After 24 years of marriage, I’ve learned something that I think is quite profound.

Men and women are different.

Particularly when it comes to friendship.

Women talk. When two women are friends, they say everything that needs to be said and then some. They vent, they chatter, they express their feelings.

On the other hand, men attempt to get through life saying as little as possible, once they learn that talking usually gets them in trouble. Two men friends prefer communicating with competitive burps. Watching a sports blooper DVD together seals a friendship, especially if they laugh at the same parts. Feeble attempts at verbal communication may occur during emergencyies (fire) or when complaining about women.

Generally speaking of course. Every now and then two men will develop a relationship that is, well, different.

My husband Seth has a friend. Named Jake.

Jake is twenty-something years old, married to Rachel. He is young and wrinkle-free, infused with the energy of youth. He’s just starting that upward climb on life’s journey, the peak of middle-age still decades away, too far away to clearly see. His brain is full of ambition, and his garage is full of shiny new power tools.

Jake is ready to unleash his youthful vigor and his jigsaw. He wants to hammer and drill and measure. He wants calluses on his hands. He wants to build something. Something BIG.

Meet my husband Seth.

Forty-something, he has slipped and fallen over the peak of middle-age and is sliding downward on the other side, on his butt, digging in with both heels to slow his descent. His knees hurt, he makes interesting noises when he ties his shoes, and his hair is thinning. His power cords have electrical tape over the bare spots, his saw blades are rusty. We actually weed eat around something he left in the yard last fall. The shed needs painting, and since the shed door won’t latch, he repaired it with a cement block propped in front of it. If he could, he would hire a contractor to change the light bulbs.

Seth still has calluses on his hands. He is also developing calluses in other places.

However, being forty-something, Seth does know how to build things. And I wanted a new pergola, and he wanted a deck.

So I promised him a special reward if he would make the whole thing a do-it-himself project. A special reward every evening for two weeks straight.

Seth will do about anything for some good butter pecan ice cream served up on a regular basis.