Happy Old Men
A new survey of Americans described on Livescience.com concludes that “Less able to achieve their life goals, women end up unhappier than men later in life, even though they start out happier.”
No real surprise there when you think about it, but I’ll bet it has less to do with achieving life goals than it does with facts of history: most old men, (me, for example) get to putter around the house, tinkering with stuff and leaving messes in their wake; lots of old women, by contrast, have spent their entire lives putting up with the jerk and now, to boot, he’s underfoot all the time, messing up the sewing kit and generally making a nuisance of himself.
Or maybe that’s just the stereotype I picked up from reading the unfunny comic “Drabble.”
Another explanation might have something to do with the cultural expectations around appearance laid on women as opposed to men: after all, an old guy can look like a broiled chicken in a polyester pantsuit and still be considered presentable just as long as he cleans the food out of his beard and changes his underwear occasionally. An older woman, on the other hand, is expected to be some smoking hot MILF until the day she finally gives up the ghost—and even then, better leave a beautiful corpse.
Frankly, I’m skeptical of these kind of surveys, anyway. Maybe old men just lie to researchers more (or better) than old women; or maybe they’re just not as introspective and so fail to notice how unhappy they are.
Around our house, it’s not entirely clear whether the old men are happier than the old women; one thing is for sure, though: any reference to “old women” from the old man will certainly result in a reduction of his happiness.
Ideally, we should all be happier the older we get; in any case, I’m sure that if I make it, as hoped, to 112, I’ll be delirious.
No real surprise there when you think about it, but I’ll bet it has less to do with achieving life goals than it does with facts of history: most old men, (me, for example) get to putter around the house, tinkering with stuff and leaving messes in their wake; lots of old women, by contrast, have spent their entire lives putting up with the jerk and now, to boot, he’s underfoot all the time, messing up the sewing kit and generally making a nuisance of himself.
Or maybe that’s just the stereotype I picked up from reading the unfunny comic “Drabble.”
Another explanation might have something to do with the cultural expectations around appearance laid on women as opposed to men: after all, an old guy can look like a broiled chicken in a polyester pantsuit and still be considered presentable just as long as he cleans the food out of his beard and changes his underwear occasionally. An older woman, on the other hand, is expected to be some smoking hot MILF until the day she finally gives up the ghost—and even then, better leave a beautiful corpse.
Frankly, I’m skeptical of these kind of surveys, anyway. Maybe old men just lie to researchers more (or better) than old women; or maybe they’re just not as introspective and so fail to notice how unhappy they are.
Around our house, it’s not entirely clear whether the old men are happier than the old women; one thing is for sure, though: any reference to “old women” from the old man will certainly result in a reduction of his happiness.
Ideally, we should all be happier the older we get; in any case, I’m sure that if I make it, as hoped, to 112, I’ll be delirious.
posted by Professor Dave at 10:17 AM
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