Men in my life

Men. Some I can figure out, some I can’t. I generally refer to the main men in my life for the opportunity to learn something new. Believe me, there’s enough variety here to keep me going for the rest of my life.

I’m convinced my father has Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. He drives my mother up the wall. He can’t stay still, he flits from one subject to another and has the attention span of a mud skipper. I’m not saying that my father is a stupid person, but for those more grounded people around him, mainly my mother, he poses quite a challenge to the equilibrium, every single day. My father likes to keep busy, doing what – I don’t know, but every time I ring him, he’s too busy to elaborate on it. When he is standing in one spot, he is still moving from one foot to another. When he is sitting in a chair, he is re-arranging the ornaments on the coffee table.

My brother is a completely different animal. He is reclusive, eccentric and has an agenda. Conversations usually revolve around him and his life, his latest muse, and how much he hates the world economy. He wont ring anybody as it costs money, but if you ring him, he will hang on the phone for hours regailing you with his views on everything from the loser at the local pub, to the transnationals taking over the world. My brother is quite brilliant, with a photographic memory and an IQ off the chart, but a brain broken by drug experimentation and a dusting of paranoia make him unpredictable and intolerant of human foibles.

My son is quite charming, but reserved and shy. An intelligent boy, but lacking in confidence. He is kind to animals and children and is not above mucking in and doing bit of housework every now and again. He teeters between states of confusion and bolts of inspirational direction. Life tends to be a steep learning curve for him most of the time, as he grasps the concepts that only age and experience can bring.

And my husband, who can be the most unpredictable beast of all. He is a cross between a sensitive new age guy and the man’s man. He can cook as well as any chef when he’s in the mood, but is just at home with a variety of power tools. He is as dedicated to spending time in the hardware store as he is to buying the ingredients for his latest culinary creation. He survives in the hard-edge world of oil rigs and shipping, but enjoys a good massage and rose petal bath soak. He can cry into a beer, and be unflinching in an argument of opinion.

Men. Just when I think I have them figured out, the above participants change the goalposts. The only thing I have really figured out is that men are different, strange and unpredictable, but lovable,  and no two are alike. They all have their differences, which may or may not be based on genetics. They are in a constant state of flux. I can pigeonhole as much as I like, but I bet I will never be able to fit a square peg into a round hole.

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