The Unspoken Dialogue
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 . . . 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 damn 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 scumballs.
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
damn 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.)
''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 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.
(This
is also Roger's policy regarding world hunger.)
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?''