Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. In the same way, breakfasts beyond corn flakes and milk are just as different.

Take pancakes and waffles. Either one is excellent with butter and syrup, with bacon, sausage, coffee, juice and milk alongside. They share the same basic genetic makeup: flour, salt, baking powder, sugar, eggs, milk and oil. They're mixed together in the same bowl to a slightly lumpy batter. The flour lumps will disappear in cooking; according to every cookbook I've ever read (and I've read quite a few), overmixing produces rubbery pancakes and tough waffles.

Pancakes are male. Unequivocally, impossibly, irrevocably male. They're Bill Haley and the Comets singing "Shake, Rattle and Roll." Just get out in that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans. Dump everything in a bowl; stir like crazy and pour it on a hot griddle. Flip when bubbles appear, brown the other side and bam! You have pancakes.

If you're really feeling macho, you can cook them in a skillet over an open fire. Hey, if Paul Bunyan can do it, man, so can you.

Waffles are female. They're Diana Ross and the Supremes singing "You Can't Hurry Love." You just have to wait and, like love, they don't come easy. They're a game of give and take, as I discovered after Jessica and her gang gave me a waffle iron for Christmas.

To confess, I've wanted a waffle iron for years.

The other day, Angie and I were enjoying a rare, lazy morning off.

"Why don't we have waffles for breakfast?" she suggested.

"Yeah," I yawned. "I want to try out that new waffle iron."

In minutes, I found a recipe in one of my many cookbooks. "Oh Boy" Waffles mixed up as quickly as any pancake batter I've ever made. Then I read the instructions that came with my new toy.

"The iron must be seasoned before first use. Brush grids with shortening or cooking oil and heat until the indicator light goes off." That took a few minutes. "Spray the grids with non-stick cooking spray before preparing each batch of waffles." Poof. Done. "Pour batter onto preheated grids. Close cover and bake 4 to 6 minutes or until steaming stops."

Proudly I poured my first batch of homemade waffles. Only after batter oozed out of the iron like lava from Mount Vesuvius, I noticed the next sentence: "Try not to overfill the grids."

That first batch looked more like "Waffles...Oh, Boy, what a mess." It was indeed a game of give and take. By learning to balance reheating the grids, pouring out the right amount of batter, and waiting for the waffles to bake completely before removing them from the iron, they actually looked like homemade waffles by the time Angie nuked a batch of bacon and sat down to eat what was now our lazy-day brunch. Even though I forgot the sugar, they tasted pretty darn good.

Diana Ross was absolutely right. You too, Phil Collins. You can't hurry love — or waffles, either.

Charles E. Geer is a Granite City resident and former radio talk show host who is father of two, and grandfather of two. Besides writing, he also enjoys cooking, drumming and talking cars with almost anyone.