The Difference Between Men And Women. This Is Genius.
The Difference Between Men And Women. This Is Genius.
The Difference Between Men And Women. This Is Genius.
Let's say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He
asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A
few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy
themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while
neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to
Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize
that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six
months?"
And then, there is silence in the car.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I
wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling
confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him
into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of
relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd
have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way
we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just
going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we
heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am
I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this
person?
And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let's see...February
when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the
dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way
overdue for an oil change here.
And Martha is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm
reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our
relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even
before I sensed it - that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet
that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own
feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Fred is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission
again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting
right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this
time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting
like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Martha is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry,
too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the
way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.
And Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a
knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next
to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I
truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person
who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic
fantasy.
And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a
warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...
"Fred," Martha says aloud.
"What?" says Fred, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning
to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel
so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Fred.
"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I
really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Fred.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.
"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can,
tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that
he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Fred.
"That way about time," says Martha.
"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into
his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say
next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Fred," she says.
"Thank you," says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured
soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he
opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply
involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South
Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the
far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on
back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would
ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think
about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of
them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In
painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and
everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every
word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every
possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe
months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting
bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend
of his and Martha's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:
"Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"
And that's the difference between men and women.
No comments:
Post a Comment