As someone who writes about hooking up and casual sex, I think a lot about the innate differences between women and men. While there is no doubt in my mind that we’re extremely different psychologically, it’s a topic that frequently stirs controversy. Women in the media are especially prone to getting their Hanky Pankies in a twist when anyone suggests that the sexes have divergent interests and goals in life.
Every so often, though, I witness something in a moment of clarity that drives home the point with conviction. Today was such a day. We’ve had a rather snowy winter in New England so far. This morning we woke up prepared for a lazy snow day. After a leisurely reading of the Sunday papers and three cups of coffee, we ventured outside to shovel the drive and walks.
We own a snowblower, an essential tool for our corner lot. It easily handles the driveway and several hundred feet of sidewalk. However, the front and back walks are up some stairs, and those must be shoveled by hand. Every time we go out to perform this winter ritual, the division of labor is clear (and always has been). The penis operates the snowblower, vajayjay gets the shovel. There is never an exception to this rule. Whether it is my husband or my son home from college, the large machine requires a man to tame it.
Never mind that considerably more physical exertion is required for the shoveling. Operating the snowblower is a piece of cake by comparison. When we’re through, we head inside and strip off our down coats. I am the sweatiest person by far. I am soaked through and exhausted, while my husband exhibits pep and a rosy glow. I don’t mind that I work much harder than he does—I view the shoveling as a good workout on a day I can’t get to the gym. But I think it’s interesting that no thoughts of chivalry intrude upon his satisfaction with a job well done. The beast has been tamed, and he is the alpha male that triumphed.