I spent my weekend moving firewood. Load after seemingly never ending load. There is something viscerally satisfying seeing it all stacked. Not only is there enough for this winter – but next as well. It felt instinctually good. Is that a guy thing?

I remember reading Men are from Venus and Women from Mars (or is it the other way round?). It drove me crazy because I related to the other planet more than my own. I couldn’t relate to the pigeon hole the author was stuffing men into.

A friend once observed “all guys like poking fires with sticks, throwing stones in water, and using chainsaws”. Yes, that is true, but beyond that, all bets are off.

I don’t have a cave. I like to talk. I like to share feelings. I don’t need to solve every problem. I don’t golf, fish, or have a thing for motorbikes. I like to cook – and not just on the barbeque. But, before this sounds too much like an eHarmony profile, all I’m trying to say is that I don’t fit the mold, if there actually is one. The thing is, none of the guys I know do either.

Of course it’s no different for women. I know plenty of motorbike riding, cigar smoking, salmon fishing, hockey playing, silent types.

The danger is that the assumptions and expectations play havoc not just on me, but on my relationship. It took years before we realized we were working with a map that had little resemblance to the world in which we lived. We had to ditch what we thought, and were told, and find our own way.

I am proud of my beautiful woodpile. I’m definitely a guy, through and through – just not typically so.