Up until recently, I regarded men and women as different but equal. I consider us basically the same in theory except for men are hardwired to think of boobs and football and women are more hardwired to think of other’s feelings and shopping. 

However, after a recent discussion with my husband I finally had the epiphany: ‘Men and women are not alike at all. We are different, we think differently.’ 

We were packing for a weekend trip. Patrick (my husband), threw a pair of sneakers by the door and slipped on his flip-flops. “I’m ready when you are,” he said. 

I sighed, loudly and exasperatingly. “Seriously? You are already packed and everything? Men suck.” 

Patrick just laughed and responded, “Yeah, I do suck.” Then he proceeded to drop in front of the Xbox and start playing a game. 

I suppressed the urge to growl and went back into the bedroom.  A few hours later I was packed. “OK, Patrick I’m ready. You can start packing the car now,” I yelled over my shoulder as I scrambled towards my closet. 

“Lets go, everything is packed,” he called out mere minutes later. 

“Not yet, I’m picking shoes,” I said. 

“Just take these sneakers and wear your flip-flops,” replied Patrick grabbing my nicest sneakers. “O—okay,” I said instinctively glancing around and grabbing a pair of comfy slip-on loafers and a pair of stiletto heels. 

Patrick looked at my hands full of shoes, as I came out of the bedroom and laughed. “What?” I said, “I decided I need a few more pairs, you know, in case we go to dinner or something.” My husband wisely said nothing and just smiled. You see, he is used to this. I do this every trip we take. I pretend not to pack very much and he looks the other way when I bring 8 pairs of shoes for a weekend trip. Yes, I’ve really done that.  

Shoes is one of those issues. When I moved into my first apartment, my husband (then fiancé) learned just how far my love of shoes stretched.

 “How many sneakers do you own?!” 

“Not that many,” I replied. “I have two pairs for jogging, one for hiking or outside work, another older pair for canoeing and one pair for gym. Really not that many.” 

Patrick just sighed and rolled his eyes as he tossed another sneaker into my gigantum box of shoes. 

I laugh when I think back to that day; he hadn’t even seen how many heels I owned yet. Did I ever own heels: platform heels, kitten heels, wedge heels. I own them all. Not just heels and sneakers either, but also, flip-flops, sandals, clogs, boots, and oxfords.  

That day I counted my shoes; I had over 100 pairs. I have bought at least 20 pairs since then and thrown out maybe four. 

My husband owns five pairs of shoes: sneakers, boots, two pairs of flip flops and a pair of dress shoes. 

Over 100 shoes versus five. Five! 

 I hope you can understand my shock and almost disgust. How can he live with only five pairs of shoes?! Doesn’t he feel cheated when he sees all the pairs I have? 

Then, last weekend while at my cousin’s house, I decided to wear heels to dinner. My cousin lives in the country and heels don’t really work well with gravel driveways but I thought I could make it to the car. I mean, come on, its only a few steps to the car from the door. So I slip on my sexy new pink suede heels and walk onto the gravel, and fall. I pick myself up try not to act mortified and reassure the men I’m fine as I grasp the car as I walk around the trunk, and fall again. 

At this point I’m so mortified I just want to lie on the ground. Instead I summon my gumption and take off the heels, handing them to Patrick. “Honey, please bring me my flip-flops.” 

My cousin, Brant, leans in and frowns worriedly, “Are you ok? I don’t know how women wear those things.” 

I stop examining my legs and look up at him. He obviously couldn’t care less if I wore them or not. Even Patrick had been urging me to wear flip-flops to dinner. 

I’ve always loved  heels but another reason I bought them was because I thought men found them a turn-on. 

Ask any woman, I’m sure they will admit that half the reason we ‘stilt up’ is to attract the opposite sex. But here were two, reasonable men and they were only worried about the damage to my legs and making it to dinner. They couldn’t care less that my outfit looked less impressive with flip flops. This brought me to a realization. I don’t know men at all. I spend tons of time with my male cousin and my husband. I see my dad, brother, and uncle fairly often. I dated extensively before Patrick wooed me off the market. How could I not know men? 

The answer is this: women think one way and men think another. We should stop trying to fit men into a box. Not all men like heels on a woman, bring home the bacon, and know how to fix an engine. Just like not all women know how to cook and their life ambition isn’t to become a homemaker. 

Let’s celebrate men and women for what they are: different and special, with their own talents. I plan to stop trying to understand Patrick through my mindset, and instead just accept his little quirks as they occur. So women lets enjoy these surprises from our men and not try to understand them. Sometimes the best things in life cannot be understood.