I believe I’ve made a discovery. I don’t believe that it’s of significant importance to the future of the World, or will greatly alter life as we know it, but if anything, it might just ensure that a whole lot of individuals sleep better at night. Or perhaps, just ensure that I sleep better at night – and as an insomniac, that’s a welcome thought!
I have discovered that there’s a major discrepancy adding to the generations old “war” between the sexes – and perhaps, and this is a novel idea, it even may have played a role in launching the whole war in the first place. I can practically hear your gasps as you find yourself unable to stop reading – I’ve intrigued you, drawn you in, and left you wanting to know, just what is this “thing” that’s caused years and years of angst between men and women? And why is it relevant to me?
Because it is. It’s come to my attention that we human beings are decidedly shocking at saying what we mean, meaning what we say, and doing what we say we will. And it’s THIS that has motivated years of miscommunication between the sexes. Yes, who knew? It’s truly that simple. Allow me to demonstrate.
You’re at a bar, and you’re with friends. You have no alternative motives other than to share a decent evening with friends. You offer to buy the first round – clearly testimony to how good a mood you’re in – and you saunter off to the bar. You people watch whilst you wait, amusing yourself at the rants and raves of drunken students around you. You smile and as you look forward towards to barman who seems not to notice the undeniably magnetic allure of your push-p bra, he catches your eye. He smiles at you, presumingly in response to the grin that you already had plastered to your face.
Thereafter a night ensues in which you are thoroughly charming, mixed with just the right combination of flirtatious and friendly, if you do say so yourself. I mean, if you were hitting on you, you’d be smitten! And this friendly chap whose managed to find you in the crowds three times thus far seems to be just that. He walks you to your car, you dawdle, taking your time to find the car keys, drawing out the moments right before he leans in and kisses you – a moment you both know is inevitable. And as luck would have it, the kiss is excellent. A delightfully electric cherry on the top of the chocolate Sundae that is your Saturday night. After swapping numbers, you drive home, quite content with the way things have turned out.
Until three weeks later, when you’ve yet to have meet up again with this surprising Saturday smooch. Sure, you’ve texted once or twice, but the extent of this hasn’t extended past the appearance of his name on your cell phone screen. And that’s when I began to wonder. I mean, I’m not retarded. I grasp the concept of one night kisses with men who I’ll never see again – I’m not proud of it, but don’t pretend it hasn’t happened to you at least once. Point is, there should be signs and signals that this is the case. If I’m nothing but a fun flirtation for a few hours, then so be it. But then don’t ask for my number, don’t text me the minute we’ve said goodbye, and don’t then continue to text me weekly (or worse, nightly) for the next few weeks without any mention of ever meeting up again!!
It’s from this, and other little case studies, that I’ve resolved the dissolution between the sexes. I know, sheer genius. Point is, I think we’d all be a lot better off with a fresh dose of brutal honesty. Perhaps human kind needs to take to sign language to an entirely new level – making use of hand signals, for example, that will flag what it is we’re looking for, what it is we’re open to, and whether we’re even attracted to one another. And in the mean time, keep it simple, stupid. Don’t ask for my number unless you plan to use it as a means by which to actually SEE me again. Don’t tell me “we should meet up again” without any mention of whether it’ll be this century or not. And to push the point using a phrase that a dear friend recently taught me, stop teacup-pigging me.