When I get home from work or dinner with friends and need to vent about something, I need my boyfriend to do the very opposite of what he does.
Instead of flying off the handle with me, spitting with exuberance and joining me in berating all and sundry for something no doubt trivial, he remains as cool, calm and collected as he would be on a sun lounger, sipping on an ice cold mojito in the med. He will kiss my head, laugh and tell me everything will be okay. That there’s a reason for everybody’s actions and that I’ll think differently in the morning.
All well and good, but where’s the fucking satisfaction in that?
I need him to agree with me and flail his arms in annoyance with whoever it is that has wound me up that day, if only for a minute or two. I need him to get as worked up as my friends do when I vent to them on Whatsapp – even through my phone, I can feel the hot air rising as I tell my best friend about the colleague who bought the same dress as me and wore it into the office. Instead, he behaves completely rationally and politely declines the offer to revel in my frustrations. Each and every time.
I thought this infuriating dynamic was one only we shared. We’re very different, so I assumed it was just another discrepancy between us, but the other day, my little cousin shared a hilarious meme about this very issue and I quickly came to realise it was a worldwide problem for women to add to their list.
Be them life-long mates, recent additions to my phone book or online acquaintances, this is one of the many reasons why I will always need my girlfriends. To frantically text at 2 am until my thumbs are sore and shout loudly with each other about someone we’ve never even heard of over too many beers, just to make each other feel better.
No, this doesn’t serve to facilitate the age-old assumption that women are hysterical and men are rational human beings. It’s basically just like the male version of a punch up. Do this, and we move on. Don’t do this, and we will accuse you of siding with them.
The choice is yours, fellas.