Saturday, September 10, 2011

Man and Woman Converse

35 million years ago, give or take, when Fred and I were but youngsters, before we were married even, we were driving down the Garden State Parkway to head home from college for the weekend.

Me: I'm hungry. You hungry?

Fred: No.

Me: Where should we eat?

Fred: .....

Me: Oooh, I know, how 'bout a diner? I love diners. (excited, hopeful face)

Fred: I've never really cared for diners.

Me: There's one! Turn! Turn now!

Fred: turns

Me: I'm going to try to be really good because I still need to lose a bunch more weight before the wedding. So help me be good, OK?

Fred: .....

Me: (thoughtfully finishing up my salad) You know (eyes all twinkly), I don't think I'm gonna be able to help myself. Did you see the picture of that Death by Chocolate dessert they had on their menu? I'm gonna have to get it. I know I shouldn't. But I have to.

Fred: No. No, I don't think you want to do that.

Me: (with sad eyebrows) Why not? I really want to get that!

Fred: You told me to help you be good because you want to lose more weight.

Me: You think I need to lose more weight? (sad Bassett Hound puppy eyes)

Fred: That's not what I said. I said that you said that you wanted me to help you to "be good" so you could lose more weight.

Me: Well don't worry about it. (flippantly tosses hair and looks down at the table) You're off the hook. I don't need your help and I think I look OK. I'm sorry you don't think so. (sweeps crumbs off table into hand)

Fred: That's not what I said. I said.....

Me: So I'm going to order the Death by Chocolate. (back to the twinkly eyes) What are you going to get?

Fred: I really don't want anything.

Me: So you're just going to sit there across the table from me while I stuff my face? I can't do that, I'll feel like a pig, a big fat pig! (dramatic-middle-of-a-crisis face) You have to order something!

Fred: But I don't want anything.

Me: But I really wanted that dessert. I've been so good for so long so I would look pretty in our wedding for YOU and now I can't even treat myself to a bite of some chocolate.

Fred: Fine.

Me: What?

Fred: Fine. (resigned to the end of the world look) I'll get something.

Me: Oh waitress?




So why is it men complain about women being so complicated? What was complicated about that?



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