After I posted my first blog entry, and my first reader (who just so happens to be my sister) read it, she had some input for me. She likes chick rock, but she pointed out that everything I said was true. And the most true thing was the reasoning for listening to chick rock, the reassuring nature of the song. She asked me a simple question, “Why is that?” My first response was “I don’t know,” and my current response is… I don’t know. But, in the interest of having some body to this entry, I think I have a good idea why. So what is it? Sexual roles. And no I don’t mean those sexual roles, get you head out of the gutter. I mean gender roles. Let’s look at something near and dear to my heart for a second. I know this is kind of a tangent, but stick with me, I am going somewhere with this. That is the wonderful and fantastic world of video gaming. Now think of your stereotypical gamer. Chances are he’s a pudgy, sloppy, non-shaving fellow who kind of looks like a hobbit and has to social skills of a troll. This fellow is one thing, and that is he is most defiantly male. Vary rarely is a female ever viewed as a “gamer.” Why? Are females not in tune with their inner geek? Are they not jive to the l33t? Do they enjoy showers too much? No, well, maybe, but those aren’t the primary reasons. No, the reason is, much like the people who play them, the games just don’t appeal to women. So now I promised this tangent was going some where, and I am a man of my word so here it is. The reason games do not appeal to women is because they do not fit their social gender role. Ahh, there’s the link up. Traditionally, when a guy gets in a dispute with another guy, our first instinct is to beat the living crap out of them. It’s the warrior mentality. And the reason men are the warriors is that we are expendable. Who cares if a man dies trying to bring in a mammoth, or fighting of a warring tribe. As long as we got one to keep our population going were good. If we got someone bringing in food and making babies we’re good. Who cares if it’s Ugh or Thug? When women get into arguments though it’s much more of a psychological game going on. They single the girl out, they destroy her socially. And here’s why, women are not expendable. Once a women is pregnant, that’s it, she’s done for 9 months. And then she has to raise the child, and only a women can raise a child. The man can do nothing other than help make the kid. I am of course talking about stone age times, currently men can do a lot to raise a kid, but before we had baby formula men lack the goods to help out. Ok, ok, so we got that women, due to biology, raise children and deal with the home front, men run around and hit things with sticks. Fantastic, what does it have to do with chick rock? It all has to do with self worth. You see men, traditionally, and we are starting to see these traditions change, but traditionally we are the bread winners. We go out and procure the means for sustenance, because again, if we don’t come back, more sperm around. So men’s self worth stems from how well we do our jobs. How effective we are at bringing home the bacon. Ever wonder why some men, who classily are not good looking are considered hot by some women? It’s because they are good at what they do. Also, being built helps. Why? Well, being fairly muscular helps you bring in food in the old time days, hence that became appealing. So let’s take a look at women. And I know this is gonna sound sexist, sorry, but I can’t change the way things were. Your jobs were to have kids and to keep the family in order. Sounds a bit like social tendencies right? That’s why the Sims is so popular with women, it deals with social hierarchies and interpersonal relations ships. Right up the ladies ally. The big problem is there is no room for measure in that role. A man comes home, slams the carcass of an animal on the table, says “Right, I’m going to go eat meat and hit things with a rock. Maybe I’ll get Ugh and Thug together and we’ll hit each other with sticks.” It’s instant gratification. We know we did our job well, we’re not dead. Women don’t have that. A women can’t really go up to society and say “so on a number between one and ten, how am I doing in terms of interpersonal relation ships.” There is no way of judging how your doing. It’s like flying blind isn’t it? Yes, traditionally women who raise the family aren’t paid, they don’t know how they are doing. And even still, women who have jobs, well the gender roles are still there. That’s over 3,000 years of training and social pressure your trying to over come. That’s a lot of pressure. Like being stepped on by an elephant holding a moose, or maybe a small moon. The pressure is just enormous. So you need reassurance. We all do; not just women, but men as well. But again, or reassurance comes in different forms, and when that fails we always have beer. So when women are feeling down in the dumps, which happens, usually at least once a month, they need to be reassured (men, take notes.). And so if no one is there they turn to what ever helps them feel better. An inspirational quote, a bowl of ice cream, glass of wine, a book and pjs, chick rock, chick lit, chick flicks, talking to friends. That’s why, it’s for reassurance.

So, is that the reason? As I stated before, I don’t know, how can we know for sure? We can’t. But I think it’s a highly likely answer. And for any men out there who just sat through this thinking “This has nothing to do with me!” Oh no, no my fellow man, for it does. You see, if you know why women listen to chick rock, then you can stop the chick rock. Yes, just think, it would be fantastic, yes? You can even replace the chick rock. When you’re girl’s feeling down, you just step in there and say “You know (insert name here), you are the most amazing person in the world, I don’t know how you do it,” then kiss her on the forehead while giving her a hug. Then you’re doing pretty good. Just, you know, don’t do anything stupid like say something you don’t mean or mention anything that can be turned against you, cus you might as well just turn on the chick rock.