Gender, shmender—we are all equal and should be able to accomplish any and all tasks with similar accuracy and efficiency, right? So wrong. Ever sent your man to the grocery store?
I once requested my beau to run out for some typical Sunday football grub—chips and dip, pizza, chicken wings, the works. Stuff one can’t mess up, if one’s a woman. Upon his arrival, I dug through the bags: chips, salsa, pretzels, pizza bites, beer, drumsticks. Drumsticks? In his words, “Same thing—drumsticks are just larger wings.” Oh, the logic. First of all, different body parts. Second—and yes, I had to Google the following to win the heated debate that followed the drumstick discovery—chicken wings are white meat, whereas drumsticks are dark. But, so not the point. Who serves drumsticks as a substitute for wings?
As I later found out, he saw the drumsticks first, so why keep looking? And maybe, just maybe, he may have a point. When I go to the store and stare at the never-ending options of, for instance, cereal, I curse the world and wish I was more like a man—grab and go. Instead, I conquer my internal battle by re-reading the labels of several of the tastiest-yet-healthiest-looking boxes, then throw at least two in my cart, hoping upon my wait in line, I can make the ultimate decision. Unfortunately, my full-proof method often backfires and I end up with both, because by the time I get to the checkout line, I have so many other doubled-up items to decide upon. Plus, all the decision-making keeps me in the store for hours. So, I think I have just come to the only reasonable conclusion—it’s time men take on the grocery shopping burden. If they can do it in half the time and half the effort (granted, with half the accuracy), I am willing to serve whatever surprise produce makes its way from the grocery store into our kitchen.
Vicky fills the shoes of local Carrie Bradshaw in CandiDates, a blog about her own quest to explore the intricacies of relationships. Originally from Kiev, Ukraine, she has made Denver her home and playground. A writer and copy editor for 303 Magazine by day, Vicky spends her nights pursuing her passion of ballroom dance.