No doubt that, since the dawn of time men have been shaking their heads and asking themselves ‘why do women worry so much?’ What is it that keeps them awake at night? Why are they constantly searching around for something worry about? Is it genetic, a social construct, or is it an evolutionary conspiracy, an elaborate plot to keep the world spinning?
My own answer is, in part at least, that women were made to do our (men’s) worrying for us, thus keeping our minds free to concentrate on more efficient ways of killing each other, to name just one technological example.
I suspect that, while the answer to the question of why women worry may be as elusive as a mobile phone signal in the English countryside, one certain thing is that women have elevated worrying to an art form. So, taking a deep breath, let us plunge into the labyrinthine world of female fretting and try to uncover what makes women the undisputed champions of worry.
Some say that women are born with a special gene that predisposes them to worry. This gene, (genus Maximus Worrius) is believed to be associated with the gene that makes them remember every single detail of an argument from thirty years ago. Evolution is also involved: while men were busy perfecting their ability to ignore that pile of laundry in the corner, women were busy worrying about everything from global cooling/warming, whether they left the iron on, or switched the oven off, where they put the door keys.
Women are natural multitaskers, within the limits of domestic science, and with this comes great responsibility. Imagine juggling a wriggling baby and arranging a coffee morning with the other mothers from the anti-natal group while cooking apple crumble for that hungry bastard who shows no appreciation and who better fix that leaking tap the minute he gets home or he’ll get crumble all right, all at the same time.
And then add a mental checklist of grocery items, a reminder to call the dentist, and a nagging suspicion that the car has developed a squeak only she can hear, while creating a list of grievances and misdemeanours noticed in the last few days, such as the lavatory seat being left up, or down, or whichever way it is that is wrong. Welcome to the mind of a woman.
The ability to think about a million things at once while having opinions on all of them regardless of how much is known about the subject, and even having several opinions on the same subject, often contradictory, is a wondrous thing. It is both a blessing and a curse, leading to a constant state of low-level anxiety that can only be alleviated by a glass of wine and a good cry and, in my household, a good cuddle, unless the reason for the crying is me.
And it all seems to have got worse, doesn’t it, with so much more to worry about? I blame social media, which women obviously take much more seriously than men. This has given our ladies a whole new set of worries to contend with. From the pressure to post the perfect selfie to the fear of missing out on the latest trends, social media is a veritable minefield of anxiety-inducing content. Did old school friend Karen just get divorced? If so, why? Did someone post a picture of their perfectly organised pantry? Cue the panic about your own chaotic kitchen. Social media is like a never-ending episode of "Keeping Up with the Joneses," and women are the reluctant stars. And God help us when a dog or cat goes missing, and the women of the local community WhatsApp group go into over-drive and work themselves up to a heightened state of hysteria.
Now this next one doesn’t apply to all women, at least much less than before, judging by the clip of some the females I see wandering around, heading for Lidl in their pyjamas or skin tight hosiery stretched over out of control fat (are we still allowed to use that word?), but traditionally, one of the greatest sources of worry for women is "What am I going to wear?" Whatever the occasion, from a trip to a supermarket or a friend’s wedding, the fear of being underdressed, overdressed, or just dressed plain wrong is enough to send most women into a tailspin and their man to the bottle. Tell the truth lads, how often do you tell the truth when your lass asks what you think of her outfit? And even if you do tell the truth, does she take any notice?
And let's not even think of getting started on the existential crisis that is her hair. On dear me no. Not that.
Moving on, women are notorious for worrying about their health, and for good reason: they are always going wrong, usually at the worst possible time. With WebMD at her fingertips (no, I’m not giving you a link), every minor ache and pain escalates into a full-blown medical drama. A headache? Must be a brain tumour. A sore throat? Definitely the plague. Women have a unique ability to diagnose themselves with the rarest and most exotic diseases, thanks to access to medical websites on the internet. It's a wonder any of them ever make it to the doctor without having a full-blown panic attack in the waiting room. Speaking of which, when you are next driven to respond to her worries, reminding her that you are not a doctor and she should make an appointment. She won't. She just wants to talk about it. And when she complains of being tired all the time, remind her of the old saying: "a day of worry is more exhausting than a week of work."
And when you do talk about her worrying, it soon becomes apparent that she worries about you not worrying so much. What’s wrong with him? Why’s he not worried about it, the bastard just doesn’t care, that’s why, she thinks.
In truth, I think that women also worry so much because they care so much. They care about their families, their friends (most of the time), their appearance, global warming, global cooling, the next pandemic and yes, their hair. While the reasons for their worry may be varied and sometimes downright hilarious, one thing is certain: the world would be a much less interesting place without the worry warriors. So, the next time you see your woman fretting over something insignificant, just remember, she's not just worrying for herself, she's worrying for you, for your children and grandchildren, for all of us. And for that, we should all be grateful.
To conclude, I’m aware that I haven’t got anywhere near the real cause women worry so much, so if you have any idea, please tell me below.