I read somewhere that men compartmentalize better than women. How they determine such things, I have no idea. But in plain speak, that means we guys are better at putting some things in boxes we want to open and putting other things in boxes we don’t want to open. It makes sense, I guess, when you think about men’s affinity for boxes. Toolboxes and tackle boxes come immediately to mind.

Of course, that’s not what these experts are talking about. They’re talking about “mental boxes,” like the compartment for “getting the job done” (as easily opened as a can of cold beer) or the compartment for “talking about our feelings” (you might need a crowbar).

These are the kind of gender differences that are explained to us in best-selling books like “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus.” Personally, I’ve met women and men I’d swear are from Pluto, but since that former planet has been downgraded to a planetoid, I’ll defer to the author, a relationship counselor.

Here’s a except from Wikipedia: “The book states that most common relationship problems between men and women are a result of fundamental psychological difference between the sexes … that men and women are from distinct planets … and that each sex is acclimated to its own planet’s society and customs, but not to those of the other.”

I’ll buy that as far as it goes, but the problem with these men-are-like-this, women-are-like-that books is that humans are inescapably complex creatures. Take me, for example. I know I have many so-called (read stereotyped) feminine traits. I’m collaborative by nature; I’m not terribly assertive; and I don’t like conflict.

More telling, I enjoy watching cheesy romantic movies on the Lifetime Channel with my wife, though I know they are formulaic and corny. Her favorite genre is what we jokingly call “prince movies,” the basic elements being a sad young prince with a dicey British accent, a dead king father and a dominant queen mother, an annoying fiancée, an adorable American ingénue and a supporting cast of plotters, schemers and enablers. As the movie starts, I squirm and complain for five minutes, and then I settle down and sit quietly through the entire thing, even though I know exactly how it will end: With a kiss!

While the experts tell us women are more emotional than men, my wife is extremely logical. She buys those logic puzzle magazines and tears through them faster than most guys can read the sports pages. And she’s very good at math, supposedly a male trait. She considered majoring in math at college. I’m not good at math, at all. The grade I’m most proud of in my college career was a C in algebra. Calculus kept me from becoming a wildlife biologist, so in my junior year I switched my major to journalism and here I am writing newspaper columns.

But back to compartmentalization. In this category I’m a male standout, a stud. I can compartmentalize with the best of them. My brain, if exposed, would look like a jelly bag of Japanese nesting boxes. Vladimir Putin has declared war on the U.S. and is threatening us with nuclear annihilation? Not to worry. I’m busy writing this column. Or working in the yard. Or taking a nap.

Former President Bill Clinton is reportedly a master compartmentalizer. The writer George Plimpton sat next to the president on Air Force One while covering the 1996 Olympic Games for Sports Illustrated. Plimpton asked the president which Olympic event he could imagine himself competing in. President Clinton answered the decathlon. “He said it was because [in that event] you had 10 disciplines that you could concentrate on. And it’s quite evident that he has the ability to do it, too. This is a man who is able to stand and give a speech and not have you-know-who popping up in the back of his head.”

In real life, the gender difference thing is complicated.

Steven Price is a Kennebunkport resident. He can be reached at sprice1953@gmail.com.

 

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