Battle of the Genders: Who Really Wins?

Moon. Stars. Ferry lights. Music. Pizzas. Beers. And us.. Oh! Whatta night.

He noticed I was standing alone on the terrace, swaying to an Adele track with an empty beer to keep me company.

“You seem like you could use another drink — and some good company”, he said as he walked towards me.

I chuckled.

“So, what deep thoughts are you playing in that little head?”, he handed me a bottle. He looked effortlessly handsome in his deep blue t-shirt, the lights casting a soft glow on his skin.

“There’s a fundamental problem with your gender, man”, I proclaimed!

“Alright, that’s not the first time I have heard that.”

We exchanged a mischievous grin.

“What did my gender do now?”, he asked.

He turned his back to the dance floor to cherish the view of the streets below from the terrace. I followed him.

“I am trying to be polite with this dude but nope.. not working out.”

Sharing stuff with him was soothing. Don’t ask why.

“Look, I promise I won’t deny your claim. But, on a serious note, you look agitated. What’s up?”

“We only went on a few mediocre dates and didn’t keep in touch as such. Now, suddenly, he’s bombarding me with questions like, ‘You’re online — why aren’t you replying? Who are you talking to? Are you seeing someone else?’ It’s incredibly frustrating,” I added.

“Hah! I can listen to your rant all day. It’s funny! Imagine a tiny, cute ball but red in wrath.”

“Want me to throw you down from here?”, I blackmailed him.

“Sorry, ma’am. Continue”, he uttered with a fake-grave look.

“Nope. You tell me. What do you men want in life?” I replied hopelessly.

“Hold on. First tell me, why are you tolerating this bullshit from him? Just ignore him or even better, block him!”

“I don’t know. I was being polite.. and he is a family friend”. I tied my hair into a small ponytail.

“Give me your phone!”, he switched my phone off. “Let me be the only guy who will be annoying you.”

That mischievous grin was back.

“Do you say that to your girlfriend too?” Teasing him was so much fun.

“Want me to throw “you” down?”, he emphasized on “you”.

One of our friends called, “Guys, come on in, the food’s here!”

“We’re coming in a bit. Save some for us”, we shouted in sync.

“So where were we? Oh yeah.. talking about horny men.” I gulped the chilled Heineken.

“I don’t understand why some guys think this sort of behavior will get them laid. If they want sex, they need to approach it the way women prefer. Do they not have the IQ to grasp that?”

“I guess not…?”, he sounded a bit frightened.

“But tell me one thing… Why do you women treat sex as a favor? You have a good time too!”, he rebelled.

“Because unlike you, we can live without it. As for you, well, it’s always on your mind, gosh!” We were now debating in full swing.

“I will try to disagree but there’s too much truth in that”, he acknowledged his loss.

“You can’t disagree. I have known enough men to make that claim”, I simpered, reinforcing my point.

“But please, teach your gender something”, I pleaded.

“You want to teach a bunch of horny men that they won’t be able to get any sex, eh?”

“Hahaha. Teach them to do things a woman wants.”

“You mean…in bed?”

“Nooooo!! In general.. in life.. in bed and not in bed”, I corrected him.

“Oops. Sorry, it was the first thing I jumped to.. being a man here.”

I shook my head in resignation.

“Let me take a wild guess — you’re thinking something like, ‘All guys are the same,’ right?” He tried to poke at my frustration even more.

“That’s not even an exaggeration. Honestly, God bless your entire gender.”

“Haha, we’ll keep this going, but let me grab another bottle in the meantime.”

“Running away from more allegations, huh?”

“I wish I had the guts to do that! Do you want a bottle too?”

“No, I am alright.. in fact.. pretty tipsy. Get us some food out here.”

“Yes, Madame, be right back!”

He left me to watch people — drunk, dancing, and enjoying themselves. The scene was surreal, and it filled me with joy.

He returned with 2 boxes of pizza, some sandwiches, and coke.

“Okay, how about this? I thought of a counter in the loo.” He appeared very vibrant all of a sudden with a new-found confidence.

“Shoot.”

“Every-girl-is-complicated!!” He halted after every word.

“Oh, come on!”, I got defensive.

“No really! tell me, why are women so extreme?”

There was an instantaneous silence and we could hear ‘Until I Found You’ by Stephen Sanchez playing in the background.

“Hmm,” I began, thinking out loud. “We might seem ‘extreme’ to you because our emotional highs and lows are more pronounced. Even if nothing changes materially, we experience it as a roller coaster….Maybe it’s because our nervous systems are more sensitive — but I’m not too sure.”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts and continued, “I used to see that as a flaw because of the conflicts I had with my boyfriend, but lately, I’ve been trying to embrace it. Our emotional sensitivity and intuition help us spot sincerity in others. But the ups and downs of being a woman — ah, it’s lonely out there, you know.”

He picked up on my sensitivity to the topic and took a while to respond with intention.

“I know, I know. Over time, I’ve also come to admire this quality in women— their ability to experience deep emotions gives meaning and color to life. For us men, reaching that same emotional depth often requires external stimuli.”, he said in a bittersweet tone.

“Yes, that’s why you seek challenges like climbing mountains or swimming across rivers, to feel something profound!”, I gently poked fun at him.

He flashed a grin and pulled out another bottle — this time, a Corona. The lights made his dark, pale skin wheatish.

“But, while we are on this topic, tell me, why is it so damn hard for men to express their emotions?”, I asked, staring deeply into his eyes.

“I think you already know this but let me remind you — society perceives emotional expression in men as weakness.”, he sighed heavily.

“I’m well aware of that, but why do you let that influence how you view and express yourself?”

“When you open up, you risk being seen as weak and less of a man…and it’s not just in our heads. There are real-world consequences to it. Peers mock or talk behind you, partners lose attraction, bosses overlook you for promotions thinking you won’t be a good leader. This is the reality of the world we live in.”

He began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and looked like he was deep in thought.

“But isn’t it harder to pretend to be tough and be perceived than allowing yourself to be human and authentic?”, I countered.

“It’s not that easy. Patriarchal norms dictate that men should be stoic and “strong” at all times. Honestly, we’re not solving anything by putting on this tough guy act. We’re perpetuating the same toxic cycle, to the people around us and the next generations.”

“But it’s a decision you can make for yourself, right?”, I was wondereding if that was too naive of me to ask.

“Yes, but challenging the constructs threatens the existing power structures and gender roles that many people unconsciously rely on”, he paused for a few seconds and continued, “But you’re right! Bottling it all up isn’t the answer either. It festers and explodes later. So we’re stuck in this never-ending cycle of — feeling something, wanting to express it, remembering society’s rules, suppressing emotions, repeating until we break. It’s exhausting!”

“Fair.. I guess that’s why we see so many men with anger issues, given there’s no outlet for their emotions”, I related pretty well.

“And the worst part is that this belief gets reinforced by the media, family structures, and our institutions (schools, colleges, workplaces). Have you seen the idea of a “macho” man in our movies?”, he said dissecting the topic deeper.

“Of course!”, I said unclearly, munching the last bite of the pizza slice.

“Whoever said men don’t feel pain was never kicked in the balls”, he said and we both burst out laughing. I loved how he could sprinkle humor into even the most serious discussions.

I got up and dusted my skirt from the back. “It’s my turn to use the restroom now.”

“Let’s go inside and carry on..?”, he proposed.

“You guys missed the hilarious dance by our DJ,” our friends mocked us. Somehow that didn’t bother us. We found an isolated corner in the living room and continued the conversation.

“You know I was pondering over how pop culture is to be blamed for women’s psychology as well. Most rom-com movies portray women as if their lives revolve entirely around waiting for a knight in shining armor to come and rescue them from their misery”.

“100%! This is why women have such unrealistic expectations! ”, he exclaimed.

“Don’t worry. Once you figure us out, we won’t seem very high maintenance. But, I get it..figuring out takes time”, I said slyly.

“Once we figure you out!?, he remarked in disbelief. “Imagine you’re reading a book, you have no idea how many chapters there are, but after years of trying you somehow finish the book. Then, you realize, it was just volume 1.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly and kept shifting between serious and playful topics.

“But isn’t that the interesting part? Getting to know someone? Figuring them out?”, I retorted.

“Yes.. when you feel like you’re making some progress. Else, it’s similar to shooting in the dark”, he giggled softly.

“But, coming back to the topic in hand, tell me, where do such hefty expectations come from?”

“What do you mean? Give me more context!”, I probed further.

“My girlfriend expects me to pick up on her feelings without saying much, but I often can’t tell if she really means what she says. Why do you guys want telepathy? What’s the problem with communicating like normal people?”, he interrogated.

“Don’t blame us. Blame the movies.” I smiled.

“Of course, of course. The girl is always right!”

“Absolutely! Screw rom-coms! Screw movies!” My voice echoed with intensity.

“You guys won’t admit your mistakes but expect us to own up to ours. I’m amazed at how you manage to shape the narrative so it always seems like it’s our fault! Always!!”

“Aaah, okay! Looks like someone needs to vent”, I became defensive.

“Don’t act like there’s no truth to that! Why do you always need to be right?”

He might have touched a nerve with that one.

Staring at the ceiling and muttered, “It’s not just about needing to be right. Women, on average, invest more effort into relationships and are more present. We’ve already discussed how intense and overwhelming our feelings can be. I think what we’re seeking is recognition and validation for those emotions”, I confided to him.

“Wow, I have never really thought from that perspective”, he said with a sad smile.

“Yeah, you know, my ex-boyfriend often told me how he could completely clear his mind. I later realized that a lot of men experience this. It’s something we find much harder to achieve. We’re natural multi-taskers, and the moment we have a free minute, our minds immediately shift to the endless to-do list running in the background.”

That made us both wonder and we started travelling in separate thought trains.

“Damn woman!”, he exhaled.

“Also that’s what movies have taught us growing up—that our idea of love should involve men being able to read our emotions. I’m not arguing whether it’s right or wrong; I’m just trying to explain”, I confessed with remorse.

“Wait, is love about understanding what someone’s thinking without them saying it? Or is it more about truly understanding what they mean from what they say and then responding thoughtfully? Honestly, I think the latter is even harder,” he offered a different perspective.

“Wow, I have never really thought from that perspective. But I have to agree here, pop culture, books, and movies have tarnished our idea of love”.

“But, hey, hey, let’s not completely ditch movies. Where do you think I get my romantic moves from? How do you think I have such a big fanbase of women?” he said with a playful grin, trying to lighten the conversation.

Sometimes, I’m amazed at how he can juggle between being so thoughtful and yet so silly.

Our friends abruptly interrupted the conversation and dragged us onto the dance floor. Soon enough, we were grooving to the music, lost in the rhythm. “We Are Young” was playing after all.

After a while of dancing and mingling with others, we found our way back to each other.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering — have you talked to your girlfriend about these topics?”, I asked.

He seemed reluctant to answer.

“I am sorry if I am probing.”

“Nah, I’m not sure if I really have…bits and pieces, here and there. But, you know, it’s not always about the question itself. Sometimes it’s about the conversation when the question comes up, or the person asking it. It’s about what’s on your mind in that moment, and a hundred other things beyond just the question.”

I was pleasantly impressed as I had never experienced this side of him before.

“Yeah, but I think you should tell her your idea of love and what it means to you”, I nagged.

“I think what I’ll tell her will be fabricated cliched bullshit because my idea of love is unclear. I don’t understand it.”

“Yeah probably, you’re right. Love is only meant to be felt.”

“I mean, people say I love someone who’d do this for me, or who’s like that. All farce! You’d fall in love with someone who wouldn’t do any of it. What we are looking for is just something we tell ourselves, if we truly knew the answer to it, life would be wayyy easier.”

“What a thought, sir!”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Still, try it out. What’s your interpretation?”, I became inquisitive.

“Okay if I try really hard, my idea of love is “understanding”. When you do not just feel heard but understood.”

“It's flawless! Now, go and tell her that.” He delighted me to my surprise yet again.

“Got it, love guru.” He was taking my case now.

“What’s yours, ma’am?”

“I think my idea of love would be having a wide spectrum of experiences together and sticking together through it — all of it”, I gave my perspective.

It was that time of the party. When most people are passed out, the loud music is gone and only serene music lingers, when the ones awake are rolling a doobie. Parties are pretty much similar, aren’t they?

“Beautiful! You know, all this gender talk now makes me believe that both genders have their flaws but also their unique beauty.”

“Exactly! To genders… Cheers.” I raised a toast and both our glasses clinked.

“The challenge is that all of us often struggle to see things from the other gender’s perspective, especially caught up in the day-to-day mundanity of life.”

“Maybe the couples who last long crack the code.”

“Code?”

“Yes, the code of living together with different DNAs.”

“Maybe. By the way, I haven’t told you... you look really pretty today”, he complimented in a reticent manner.

“So do you. Such a gentleman, it’s surprising”, I blush, just a little.

“Alright then. I am going to pass out now, bye!”