The
Difference Between Men and Women
One evening when Elaine and Roger
are driving home from being with some Saints, a thought
occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it
aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been
married for exactly five months?"
And then there is silence in the car.
To Elaine, 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 frustrated by our relationship; maybe he
thinks I'm trying to push him into buying me a gift that he
doesn't want to give me, or isn't sure of what to get.
And Roger is thinking: Man. Five months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want to
start functioning that way, either. I mean, where are we
going? Are we going to be able to sustain this pace? Every
five months? The math doesn't work... but in some ways it
would be nice. Special. Maybe just dinner out, or doing the
dishes. But if he really loved me he would do those things
anyway. So, maybe gifts IS a good idea. But where will it
lead?
And what about the children, when we have children? What
will they think? What will they expect? 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 got married, 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 commitment; maybe he
has sensed, even before I sensed it, that I was feeling some
reservations about the gifts. I didn't mention anything
about gifts, but that should be obvious to him. Anyone would
know that's what I was thinking. 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 guys 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 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... can you believe those guys?
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic,
waiting for him to be a knight to come riding up on his
white horse. Why do I feel this way, 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. He may not be a knight the way I want
him to be, but he's a good person. A person who is in pain
because of my selfcentered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? Yea, right. This is
America. There's always a catch. Always small print or some
lawyer's clause so that all the cost and all the obligation
and time and trouble fall back on the little guy. Man oh man
oh man.
"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, 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 they go home, and she quickly goes to bed while he
decides to write emails until she falls asleep. She never
does. The conflicted, tortured soul weeps until dawn.
After responding to some Emails, Roger 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 a dear, trusted 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
Elaine's brother, will pause just before serving, frown, and
say, "Bill, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
And that's the difference between men and women.