‘I did not know men did this!’: The very surprising thing I’ve just learnt about blokes

I came across some men talking when I was out walking the other day and I could not believe what they were saying, writes Fran Whiting.

Frances Whiting. Picture: David Kelly

The other day I was on a walk with my dog Wilson when something very out of the ordinary happened. Wilson came when I called him. No, it wasn’t that, although that is very rare. Something else. Something strange. Something that made me stop in my tracks. Voices. Men’s voices.

And because I am a world champion eavesdropper – please, there’s a reason I became a journalist – I can relate the entire conversation. Or at least the part I heard while I was crouching down behind a bush pretending to untangle the lead from Wilson’s leg.

From a path not too far below this is what I heard: “Did you see Glen at the party?” “Oh mate, couldn’t miss him.” “Couldn’t miss the gold chain, you mean.” “What about the shirt?” “Mate, if he’d had any more buttons undone, he could have been a stripogram.”

“Wait a minute,” I said into Wilson’s ear from my crouching position. “Wait a minute, are these men … bitching?”

“Wait a minute, are these men … bitching?”

This was new territory for me, because I know a lot of men (braggart) and I have never heard a conversation like this between them.

And I know it is not the nicest of words, but bitching is what they most certainly were doing. About Glen. With the undone buttons. And the gold chain that apparently made him look like a sad, suburban rapper. And here’s the thing, I did not know men did this. I did not know that men walked in groups and gossiped about other men.

Women do it all the time – oh look, there’s no use pretending, girls, we do, or at least we do until we mature a bit, grow out of it, and talk about how tired we all are instead, but men? As I said, I had not heard this sort of language from their mouths previously.

These men, however, were having a – now what is the technical term for it? Oh yes, a bitchfest. These men were going to town on Glen, who not only had been committing crimes against fashion at the party, but was also apparently “tuning” all the women there.

“Oh, this just gets better,” I whispered to Wilson from my spot behind the bush. “Also, who says ‘tuning’ any more, was this party in 1974?”

I found the whole exchange fascinating, because as I said, I did not think men spoke about other men in this way, in the same way I think they don’t collect any relevant information about each other on a night out.

For example, recently a couple we know welcomed a baby, and my husband John went out with the new father for a drink to celebrate. But when he came home and I asked him the baby’s name, he said, “Bella something”.

Women all over Australia are now shaking their heads. Because we know that if it had been us having that drink we would have come home armed with Bella’s full name, hair colour, birth weight, sleep times, feeding patterns, and the exact location of any birthmarks.

Now, before you all start sending me strongly worded letters about gender stereotyping, I am prepared to be wrong on this. How wrong? As wrong as Glen’s snakeskin belt.