age-old question, as true as trite.
Women complain of the opposite sex since kindergarten. The report
with the male is the theme of nearly every discussion and conversation. Ok, then, cliches abound that "men are from Mars bla bla", "He does not understand me", "We speak two different languages," "There is no dialogue," there is sharing, "" the Our relationship is unbalanced, "" There's a wall between us, "" We women ... We women ... We women .... "
Personally, I have always found much more difficulty in
understand / communicate / share with women.
And all the women will tell you the same thing.
But then all women will have a best friend because they have not yet decided whether to believe in friendship between man and woman.
But without taking charge of the friendships established, two women who come together from scratch, perhaps made by some male friend attractive, they will see their level of tolerance to the human being able to collapse to zero in seconds.
There is no justice. If we know a jerk, we are ready to laugh at his jokes very funny. We tell ourselves that it is not fair to stop at the first impression. We give you the opportunity to redeem himself. With the new arrival, this kind of indulgence undergoes a collapse irreversible. You're a woman, you say fucked up (but not, just a facial expression not congenial to us): you're dead. You radiata. Branded as a head of cattle. A scarlet letter that says in no time at all you maidens painting in front of the crack. And apart from the waltz of the titles: the stupid, the careless, the dead of sleep, the pig, the teacher, what must be calm, the queen of the world, tectonics, the teeth, the Boccalon, the Butt, the caregiver (for hair color), the ice cream (for the white pants), the hairy one that just cel'ha her, the dwarf, dried cod, the top, the yellow (the color for jaundice) and so on. And this name if it does not take away ever again, even after trying his sympathy / interest / righteousness / intelligence / sensitivity / eloquence / sense of taste. Indeed. More and worse is trying to rebel. Remains entangled in your name as a self-fulfilling prophecy. For years I was the bitch and the bitch is what got a lot to me. But that's another story.
Women are struggling to make the team. And if they do is a facade, a project or temporary basis. After the moment, everything disappears. Each won the tournament at home. After the trivial, travel spree to do with the children of the crack.
"Then, Saturday dinner, evening women. Men home. "= "Talking cock" ergo man (in spirit), however, breaks in the "women-only evening."
the workplace, do not talk about. Obviously, with some exceptions, the new co-worker gives less chances to get to know and appreciate. At first glance it is not a partner, a new sailor on the ship company. It 'an intruder with a shovel to spread on the face of the Crete Senesi (= heavy makeup), a threat to the status quo which, paradoxically, is to join forces veterans who maybe 20 minutes before you could not see.
Personally, at least during childhood and adolescence, I was able to escape more or less because I did not put in a position to be considered a potential threat. I was lonely and a little owl. Do not raise major dislikes because with my presence that I just wind the status quo.
Then I strung together a series of growing antipathy (against my will) and, paradoxically, I do not have hardly noticed (because she is careful not to engage in polemics face to face).
In high school we were a class of 24, women only. The tension is sometimes cut with an ax to addiction and from there the pace was very quick. I did not expect to find friends and I did not even anything to solve the problem. The first few years, despite my own attitude to PR I found two of number. As good as the bread. I do not deserve any at all. I had too much ass.
Then, as within an experiment nuclear chemist, formed a shapeless conglomerate of six subjects XX. A cocktail that worked for years. And apart from a couple of defections, it still works great. But this is only and exclusively because of a product selection based on the time and especially cross-anchors of character. There is no leader and there is a trailer. Who wanted to be the leader and who has begun to do the trailer car is ejected, as Darwin taught us.
emphasize that mine are more general considerations. Do not want to provoke the ire of some little woman straight that as a missionary welcomes all with open arms, without prejudice. I notice when I have X-rays on the face of a girl I do virtual slapped on the hands because they are not stupid to recognize the error and what I can at least try not to externalize the report (unless it is with my three XX, then walk there if not for feel-good comments, trouble). But this only confirms what the x-ray is an unfortunate part of our conditioned reflex that automatically, as if we touched a nerve.
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