Simple, Delicious, and Healthy Creations to Feed your Family
Thursday, April 3, 2014
On Birthdays and Boys.
My birthday was this past weekend. Let's just say that my expectations were not met by my husband. We've been together over half of our lives and I thought we knew each other pretty well. I do not wish to publicly malign him, but I will say my birthday lacked anything celebratory. Now, this is partly my fault. He asked if he could take me out for dinner. But, it was pouring, we'd had a volleyball tournament all day, and the girls' had a friend over. Plus, I wanted something more. Something planned out, considerate, extravagant (but inexpensive), and special.
Let's just say that there were tears (mine) and a 10:30pm trip to Wal-Mart (him).
I don't know where he found this little story, but he sent it to me last night -
The Difference Between Men And Women.........
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.
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
And then, there is silence in the car.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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?"