Men v. Women

I think the real difference between men and women really boils down to what instructions they choose to read. Recently I was taking towels out of the washer & transferring them to the dryer and I noticed the washer was set for hot water.

“Love of my life, did you just wash these in hot water?” I asked.

“I always wash towels in hot water,” was the reply.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Should I not do that?”

“Uh, no,” I replied, finally understanding the multiple shades of blue that abound in the linen closet.

Now, being female, I could be simply amazed that my loving fiancé, a very bright man, had never read the laundry tags when doing laundry. However, I do the same thing with my car.

“Have you ever changed the timing belt on your car?” my loved one asked me one day.

“Would that be done in a ‘tune up’ scenario or does one have to ask for this service?” (I always find impeccable grammar helps when I am about to have my gross ignorance of a topic revealed.)

“No, you have to ask for it, usually at 75,000 miles.” Need I mention that my car is considerably past this landmark?

“Oh.” Now I do not like being given random unsolicited advice anymore than anyone else does, but when the man I love, who seems to be able to fix everything, thinks I need a new timing belt, I am more than happy to believe him. While he was wondering how I could drive a car without ever reading the lovely instruction manual the car obviously came with, I went happily off to call the mechanic. The call from the mechanic after he looked at my car:

“You wanted your timing belt replaced?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a problem?”
No, my fiancé told me I should probably have it done.” I think mechanics probably find it easier to believe women when they know there is a man involved somewhere in the background.
“The belt has been replaced pretty recently and there isn’t anything wrong with it.”
“Oh.” Now that was just odd. Was there a “Random Acts of Car Repair” movement that I was unaware of? No one drives me car except me. Suddenly I had a flash of illumination: “Would the timing belt have been replaced if the front of my car had been destroyed in an accident?”

Bingo.

Had I been a man, I’m sure I would probably have either known where the timing belt was or have paid attention to the suggested maintenance schedule that I vaguely remember might be in the instruction manual. Instead, I read laundry labels on my clothes and know what “permanent press” means in textile lingo. I look great, but my car engine is a mess. I have no doubt where to find the information—I just don’t feel I need to know. I also have no doubt that the love of my life knows that laundry items generally come with tags suggesting their future care—but he’s probably busy reading car repair manuals. On behalf of his clothes & my car, it’s a really good thing we’re getting married.