Isn't That Cute?

I observed a conversation the other day between a man and a woman. Actually, she was talking and he was listening. Come to think of it, he was pretending to listen. I'm a man, and I can always tell when one of my brothers of the species is pulling the old clenched-jaw, glazed-eye stare while reviewing highlights of last week's football game in his head. She made the fatal mistake of saying to him, "Look, I just got pictures of my little dog! Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen?" See, ladies, unless we are rabid dog enthusiasts, we couldn't care less about your little dogs, and even those men who are fans of dogs certainly aren't going to give a damn about your little rat-dog.

We're men. We HATE "cute".

"Cute," to us, is reserved for women's backsides or sardonic responses to idiot co-workers changing the letters on our computer keyboards. As men, we are conditioned to capture, kill, and eat "cute". See that little deer over there? The fairer sex may give that ever-annoying cry of "awwwwwww" while men are thinking what we were created to think: "Mmmm, venison".

It was funny watching that conversation because I could see him casting his eyes about for someone - anyone - to rescue him from a painful encounter. Panic can set in if you don't have the wherewithall to drift off into football scores, fantasy duels with fire-breathing dragons, or sex with super models. Often, a guy will have the following thoughts going through his head in such a situation:

"She must be on the Olympic Talking Team"
"I wonder what she looks like naked."
"Do I have to poop or just fart?"

We speak different versions of the same language. For example, women may actually refer to a certain room of a house as a parlor. For men, it's a living room. And in that parlor, there may be a sofa. Men don't own sofas. We own a couch. And on that sofa, a woman might enjoy a cocktail - while we drink booze. Women might bawl during an AT&T commercial while we reserve the right to get slightly misty at the end of Field of Dreams.

This is nothing new. The history of differences between men and women is as old as the divvying up of fig leaves in Eden. Both genders have survived this long so I guess something works. Don't get me wrong, there are men who just "adore" kittens, shopping, and gossip and there are women who are rabid sports fanatics, love movies with explosions, and are addicted to pornography. However, in general, a woman should not be surprised when she wants to show you dozens of pictures of her puppy's first bath and you recoil in horror. Would she be as enthusiastic about sudden-death overtime?

That's a mistake we both make. We figure that if WE find it interesting then others should find it interesting. We look at women as if they should respond as men do and vice versa. Women aren't bitchy - they're just women acting like women have always acted. Men are not immature - we're just acting like men have always acted. Who is to say men are immature? Women? That is beyond ridiculous and just plain stupid. Women are bitches? According to whom? Men? Who are we to say when women "act like men" they are bitches? We both have gender-bashing blood on our hands and we are both equally guilty.

However, we should not deride our differences, in fact, we should celebrate them. That certainly doesn't mean we can't cross over to the other side and indulge in what the opposite sex typically enjoys. Just let the other person voluntarily cross that bridge and don't try to drag him or her by their hair to your side. The next time I am cornered with a girl wanting to show me pictures of her stupid little dog and ask "isn't that cute?," I'll dig out an old Bob Gibson baseball card and ask her, "Look, in 1968, wouldn't you say Gibson's ERA was one of the modern era's most impressive pitching records?" It might bring the conversation to a thankfully brief halt.

Then, while watching her walk away, I can lower my gaze slightly and say, "yep, that sure is cute."