Whoops, My Venus Is Showing Through My Mars

By now you’ve learned the same irrevocable truth I have — when the pendulum of history swings far enough in one direction, it is bound to swing back just as hard in the opposite.

To date, here’s the deal with that pendulum. Venus has been having a string of smashing victories with some of those long deferred dreams of equal-rights-for-women, gun-controls-in-schools, mothers-against-concussions, feminists-demanding Goodell resign, and in general an awakened sense of the gentler side of our nature.

How long can it be before the Mars in men roars back a mighty: “Enough!”

The spirit of John Wayne and the films of Clint Eastwood hover furiously over every male locker room in our Western world. Outside the doors, the boys diplomatically smile “yes” at PTA meetings, oh but inside these towel-snapping citadels of male testosterone simmers a rising resentment. As one of them belly-bumped me and roared, “They don’t understand the real world,” I just knew the next dinner party might be the one where the pendulum hits the fan. I didn’t want to be around to watch the pieces fly.

But then the Venus in me could be betraying my gender. Good lord, my Mars may be starting to think my Venus has a place in my heart after all. Yes, yes I believe it does. Well…just so long as I don’t show it off in the locker room.

 

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