A scientist once suggested, only half-joking, that the dimorphic sexes are really like separate species.  They have similar food and habitat requirements so are in direct competition but they have to come together for conception and child rearing.  They have very different perspectives on these and other aspects of their shared environment.  This can all be very confusing and dangerous to the individuals in both groups. It is for these reasons, he speculates, that there are so many social rules surrounding the interaction between the variants (males and females).  It keeps them from preying on each other.

 Proving this could be the seminal research that Nancy and I accomplish on our trip this summer.  The differences are never so clear as when there is a vehicle involved and differences become downright definitive when involving a trailer. 

Today’s experiment was taking the boat out of the water and loading it on it’s trailer.  The date for leaving on our camping trip approaches so the boat had to be taken from it's mooring in Cape Cod Bay and nested in our new garage.  The trailer is hooked up to the pickup and Nancy will drive it to Rock Harbor.  There I will meet her with the boat.   

As I approach the loading ramp in the boat the area clears of traffic.  I see that Nancy is going to back the trailer into the water.  "Wow!  Good for you, Nancy, giving that a try."   First attempt results in a 120 degree trailer / truck / dock alignment.  OK - patience - try again.  Now it's about 90 degrees and getting ugly. 

 Now there I sit holding the boat steady in the current lining her up to the ramp when it finally dawns on me that maybe I should be somewhere else - like in the truck – instead of Nancy.  I am WAY too late.  What an asshole.  Nancy leaps out of the truck abdicating my truck and trailer to a complete stranger. 

OK, so the loading did finally occur and the air is tense but neither of us was walking home (wherever that is these days).  I drive to the house.  Neither of us mentions the ramp contortions. The boat gets a quick wash and now it is time to back into the garage.  Nancy will guide me. 

 Now what quirk of spatial relations and optics results in the female direction giver always standing exactly out of the field of view in exactly that place in the universe that cannot be seen through any of the three mirrors of the male operator’s vehicle? 

 "I can't see you. I can't see you.  I really can't see you".  Ahh! There you are, but what is that signal I am receiving?  It is not the usually "stop" / "go" combo in rapid succession.  I have come to know that that means "You have room but I am scared."  This hand wave is like what you would see from a Miss America victor, palm open, fingers up, rotating from the wrist.  Could it be "Hi there, can you see me now?” or perhaps "I am having a hot flash", or "Whew, that was close."  That last possibility spurs me to do something totally out of my sexual species’ character - politely ask directions. 

 "What the hell does 'this' mean?”, I inquire leaping out of the truck and mimicking the beauty queen wave.

 "I don't know”, she says.

 "What do you mean 'you don't know', you're the one doing it?"

 "I mean, it means 'I don't know what to tell you to do'. You have to come and take a look." 

 So, there you have it - yet another example of the dimorphism of the sexes resulting in social tension.  This time at least nothing was broken, except the mood.  Fortunately, after all these years of marriage, we have come to understand that there will be differences even if understanding those differences may be beyond the aptitude of either "species". 

 Besides, it is time for dinner and a sunset.