I'm not one for gender generalizations. I don't think much of our behavior is actually hard-wired biologically. There are exceptions, though. Research shows us that men are more visually attuned, and anecdotal evidence of that abounds. I'm personally fascinated, too, by how just-injured kids seem to seek out their mother, no matter who was the primary care-giver. For that matter, when I'm around a pregnant woman, I could swear that some super-protective hormone kicks in, a hormone that makes every driver look drunk and every passer-by look like a felon. But all that pales compared to one immutable law of nature.
Sick men are big, fat babies.
What is it about having achy joints and a stuffy nose that makes men want, nay, crave a woman's pity? Any woman will do. You know women—those people who could put a tourniquet on their thigh and hacksaw off their own gangrenous leg without whining? Yeah, them. I want their pity. It's pretty much all I've thought about for the last 24 hours of cold and flu season. Did our mothers do this to us? My own mother was far from nurturing—if I heard the "you are the stupidest kid on the face of the Earth" speech en route to the emergency room once, I heard it a thousand times—so I know that's not it with me. Which brings us back to biology.
I have sniffles. Pony up the pity.
Allie: "Hello?"
Me: "I'm sick."
Allie (rotely, sighing): "No one in all of human history has suffered as much as you are, right now, nor bore the burden as bravely."
Me: "Thank you."
(click)
International readers: I'm interested in whether this is true in your cultures, too. Email me (top right).