Men are Men - Women Are a Whole Experience

Men are Men — Women Are (A Whole Experience)

When you’re a woman, you can count on at least one thing—you’ll spend a good chunk of your life-giving advice. It’s like we’re born with an invisible sign that says, “Tell me your problems, I’ll overthink them with you.”

Men? It seems like they don’t really play that game. They think, decide, and move on. End of story.

We, on the other hand, hold strategy sessions, phone a friend (or ten), journal about it, analyze the dream we had about it, then rehash it again over wine with someone who already told us what we should do two weeks ago.

Men seem to look at a problem like a rock in the road. They pause, maybe tilt their head, and think, “Hmm. Step over it? Go around it? Kick it?” Then they pick one and move on with their day.

Women? We circle the rock. We wonder who put it there. We text a picture of it to our friends. We ask Google or AI what kind of rock it is and whether Mercury in retrograde had anything to do with it showing up in our path. Then we write a caption about “trusting the journey” before realizing we’re still standing in the same spot.

It’s not that one way is better—it’s just different. Men are wired for efficiency; women are wired for connection. They process quietly; we process out loud. They compartmentalize; we color-code then over analyze the color.

Men think, “What’s the next step?”
Women think, “But what does this mean?”

And honestly, both approaches work. Men get stuff done; women make sure everyone’s okay while it’s getting done. We feel our way through things. We want to understand the why before the what. And yes, we sometimes stew—because the stew is where our heart catches up to our head. Sort of a “where left brain meets right brain.”

A while back, my daughter called having one of those “blah” weeks. You know the kind—when nothing’s terribly wrong, but everything just feels off. So, I told her, “Grab your flip-flops and come over. It’s a perfect day for the pool.”

A few hours later, we were sitting poolside—our feet in the water, sweaty margaritas on the table, and the sun high in the sky. We talked for hours about life, choices, and all the rocks we seem to trip over along the way.

When she started looping through the same worry for the third time, I finally said, “Honey, sometimes you just have to accept things as they are or make the hard decision not to.”

She sighed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means sometimes you see a rock in the road, and you just have to decide—are you stepping over it, going around it, or bringing it home as décor? Then move along.”

She nodded, still quiet, lost in thought. I pulled out a bottle of polish for our DIY pedicures. It was a bold ocean blue.

We had sat in this same spot hundreds of times before but today was different— painting our toes like it was some sort of sacred ceremony—sunshine, margaritas, laughter, and tears—and a little unspoken healing.

When the polish dried, she looked down at her feet and asked, “So… why the blue toes?”

“Because every time you look down, you’ll remember this day—our chat, the rock, and the choices you have. And I think that will make you happy.”

Of course, that wasn’t the end of it. She stewed over that “rock” for weeks. We kept circling back to it in a dozen conversations—just like girls do. And then one day, quietly, she stepped over it.

It’s been more than fifteen years since that June afternoon, and we still send each other photos of our fresh blue pedicures now and then. It’s like our secret code: There’s a rock in the road, or I love you, or I’m in my happy place.

While quick decision making has its appeal, I’ll always love being a woman who takes her time, feels her way through, and paints her toes blue anyway.

Shelli Netko © 2025