Men bloggers are from Mars; women bloggers, Venus

Reading Shabana’s blog–which

is so much more lively, varied and, as one friend put it, "real" than
mine–I wonder if I should make an effort to talk about more than politics and (psuedo?)
intellectual topics. 

Whether that would be a positive thing is no doubt open to debate
(perhaps my already humble visit levels would evaporate were I to try
to expand my repetoire much).

I suspect it’s partly a gender differerence.  Men are socialized to
share less about themselves and focus on abstract and intellectual matters.  It is
sometimes said in Women’s Studies circles that "the personal is
political", and you can see that regularly in her blog, though it
certainly has its share of Big Ideas, as well.

So I’m unlikely to start bearing my soul here anytime
soon, but I will endeavor to make this blog less of a one-trick pony.

It’s occurred to me that one easy way to enliven things would be for me to share some of my own observations on marriage, the opposite sex,  and pregnancy. 

At times, I’ve been tempted to provide a counterpoint to some of Shabana’s more, shall we say, entertaining observations about married life, but I know better than to force her to break out the proverbial can of whoop-ass, so I’ll be treading lightly. 

The temptation can be strong at times, and you may even land a blow or two if you have the element of surprise, but once the gloves are off  in even the most friendly "battle of the sexes" debate,  all but the most saintly of husbands have nanoseconds before they get their clocks cleaned.  The outcome is always the same, as assured as the final frame of "Bambi Meets Godzilla".

Every wife has her own list of simple questions that expose their husbands as vile cavemen and, depending on their politics, hypocrites.  You can be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee, but all it takes is a single swat from wifey (e.g., "Refresh my memory, Darling–How many times did you cook dinner during the 9 months of my pregnancy again?") and that room’s spinning and you’re down for the count.