Now here’s something I don’t understand… have never understood… will never… etc. (Parentheses – it’s beginning to dawn on me that there are quite a lot of things that I don’t understand !!)
Women and rocks. I’m not talking about my sixth form Geology teacher. Hilarious wild -haired Scottish woman. Really, really into rocks. The fossil type. The sedimentary kind. The extruded ones. Not so much the super hard shiny ones. She was such a Geologist, that all other elements of scientific interest seemed to her to be not really worth a mention. For example, all life forms were referred to as “beasties” (in a Scottish accent). Just beasties. Didn’t matter if it was a woolly mammoth or a gnat – it was a beastie.
I’m thinking here more along the lines of women talking about jewellery. Um… oh God how fucking boring is that. Some women can bang on for hours and hours about what type of engagement / wedding / anniversary ring they want / got. I’ve never been engaged; and I guess it’s redundant to say that I’ve also never been married or anniversaried. Now – make of that what you will. But, I’m pretty confident that were I ever to be engaged / married / anniversaried, then my primary focus would not ever be drawn to the discussion of rocks.
I’ve heard women go on for ages and ages about baguette diamonds, cluster settings, emerald cut or sapphire cut….
“Are you going for the white gold or the platinum?”
“Gosh, such a difficult choice, isn’t it”
My ever so cynical mind goes…
“Um, no I don’t think it is… why don’t you just go for the one that’s going to cost your boyf / partner / fiancé / husband more money, so that then you can talk loudly about how much it cost, and he can do that thing that men do – that inverted pride thing – where he “complains” about how much money you’re costing him, whilst actually being proud of you costing him money, because it appeals to his ego, and possibly to his primal need to provide for and protect you. Even though I think the primal feeling is really meant for life and death scenarios where he ensures that his woman and his offspring are sufficiently fed, watered, sheltered, and not eaten by a sabre toothed tiger.
Also, it’s a metal. So what. Big Stretch…. yyyyaaaawwwwnnnn.
To the rocks. It’s blue, or it’s green, or white or yellow or pink, or whatever, and it’s a nice hard shiny stone. Great. I don’t mind shiny stones, they’re kind of pretty I guess, but more interesting are the forces which created them (Mrs Scottish “Beastie” Geology Teacher would be pleased, “Och Aye The Noo, something did go into her head” !!)
I sure as heck don’t ascribe any exorbitant value to them. It’s a pretty rock. That’s all. It is not worth remortgaging your house for. It is not worth not having an entire plethora of other stuff, that could be useful, or helpful to you and your family in the course of your daily lives. It is not worth not having leisure in order to pay for a shiny rock. It’s not worth not giving some money to a worthy charity for.
And it really doesn’t warrant much in the way of discussion or conversation. It’s a rock.
Also, it’s a symbol – it is symbolic of Love. It really shouldn’t matter if it’s a Coke can ring-pull. (or Pepsi, or any other leading brand of cola)
Sorry, but am I the only woman who thinks like this? Am I actually a man, in this respect?
Do men think that the whole obsession with shiny metal and shiny rocks is simply mental?
It drives me nuts. There are so many more interesting things to talk about than shiny rocks and how much they cost. It’s just in such bad taste to bang on about money in this way. It’s soooooo ’80’s aspirational. We’re not all watching ‘Wall Street’ any more, and Michael Douglas is Igneous and married to some Welsh woman.