Simply saying that men and women are different is an understatement of gargantuan proportion.  In fact, some have likened our differences to being from separate planets.  This way of thinking makes sense, although I don’t believe men and women really can be classified as existing in the same universe.  I am constantly reminded of this simple fact by my boyfriend on a daily basis.  It’s proof that one little chromosome makes all the difference…  I recently spent the week with him in California to go skiing and celebrate my 28th birthday.  Nick has lived in his new house for a couple of months, and it’s still unfurnished…as in--he has NO furniture (besides a bed, a kitchen table, and several chairs that don’t match--one of which is a desk chair with a wheel missing).  I’m an artsy person, and I love to decorate, so I promised I would lend my expertise and help turn his house into a home.  

      We made a trip to Lowes to spend the $50 gift card his real estate agent gave him.  I was thinking it was enough to purchase a piece of home décor to help begin the transformation.  But of course, as soon as we walked in the door, he gravitated directly to the barbecue grills and fire pits, and his eyes lit up.  Now I’m trying to be helpful, and I don’t want to come across as condescending.  So in the kindest, least-patronizing tone I can muster, I reminded him, “Honey, you don’t even have a couch.  Let’s think priorities.”  And so I suggested a fancy light fixture.  I guess men and women’s definition of “priorities” varies greatly.  Needless to say, we wandered out of the store, gift card still in wallet.

      Whenever I’m in California and he’s at work during the day, I find myself doing the typical household chores.  First of all, I’m bored….second of all, I can’t seem to relax when there’s clutter covering every corner of the (furniture-less) rooms.  One evening, I was getting his dirty clothes out of the laundry basket on the floor of his closet, and I suggested that he get a hamper to put them in.  He responded that he already had one.  I (again, patiently) told him that a laundry basket was not a hamper. “Okay, what’s a hamper then?” he asked me.  I explained that a hamper is a basket that you put laundry in.  He looked at me in utter confusion and said, “This is a laundry basket, but a hamper is a basket you put laundry in?  Isn’t that the same thing?”  I rolled my eyes and left the room, muttering under my breath how you have to be a woman to understand.

      My boyfriend’s brother works as a musician on a cruise ship and is often bringing home trinkets as souvenirs from all over the Caribbean.  He gave Nick an ugly clay pottery mask that he picked up in one of the shops in port.  It looked like something an Indian would wear while performing a ceremonial dance to persuade a stubborn sun to come out.  Don’t get me wrong, the mask is fine sitting on a shelf in some touristy shop full of crap, but NOT in my home.  When Nick asked me what I thought about hanging it on a wall in the living room near the fireplace, I told him I wouldn’t put it there if it were my decision.  “Where would you put it?” he asked.  (Pause) “Outside on the patio,” I remarked.  Well, I guess we’re not on the same page when it comes to our taste in home décor.  This should be interesting.

      Nick is a forest firefighter for the state of California.  Needless to say, he’s very outdoorsy and could care less about fashion.  I, on the other hand, am the ultimate girly-girl and love a good shoe sale.  Another simple fact that men will NEVER understand is why women need more than one pair of black high heels.  Whenever we go shopping and I’m eyeing a pair of cute black, strappy stilettos (which by the way, is a fashion term he recently added to his vocabulary, thanks to me), he often asks, “Don’t you already have a pair of black heels?”  All I can do is ignore him and walk away.  I ask the salesman if I can try on a size 7, knowing that one little chromosome prevents my boyfriend from truly understanding.  I have come to accept this fact and, once men do the same, we’ll be living in a much more peaceful world.

 Cassie Phelps lives and writes in Lewisville.