I’ve been hoping to chat about something new, something other than America’s imminent decline and fall. That is difficult, especially given the rapid- fire political events suffocating us at the moment. A $100 million dollar judicial race in Wisconsin saw the MAGA candidate lose decisively despite Trump’s support and Elon Musk’s 20 plus million contribution to the conservative candidate. In his last minute visit to the Badger state, Elon distributed more cash and told the crowd that this race would determine the fate of humanity. Perhaps people believed him and thus voted for the liberal candidate instead. The next day, Trump returned to his personal folly by unleashing a host of ill-considered tarriffs. This is exactly what Republicans did at the start of the great depression, thus deepening that economic crisis. Today, global markets are tanking and doubts about Donald’s sanity are reaching new heights.

But I will ignore all that. I will touch on a very different topic … the gender wars. That sounded good to me, I thought. Nothing is darker and more depressing than male-female relationships, perhaps even matching the insanity going on in D.C.. You do realize that our perpetual gender conflicts make Trump’s war on both America and Western values look like a fun-filled hootenanny.

I start by noting that the whole men are from Mars and women are from Venus trope is utter BS. At their closest, these two orbs are separated by some 52.5 million nautical miles. The actual psychic distance between men and women can only be measured in light years, with a single light-year being some 5.88 trillion miles. In their respective personal make-ups, the two sexes reside on remote planets situated in galaxies far, far removed from one another.

I realize that the only image of God that has stuck with me into my dotage is one where this Divine Presence looks a lot like Don Rickles. Remember him? He was the master of very biting and sarcastic humor. Anyway, God was bored one day. So, He created man. It turned out not to be a good day for God. At their best, this creation of His were little more than clowns that were totally boring and surely pathetic. God then mused, I’ll try again. Can’t do any worse.

So, God thought hard for a bit before chuckling malevolently. I know, God murmured, I’ll create the opposite of man, which I’ll call women. But she’ll be close enough so both genders will be fooled into thinking that they are the same species. But this is where my real genius comes in … each side believes that they can get along with the other sex. This will be hilarious, God thought to himself. Then, He wet himself while doubling over in laughter.

God hit the jackpot with this one. His creation of two genders has proven to be an unending source of mirth to Him or Her (as the case may be). In addition, it has proven to be an unending source of mystery and fascination for those of us residing on either side of the gender divide. How many youthful hours were wasted by us guys attempting to divine the essence of the female being. Better I had tried to comprehend the physics mysteries of quantum mechanics or string theory. Understanding the nature of the universe would have been an easier challenge.

Now, however, I am an octogenerian. I have accumulated some eight decades of observation, interactions, and discussions on this complex phenomenon. Hopefully not overstating my capabilities, I’ve sharpened my analytical skills over a long policy and academic career investigating our most daunting social problems. So, while I cannot claim to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, I’m also far from the dullest bulb on the marquee. In the next paragraph, I summarize what I know about the fairer sex, what Ive learned from my long lifetime of experience.

NOTHING! I got nothin at all.

Oh, how I remember the endless failures of my youth. And by the way, those initial experiences are where we absorb our critical lessons about life and the opposite sex. In later years, we simply repeat embedded scripts with endless futility. As I think on it, I probably was always an advocate of the primacy of early learning hypothesis. That is, our first experiences set the tone for our entire lives. In relationships, therefore, we are sculpted by our initial romantic interactions.

In fact, I recall being awarded an NSF (National Science Foundation) undergraduate research award in college. They selected four promising psychology majors, gave us stipends to support us over the summer, and told us to do original research. I chose to explore this primacy of early learning thesis by running rats of different ages through a complex maze of my own design. I really can’t recall the methodological specifics nor the results, though the experience did end my interest in academic psychology. I had to terminate my subjects at the conclusion, a task that ended with one large rodent peeing in my face as I injected him in the stomach with a lethal dose of something or other. I subsequently would search for my life’s work elsewhere. However, my earliest research did not dissuade me from a belief that our early experiences are seminal.

But I digress. My early romantic experiences were dreadful and largely scarred me for life. I attribute these early traumas to being surrounded by Catholic girls. In my experience, they all had pledged their souls (and surely their bodies) to the Virgin Mary. That somehow meant that they would prefer being plunged into a vat of boiling oil than to be touched by some horny guy. And let’s face it, when we hit puberty, we guys all were horney predators, an incontrovertible fact that is beyond challenge. This was not a situation in which healthy relationships might evolve.

Now, knowing that I was being perceived as a horny predator, I always approached those of the female persuasion with great caution. Let’s face it, I usually was totally paralyzed. On occasion, however, I did make a move, pathetic as it was. Now, this usually happened after I observed the consensual signs of interest … playing with her hair, her gazing at length into my eyes, her laughing at my jokes (which were hilarious), her listening with interest to my endless prattle, and her touching my arm or even my leg (if seated next to one another). Upon observing all this, I would conclude that this female had some interest. If I were a betting man, I would wager the mortgage on this fact. I could never understand why she might have interest. After all, I wasn’t rich or powerful. But there it was … the signs were there.

At that moment, I would suck up all my failing courage and make a timid pass. There would be this brief moment of hope and anticipation before the inevitable reality struck. She would shoot me down, as so many had in the past. Quickly, I would retreat into myself and vow all kinds of improbable things … like a lifetime of celibacy. But hey, I was a horny male. I was more likely to be the first man on the moon than give up sex for good, no matter how much sense that made. Ah yes, celibacy might well have been the wise choice, but I was weak and pathetic, like all my brothers.

Now, in all fairness, my relations with women were not total disasters. I did have some successes in my youth. They typically were with very smart women with whom I could share important intellectual interests (my few high school and college connections all went on to get Doctorates back in the day that was less common). Essentially, I liked bright, witty, independent women. Later, I found I preferred to work collaboratively with women. They struck me as better organized, stayed on point, and were more focused than most of my male colleagues.

Despite my early traumas, I was lucky in life. After escaping a career as an academic in experimental psychology, I lucked into the fascinating world of social policy both as an academic (at an R-1 university) and as a policy wonk. In addition, I lucked into a strong marriage that lasted some half a century. The good woman had a forgiving nature and a strong tolerance for putting up with incompetence and idiocy.

Mostly, though, I wound up having a number of good female friends throughout my life. Women always struck me as more interesting, more emotionally elastic, and better able to plumb deeper into complex personal issues. Besides, they also laughed at my jokes (my Irish wit). Perhaps those early failures in romance were a blessing in disguise. As an adult, I seldom expected any erotic component to be associated with these interactions. I could simply enjoy the friendship.

Of course, I can never quite forget God’s joke on us poor humans. We boys hit puberty and lose all our senses. Girls very gradually awaken to their more erotic impulses much later in life, hitting their stride just as males start experiencing a loss of their testosterone. Some joke. However, I have concluded that lower testosterone can be a positive. To my way of thinking, it makes me a much better man. I can appreciate women as themselves, without any confounding baser needs that typically mess things up.

However, don’t ask me about male-female relationships. As I said above … I got nothin!