Man-logic. Evidently it's a real thing.

 

Man-logic. Evidently it's a real thing

26 March 2024

Man-logic. It’s a foreign concept to me. Unchartered territory. Though I’ve been on the receiving end of it often.

 

I wonder if men feel the same about girl-math? Because that is also a real thing. To be fair, so is girl-logic. So there is that.

 

We all have our own unique reference system. Possibly based on something as random as our gender. So weird, given how advanced humankind is, and how far we’ve come, that so very often it still resorts to which bits you’ve got.

 

Grant and I love watching Survivor. I know. Judge me if you want to. But I’ve simply always loved it. Maybe it’s just Jeff Probst. Then again, who could really blame me? Because just look at him. He’s Jeff Probst. Which is more than enough explanation. Need I say more? So why am I rambling on about Survivor? Well, whether you know the principle of the game, or whether if you don’t, I’ll give you a quick rundown. Eighteen strangers are dropped off in a remote location. And they’re usually divided into two teams of nine contestants each. Think NO amenities. No spare clothing. I don’t like to think about bathrooms and how they go about that particular necessity, but basically there isn’t any. Which is why I choose not to think about it. Occasionally, if the producers are feeling generous, they’re given a bag of rice. Yet no flint to make fire. No pots. No bedding. Nothing. They’re basically given a water bottle, access to a well and a big pristine beach, mostly with a bit of a jungle attached to it, and then they’ve got to figure it out. Rewards like flints, cooking utensils and fishing gear can be acquired by winning challenges. Every three days or so, a contestant from the losing team (after a challenge), gets voted out. And so the numbers dwindle. Until you’re eventually left with one ultimate survivor. On day 27 or something. Can’t remember.

 

But basically, in order to eventually win and become “The Ultimate Survivor”, you need to make alliances. The big twist in the game, is the fact that the people that you include in your alliance, will eventually be voted out. By you. Yet, you need them to vote FOR YOU at the final tribal council. Really clever twist. Now what I find ironic, is that so very, very often, alliances are based on gender. Kinda like, “we’re a bunch of girls – let’s stick together”. So weird. I had always imagined that there would be more important factors to consider. Yet, more often than not, it’s once again simply decided, because you’ve got the same equipment. It is odd, right?

 

So what exactly is girl-math? Well long ago, shortly after Cole was born, I was a real porker. And I decided to join Weigh-Less. As they do every single week when you go for your weigh-in, they quite obviously get you to stand on a scale, and they record your weight on your very own chart. Really nifty, so you can track your progress, or lack thereof. And I remember weighing myself at home, just before I left to go weigh in for the first time. And I couldn’t help noticing that there was a 400g difference between my scale and theirs. And so, since the first week, whenever I weigh myself at home, I automatically take off 400g off the number on the scale. Cause why wouldn’t I? More than nineteen years later and I still do it to this day. It’s girl-math and it suits me perfectly. Regardless, I can fault that particular logic. Makes sense to me.

 

Anyway, so the point I’m trying to make, albeit rather lengthily, is that men and women are supremely different. On so many levels.

 

So take my beloved Grantie, as an example. We absolutely LOVE our cats. But for longest time, there has been a ginger tomcat that comes calling after we’ve gone to bed. He doesn’t cause a fight or anything. At least not anymore. He simply saunters through the cat flap and helps himself to the virtual smorgasbord selection of cat food that we’ve got. For our cats. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind. Feeding the hungry and all. But My Grantie takes it very badly. Mostly because initially this ginger cat used to terrorize our cats and fight with them. However by now, they’re used to him. They just steer clear when he’s around and lay low. Watching him with extreme boredom from a safe distance. Which somehow incenses My Grantie even more. Where’s their fighting spirit? Why don’t they stand up for themselves and boot him out? A contributing factor, is also the fact that this is indeed not a poor homeless and hungry stray. He lives a mere three houses away from us and has a very happy home life, I’m sure.

 

Regardless of this hapless cat’s circumstances, Grant takes exception. He’s got a low-level radar system, that stays primed and ready, right through the night. Cat flap noises often causes him to get up and investigate the cause. Even though we’ve got two cats. And they both use the cat flap too. What can I say? Boy-logic at work. Though to be fair, once Grantie’s meds kicks in, he sleeps deeper. And occasionally the offender does trespass without being caught in the act. Now as for me? I could sleep through a bomb going off. Or a band rehearsal. And have done so many times in the past. The band rehearsal. Not the bomb. Noise doesn’t faze me in the slightest. Still marvel at the fact that I woke up for my babies in the night when they were little. It’s a miracle!

 

So My Grantie has devised a cunning plan to thwart the ginger cat’s unwanted presence in our home. A deterrent, if you like.

 

A wooden rocking horse ornament. Yip. A rocking horse. I. Have. No. Words.

 

The wooden rocking horse is meticulously and strategically placed just inside the cat flap every night. So the “perp” gets sufficiently frightened and deterred, should he want to enter.

 

Yip. Every single night.

 

Grantie recently went to Joburg for a work trip for two nights. And every night he reminded me to place “the fierce beast” just inside the cat flap.

 

So here’s the next obvious question. Does it work? Is it an effective deterrent? Is the tomcat appropriately traumatised by the horror of a beautifully ornate wooden rocking horse?

 

Well, of course not. I suspect he thinks we’ve merely decorated. Or placed it there to welcome him.

 

Regardless, it gets placed nightly without fail. Much to my amusement. And I think our cats’ and the tomcat’s too.

 

Boy-logic. It is absolutely priceless. And I do love it so.

 

Either which way, it’s got huge entertainment appeal. So I’m all for it.