MEN are from Mars, and Women are from Venus — that’s the title of a book by John Gray — about the eponymous metaphor describing the men’s and women’s psychological differences.

For the life of me, I still don’t understand the psychological profiles of the woman I have been living with for the last four decades.

Just for example.

When my only daughter was barely 12 years old my wife instructed me to buy something for our little princess.

Remember it was the 80s and there were no smartphones, and people like me always relied on the pay phones to call home.

It’s just a quarter for three minutes call time.

“Sweetheart, where are you now?” my beautiful wife greeted me.

“Oh, I am at Alexander’s Department Store,” I answered.

“Oh, perfect.”

“Why?” I asked her back.

“Well, our daughter needs a training bra. Could you look around there for one?”

“Excuse me, will you say that again. It’s too much noisy here.”

“I said bra,” she barked at the speaker.

My right ear’s eardrum probably had been ruptured by her 60-decibel pitch.

“Dummy you, listen to me,” she was already screaming, “I said training bra, the one used by females around their chest.”

“Oh, I see,” scratching my head in disbelief, then I continued, “but all I see are just two dimples on her front. Why would she need a bra?”

“Just buy what I told you,” then she abruptly hanged up the phone on the receiver.

If I knew my wife, I knew I would be in trouble at home if I don’t buy the stuff.

Suddenly, I was thrust into a bra monologue while I was contemplating what to do.

If you are Dolly Parton, you certainly need one.

But why would a 12-year-old girl need one?

I was perplexed.

I was wondering in my quiet soliloquy what is there to be trained.

Am sure a lot of fathers were in the same quandary as I was.

Will it make them grow faster and bigger?

I really don’t know.

After gathering enough courage, I walked over to where there were many displays of women’s lingerie.

“Excuse me, Miss,” I stopped at a lady who seemed to be too pre-occupied re-arranging the clothes by the hangers.

She stopped momentarily and faced me eye to eye.

I found myself quickly enamored by her cheerful personality.

“Yes, how can I help you?”

With a bit of embarrassment, I haltingly asked her, “Do you have bras?”

“Say that again.”

Now she was looking at me menacingly for being too “fresh” with my questioning.

I re-phrased my question.

“What I mean ma’am is — if you have bras for little girls. My wife asked me to buy some training bras.”

The lady laughed, quite relieved.

“Oh, I see, come with me.”

When I came home that day, I felt like a dutiful husband, proudly displaying the goodies to my charming wife and to my confused little girl not knowing yet what to do with the little strap.

When I told this story to my office mates, the women were laughing.

“Oh, I hate those ones when I was a little girl,” said one lady, “the boys would come after us girls, pulled the garters and snapped them hard like slingshots. We got welts in our backs. It’s so painful.”

A young gentleman also joined us in the conversation.

“You won’t believe what my wife just asked me now,” he said.

“What?” we all chimed in unison.

“She told me to buy feminine pads, but they should be the ones with wings.”

“What in the world is that? Pads with wings? Why, do they ever fly?”

“I will be embarrassed to buy that thing,” he retorted in exasperation.

The book Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus is a paradigm that delineates the opposite sexes.

In a lot of ways, women are changing through the years.

This was explained to me by a friend who was with us in the New Orleans vacation last year.

“You know, Pare, I feel my body is changing from the many hormonal changes within me. Now I found myself easily irritated and even annoyed by little things. But in reality, I didn’t mean to. And in those situations, I felt bad.”

Most of us look at life differently — and this book was more about inter-personal communications to improve the relationships.  

Psychology aside, my friend’s explanation about the changes in a woman’s norms due to hormonal changes is more plausible to me.

So now when I look at my wife — and knowing that she is from Venus, the brightest star in the galaxy — I am more appreciative of the things she did and is still doing to the family, hormones or not.

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