We have been enjoying a respite from the heat in the Rocky Mountains, first in Big Sky Montana, and now in Estes Park. I have not really had time to put together a proper JOW this week, but instead purloined something from Dave Berry about the differences between men and women.
From my perspective this
is how things sometimes go:
Let's say a guy named
Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. 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 Elaine,
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 Elaine, it seems like a very loud
silence.
She thinks to herself: gee, 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 Roger is thinking: gosh. Six months?
And Elaine 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 toward... 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 Roger 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 Elaine 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 Roger 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 darn garbage truck, and
I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Elaine is thinking: he's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too.
God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I
feel. I'm just not sure.
And Roger is thinking they'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's
exactly what they're gonna say, the scumbags.
And Elaine 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 Roger is thinking: warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a
warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up...
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes
beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have... Oh God, I feel
so..." (She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a fool," Elaine 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 Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.
"No!" says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that... It's that I... I need some time," Elaine says.
There is a 15-second pause while Roger, 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.
Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.
"Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Roger.
"That way about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."
Elaine 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, Roger," she says.
"Thank you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul,
and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag
of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a
re-run.
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 at all.
The next day Elaine 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, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his
and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:
"Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
