As I sit here in the confines of my candlelit room – no, I'm not being romantic or getting lucky (or else I wouldn't be writing these lines, would I?), just trying to save a bit on my Electrabel bill – and wondering when the bloody sun will start shining in this town. Endless winters really upset my split personality.

Now I'm thinking of boys and girls.

Nope! Not talking about any cheap bi fling, you pervert crumb....

Just realized I've been swearing a lot lately. I Wonder why!

Truth is I've been spending most of my time hanging out with my male friends – just one of the joys of being single. And I've actually learned a lot about myself... well, mainly about some basic differences between boys and girls. Of course the safest prediction is that guys tend go for Duvel, while girls prefer fruity ones. But the beer-preference stereotype collapses completely when, for instance, they're both broke; in which case Stella is the only option. But there are more intriguing distinctions.

Consider this.

Two girlfriends bump into each other in town; the conversation might go like this:

"Hi, darling! How are you doing? Long time, no see!

"Hey, gorgeous! I'm ok, you know! Whatever! I miss you so much..." bla bla bla....

"Oh, what a LOVELY pair of shoes. You won't believe it – actually I've got a pair just like yours."

"REALLY! They're awesome, aren't they?"

The rest of the conservation you can imagine.

All that small talk about clothes, handbags, lipsticks, Lady 'Skunk' Gaga, Justine 'Littlefag' Bieber, boys in general (I mean "real" boys), and so on; until the girls realize they're both late for class.... a good excuse to say so long, farewell.

But the first girl just can't wait to tell her other girlfriends the HORRIBLE news: "Jane, that jealous horsefaced cunt, has got a pair of shoes just like mine... how embarrassing...."

Now two male friends meet.

"Peter!" Then louder, "PEEETER!"

Peter can't hear. He's totally aloof trying to figure out who he's shagging later on. But John won't give it up that easy. There goes his best mate. So he shouts even louder:

"Hey, MOTHERFUCKER!"

The whole Oude Markt turns around thinking it's with them; including Peter, of course, who replies instantly, "Hey you son of a bitch!"

They shake hands and catch up, "What's up, you little queer?"

"Nothing much, bastard!"

"So, Downtown Jack this weekend?"

"Game, bro, game!"

Some more swearing, another weird handshake (or perhaps a new Neanderthal greeting), and the boys are on their separate ways....

Next male pal the first guy meets, he'll comment, "Hey, guess who I just met?"

"Do I look like a fucking mind reader, you douchebag?"

"Peter, you mofa!"

"PETER! REALLY! I love that guy."

"Yeah! He's a bloody cool dude. By the way, we're heading to 'DJ' Friday night."

"I'm in, bro, I'm in!" Yep, repeating words is almost a male ritual.

Do you see my point? I hope so. No? Whatever!

Now, how many ways are there for a girlfriend to pretend to be your best friend?

Haha! Easier to count varieties of beer in Belgium....

And then I was asleep.