I’m a guy. Always have been. Very comfortable here.

Gender differences are fascinating, though. They make for an outstanding study. One of my favorite contrasts is communication styles. To over generalize it, let’s just say:

Girls emote, guys quote.

In six decades of observing, studying, and applying how men talk, it’s clearly not coming naturally to me. It’s difficult, because you have to know stuff. Lots of stuff. I don’t. Allow me to share some of the most glaring aspects of stereotypical guy talk:

Guys talk sports. 

Sure. Everybody knows that. I can go all all day on baseball, but that’s where it ends. Guys like sports in general. Any sport. But most of all, guys want to talk football. Lots of football. Especially college. They know scores and standings and conferences and draft picks and prospects and salaries and stats on stats. It’s crazy how they know all that.

I got nothin’.

Guys talk machines.

Guys share practical knowledge. Stuff they know that’s factual, feasible and functional.

Whether it be cars, tools, computers, or some variation thereof, guys know how they work, and how much they cost. They know where you can get them, how to fix them, and who has the best deal.

And they must tell you. 

Guys must help you

Even if you don’t want it. Because they know all this stuff, they feel compelled to bless you with their expertise. And they’re not afraid of anything. Especially when it comes to confronting you when you’re sadly misguided on a purchase made, an item repaired, or a route taken.

I was talking to a neighbor guy. He asked me how I was doing. I got into about my second sentence when he got distracted and interrupted me. “What happened to your car?” Well, nothing “happened” to it. It was just a little ding. But he obviously was quite concerned. I assured him I bought it that way, and the seller knocked a considerable hunk off the price. Apparently that made it okay, even awesome.

Shew. That was close. He breathed a sigh of relief and went about his normal life. I believe it involved a 5/8 socket wrench. Or 11/16. Whatever it takes.

Warning to young guys:

If you ever walk up to a group of old guys talking in a church lobby, you better bring your A game. Whatever you’ve got. Because eventually that discussion is going to come around to you. And you’re going to be expected you to deliver some facts. 

Here’s my experience. I’m standing in the circle, smiling nodding, trying to understand what the heck they’re talking about. I just want to be one of the guys, you know? Then, I’m riddled with barrage of queries.

“Who’s your cable provider? What’s the square footage of your house? How much is your electric bill? What kind of mower you got? What tires are you running on that car? What’s your bandwidth? Is your property on silt or clay? 

“…What?”

I panic. “Ummm… The Cowboys?”… Awkward pause.

FAIL. 

But I don’t worry about it anymore. I’m much more comfortable in my own skin now. I know God made me like this and I’m good with it. I don’t have to know all that stuff. I’ve got my own stuff.

I’m just looking for the group of old guys in the church lobby who wants to debate early versus late Beatles, or World Series champions…. Anybody?

Crickets.

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