It’s All In The Brain

Recently I read about a fascinating two-question study that demonstrates how people who tend to be “liberal” or “conservative” are actually wired differently. It’s all in the brain.

The questions:

• Would you slap your father during a skit if he gave you permission?
• Does it disgust you to touch the faucet in a public restroom?

If you answered yes to the first and no to the second, you’re more likely to be liberal. With conservatives the answers are usually reversed.

Why? Conservatives are more likely to be impressed by authority, and more easily disgusted by anything that could be considered less-than-hygenic. With liberals, it’s the opposite.

That’s not right or wrong. It just is.

Reading this, you might have a gut reaction that it IS right or wrong. That’s the point. Whichever way you’re wired, you’ll probably respond in kind.

Similarly, we know that men’s and women’s brains are wired differently. The portion of the brain that women use for relationships, for example, is about the size of a grapefruit. In men it’s about the size of a walnut.

Men and women find things in space differently, too. Men tend to use direction and measurement, while women tend to use landmarks. Women can locate the mustard in the refrigerator, while a man may never see it even though he’s looking right at it.

Using my astute powers of male observation, it seems to me that another huge difference between men and women is compartments.

Most of the women I know love compartments. My female cousin, for example, sells baskets. Every shape and size, and for any purpose. Every room in her house contains boatloads of baskets. It’s like that Star Trek episode with tribbles, but in her case it’s baskets. Nothing is lying around loose. Everything is in a basket. Even other baskets.

Another friend has a tall container in her garage made specifically to hold….rolls of gift-wrapping paper! The women reading this are thinking, Yeah, so? And the men are thinking, That’s a joke, right? Because this would never even occur to a guy. Why would someone use valuable time and energy to design and manufacture — or buy — containers for gift wrap, when you could easily shove it in a closet or under the couch and, say, go watch a ballgame? (And eat a hot dog. With mustard. If you can find it.)

She also has a tray on her dining table containing smaller trays and holders for the salt and pepper, napkins, and I forget what else. Her containers are lined with containers. Everything has its own little nest.

If you’ve ever been invited to a Tupperware party, you probably don’t have a Y chromosome.

Suppose you’re a male. And suppose you want to know what it’s like to feel like an alien from another planet. Just walk into one of those Organized Living stores by yourself. The women will stare at you in disbelief. Eventually they’ll decide you’re gay. I know. I’ve done it.

A man only needs one compartment. It’s called the house. He can have a couple of sub-compartments like the garage or basement. But basically, if it’s in the house, he thinks he can find it.

Occasionally the car can become a compartment. Especially if the man is a slob and his wife isn’t. My grandfather’s old Valiant was visible proof of the chaos theory: Camel cartons, sacks of horehound drops, tools, locks, keys, dirty clothes, spare hats, half-eaten snacks, newspapers, ancient magazines, cash receipts, branding irons for cattle, and 30 or 40 pounds of farm dust and fertilizer. A man’s car is his castle.

For reasons that should be obvious, he also had a separate bedroom from my grandmother. His bedside table was littered with a mind-boggling disarray of almost as much junk, including an impressive collection of back scratchers.*

*They were not neatly arranged in a tray or a basket.

If you’ve seen “Defending The Caveman,” the hilarious (and hugely successful) one-man play by Rob Becker, you know what I”m talking about. The brilliant thing about this play is that Becker manages to poke fun at men and women, and our reactions to each other, while remaining respectful of both sexes. So nobody is offended, everybody is entertained and educated. We leave the play more aware and accepting of each other, while having laughed our butts off for a couple of hours.

The point is, we’re different. Men, women, liberal, conservative, gay, straight. We’re wired that way. It’s in the brain. Someone needs to write a play that does for liberals and conservatives what Defending The Caveman does for men and women.

Because the way around the brain is through the funnybone.

And the heart.

© 2009 Greg Tamblyn, male person