The Difference Between Men and Women
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: Geez,
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...let me 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 going to 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 and this thing is shifting like a
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.
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...the
rats!
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
their...
"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.
When Roger 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
tennis match
between two Czechoslovakians he 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 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?"
And that's the difference between men and women.