Mars and Venus: Azim and Me

They say women are from Venus. And men are from Mars.

Objection, your honour!

In my opinion, at the rate the men and women understand each other, I'd say they are from planets much further away from each other than Venus and Mars. Maybe the actual planets the two genders are from, are actually such a distance away that it commands knowledge of a whole other galaxy than the one known to us now. Maybe it's a parallel universe, vitually unknown forever, even if we are to live a million years and tell a million tales.

Why am I ranting?

I am amused. At how Adam and Eve's seedlings still don't get each other but still manage to protect, procreate and provoke each other for eons. And survive happily ever after (almost!).

Let's not let me rave. Let me reveal....

I had an ex-boyfriend who once referred to my Clinique's Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion as my yellow Obviously Dramatic Moisturizer Thingie.

I had a guy friend who picked up my toe-seperators (that I use for my DIY pedicures) and started combing his hair with it, nonchalant!

I have a brother, who used a piece from my packet of new, ultra-thin with wings Kotex Green, to polish his boots.

I have an uncle, who insisted that my lovely, floaty blue empire-line dress, looked like lacy sleepwear for old grannies from the good ol' English countryside.

This is in addition to bad answers for tautological questions like "Is she prettier than me?", "Did you just stare at her boobs?!" and the mother of all Venus flytrap questions; "Do I look fat in this skirt/dress/pants/earrings?".

Oh....do I have to go on? You know that I mean now.... (cue in cacophony of fellow females shrieking bloody murder coupled with collective male groans of despair!)

With Azim, I wanted to spare him (and myself) the pain of aforementioned crimescenes and scenarios. Therefore, I patiently guide him through female product and clothing terminology and pre-set answers to scary questions. In return, he explains to me complicated male stuff like why a man's schlong has a mind of it's own yet how that does not spell infidelity, what is a Corvette's horsepower and what the heck is horsepower, why it is never good to question a man's girth and so on. I do like this little arrangement we have and so far, I think it's been going quite well.

Until.......

Azim (on a call from Hongkong): Hello Honey! I miss you many many!

Me (groggy from interrupted sleep): Hello Honey! sdgoivnoaigahrgoinvksvnvjvhnajknv.......
I miss you so much too! What's up?

Azim: Remember the shoes you really wanted to get but they didn't have your size? The tiger's claw ones? They have it here! You want me to get it for you?

Me (jolted rudely from stupor): TIGER'S CLAW shoes?

Azim: Yeah...the black ones.....

Me (heart starts racing):TIGER'S CLAW SHOES?? What the heck are tiger's claw shoes? Honey, are you okay?

Azim (starting to get impatient):Yah...yah! I'm okay! Alaaaah....the shoes...the black ones that we saw just last week. The one with the tiger's claw! You loved it tapi takde size!

Me: Honey, I KNOW what I love and it ain't no shoes with tiger's claw tau! Apa nie? Last week....I tried that black pair of shoes from Gucci! Mana ada nampak weird shoes with tiger's claw?!

Azim: Yah! YAH!!! Gucci shoes lah! That one! That's the one you call the shoe with the tiger's claw heel or something, kan?!!

Me (hitting realization and then, quietly amused at my confused fiance): Honey....I think what you mean is kitten heel shoes. KITTEN HEEL! Alamaaaak.....how can you go so far from Kitten Heel to Tiger's Claw?!! (starts laughing uncontrollably)

Azim (I imagine him turning red at this point): Yahlaah....yang itu lah...kitten heel lah...cat's poo laah...whatever. It's all so confusing. So do you want to go on laughing and not get your shoes or do you want to stop laughing and let me get the shoes for you? Hmph....

..................

The conversation went on a wee bit longer as we each used our respective planetary language to try to get each other to understand what the other is saying and hopefully, get me those shoes.

As you can see, as sweet as Azim is, he is, after all, just one of Adam's own. And the men just don't get it. But I'm proud that my man is trying to. And I love him for it. But his attempts do offer some gentle comedy that sets me off laughing racously. Heh.

So you see, how can we be from planets of the same galaxy? It must be some nether-universe at the beginning of an unknown end.

Houston, we have a problem!