible cord joins the inflexible jack that plugs into the computer. The wire to the power supply for my 11-year-old Dell finally broke. Eddie wanted to take it apart and solder it.

I argued that that would be unreliable even if it worked, which it probably would not. I took the power cord to the computer repair shop where they told me the same thing. We ordered a replacement cord and power supply for 1700 Hryvnia – a bit over $150. The computer would not be worth that much were we to sell it, but it is worth it to us as the device Eddie uses for his dictation and the kids used to watch movies.

Eddie and I disagreed, but the parameters of our disagreement were totally within the male realm. Fix versus replace, reliability, and cost. I admire his parsimonious instinct even if I overrule him from time to time.

Ogden Nash wrote “marriage is the only known example of the happy meeting of the immovable object and the irresistible force.” Broaden that to the male and female members of a family.

That’s the news from Lake WeBeGone, the front line in the battle of the sexes, where the good-looking woman, the strong man and the above average children went to bed last night, like we do every night, with hugs all around.

Graham