A Guy Thing

Scene: The kitchen, where HOUSEMATE is discussing her boyfriend, who will soon be choosing between offers of PhD positions in the States.

HOUSEMATE: He hasn't told his family anything yet – he says he'll let them know once he's decided and everything's settled. They were Skyping and he didn't even give a hint. I don't know how he does it! I can't imagine not telling anyone, I mean, why not?
ME: Oh I dunno, I would totally do that.
HOUSEMATE: I think it must be a guy thing.
ME: Last time I checked I was definitely female.
OTHER HOUSEMATE: It's such a guy thing.

My mum likes to make sweeping generalisations about malekind, easily 50% of which describe me, too. I'm good at maps and spatial skills, derive great satisfaction from systemisation, do the sniff test, like roughing it, fix my own bicycle and computer, appreciate directness, don't care for love stories, own a small number of exclusively sensible shoes, and am always ready with an 'actually.'

Today the BBC reported on a woman who has constructed a permanent 1939 for herself. Forgive me, but ... isn't that sort of idiosyncrasy generally regarded as 'a guy thing'? (This is why I live in a shared house; the regulating presence of other people keeps me from going the full Sherlock.)

Maybe ... MAYBE ... gender as a factor of identity, rather than biology, is in fact an entirely nebulous thing, consisting of nothing but grey areas, and both sides – yes, BOTH sides, militant internet feminists – should stop thinking of behaviour patterns as 'guy things' or suggesting that ladies who like/do them are sexually divergent or playing into the patriarchy's imposed value system.

I'm not going to hold my breath.