According to Wikipedia, “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus (1992) is a book written by American author and relationship counselor John Gray. The book states that most common relationship problems between men and women are a result of fundamental psychological differences between the sexes, which the author exemplifies by means of its eponymous metaphor: that men and women are from distinct planets—men from Mars and women from Venus—and that each sex is acclimated to its own planet's society and customs, but not to those of the other.”
Yes, we have our differences, but it’s my contention that our mothers were all beamed down from different planets and that’s why we’re so different.
I was raised in a germophobic environment. I don’t know if that was a post World War II thing, or a Jewish mother thing. All I do know is that once my parents purchased their first and only home, we had a room that may as well have been roped off like they do in museums.
We weren’t allowed to sit on the furniture, and to make double sure that the furniture would always remain “preserved,” it was hermetically sealed in clear plastic. Over time, in another dwelling, my mother relaxed the “You sit on it, you die on it” edict, and we were allowed to sit on the plastic enclosed couch and chairs in our living room. What a treat, especially in summer when our skin stuck to the plastic – and we created the cacophony of sounds that were produced by bare flesh sliding across the heavy plastic furniture condoms.
In our house, there was no “5 second rule,” and if you dropped a cookie on the floor and the dog didn’t get it, it went into the trash.
We weren’t allowed to leave the house if our clothes had stains on them, or torn. It simply wasn’t done. We were often required to remove our shoes upon entry into the house.
Now contrast that with my wife, who I frequently describe as “feral.” At times I ask her if she was raised by wolves? She gleefully eats food that falls on the floor, and when it comes to germs, other than Covid, she’s fearless. She lets our dog Stormie kiss her on the mouth. Stains and tears in garments don’t necessarily cause her to be homebound like I am. The thing that really freaks me out is when she puts her shoes on the kitchen table. For me, that’s the stuff of nightmares.
It’s only recently that I have started to go out of the house wearing a “schmatta,” (Yiddish for rag). It’s because in my old age, as I have written about before, I have become invisible.
There’s another significant difference between my wife and I. It’s related to the “Butterfly Effect.” According to Time Quiver, “it’s not just a movie starring Ashton Kutcher, but “a real scientific theory that suggests small changes have big consequences.” In fact, some even believe it could impact time travel and change the course of history as we know it.”
Time Quiver suggests contemplating this: “A butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil, causing a small gust of wind. That gust of wind eventually travels across the ocean and leads to a tornado in Texas. This is the essence of the butterfly effect - tiny actions can set off a chain reaction with far-reaching effects. But how does this relate to time travel? Well, imagine going back in time and accidentally stepping on a bug. That seemingly insignificant act could alter the course of history, leading to major changes in present day.”
I have seen evidence of the validity of the “Butterfly Effect” in my own house. Let’s start with our dog. For years I woke up between 4 and 5 AM, while my wife was able to sleep until 8 to 9 AM.
When I would get out of bed, I would go into the dining room where we keep the dog food bin, feed Stormie, and remove the insert in the dog door. Stormie would go outside and do her business, and upon her return I would reward Stormie with a treat.
I might mention that Stormie had always been quirky about going outside. It wasn’t a problem while our other dog Tango was alive. He was like the “lead horse” and he always went outside after being fed, and Stormie would follow him.
However, he’s gone now, and Stormie doesn’t always want to go outside right after eating. This is a concern for us for obvious reasons.
After Tango died, I was finally able to get Stormie into a regular routine. Eat, Go outside and pee and/or poop, return to the house, get rewarded.
After years of my wife sleeping hours past this ritual, she started waking up before I do. One day I fed Stormie and she suddenly appeared in the kitchen/dining area, and Stormie didn’t know what to make of it. She got confused and wouldn’t go outside. Then when she did go outside, she didn’t do her business, she just walked out to the patio and turned around and came right back in. A small example of a tiny action leading to major changes.
The most dramatic example of the “Butterfly Effect” happened to my wife. She went to a class, and usually when she returns and I hear the garage opening I wait in the kitchen for her to come in. One day a few weeks ago, I opened the back door as she was pulling in. She gathered her things and came into the house. We both didn’t notice the butterfly flitting about.
My opening the backdoor somehow altered my wife’s routine. I found out later that she did not turn off the car. She did however shut the garage door. The car ran for hours until it ran out of gas.
More butterflies – Later, when I found out what happened I opened the garage to air it out. Then I took a gas can and went to one of the QT’s on the Rock Road and filled it. When I returned home, I went to pour the gas into her car’s tank, and although the pour spout was secure, it leaked all over my hands. I was wearing new gloves at the time, and they got soaked. I tried switching pour spouts with two other gas cans I had in the garage and they leaked as well. I finally, got one of them to stop leaking, and was able to pour what was left of the gasoline into her tank, then drive her car to the gas station and fill it up.
A small change had a big effect.
Have you experienced the Butterfly Effect?
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