The first few times it happened I was like ‘ouch’ only to realise the gentleman was just saying hello. And of course with my face glued to the desk top I do not see the surprise slap coming.
Then my colleague who sits right next to me, to be honest he is one of the jolly sorts but he has this habit, I am still getting used to after two and a half months of poking me in my arm as a way of alerting me that something is interesting or funny. I suppose from a man’s point of view it is a harmless poke, but I who is on the receiving end it feels like something between a pinch and a punch.
I am slowly beginning to appreciate we the female folk are not that physical or touchy touchy. We believe more in eye contact. From that evil glare we give when we want to put someone down to the flickering of eyelashes when we are outright flirting.
For men eye contact is not the important and neither is it effective, so do not even waste time nor energy.
Now I understand better why men like football even if they are mere spectators. Fine; the feet hit the ball but I think all the shoving, elbowing and wild cheering and celebrating when a ball is scored adds up to the thrill of the game. I must confess I am totally useless when it comes to soccer. I do not have a favourite team whether local or otherwise and I think the only reason I knew Beckham is because I saw him more of a fashion idol than a first class footballer.
I have a male friend whom the easiest way to get an outing from him was to promise to behave while he watched soccer then talk afterwards. I think those are the only 90 minutes you would catch me partially quiet plus asking the most dumb soccer questions.
Being surrounded by men is great considering the fact you get unexpected compliments. With fellow sisters the words of encouragement come out in bits and pieces and not particularly as graphic as the ones from the brothers.
And one thing I do like about the men is that they generally do not keep grudges. You can actually have a show down with a man but he won’t go on sulking for days; apart form a few exceptions who think they are God’s gift. Well maybe they are?
From my young Sharobaro who is almost 15, I am highlighted on anything to do with hi tech from the latest phones to earphones. He, the whizz kid departs knowledge to gadget clueless mum in the guise for a request for stash in order to buy an item. It is from my son I am learning real fast that the male specie have no qualms talking about money.
I do not remember ever having the same financial discussions with my parents when I was his age or even when I was older.
All said and done it is a different experience working with men.