Friday, April 23, 2004
It's everyone's mind.
I've read so many definitive advice columns lately. Black and white. And they all say the same When Harry Met Sally thing: men and women can't be "just friends". Acquaintances, maybe. But not friends.
My first inclination -- which I have for any such absolute statement -- is to scoff. Psh! "Men and women can be friends without sex!" Then again . . . I can't think of one female friend I have. "Well . . . there's got to be someone!" There's my wife's friends. But those are really her friends. And if we ever divorced, I'm sure they'd be the people giving me the dirty looks as I threw my drums into the back of the moving truck.
"Well, then," my logic goes, "there are certainly the wives of my married friends." But that, too, is not a very good example. Sure, there may be one or two wives of my friends who like me. But these are not friends. "Like" may even be a bit kind. They tolerate me. I can imagine the conversations: "Oh, we're going to see him there? Oh. Well, hopefully his wife will be there so I won't have to talk to him."
So if I go by personal experience, I suppose I have to agree with the masses: it just can't be. There can be the nice conversations, the shared humor, the easy agreements. But that's all. Because according to the rule, everyone is transfixed by sex. That blond girl that walks by in her frilly, white shirt that doesn't show any cleavage, but gives just the right impression, just the right form -- she's thinking the same thing about me. Or maybe she saw the ring -- that anchoring of all other relationships.
I should really just stop playing the game. Why leave the impression that I'm this well-mannered, polite, intelligent person? The bottom line is that when I'm done with my cereal in the morning, I pick up the bowl and drink the rest of the milk straight from the bowl. No matter who I live with, once I pass that level of comfort -- I'm drinking from the bowl. I like the sugary milk, and it's annoying to have to spoon two dozen spoonfuls of milk into my mouth.
I know my life would have been so much easier up until this point, if only all the women I ever met knew this. Right now, you're thinking, "What the hell is he talking about? It's only cereal."
Yeah. Sure. It's only about cereal. Like it was only about her white shirt I'm still thinking of.
My first inclination -- which I have for any such absolute statement -- is to scoff. Psh! "Men and women can be friends without sex!" Then again . . . I can't think of one female friend I have. "Well . . . there's got to be someone!" There's my wife's friends. But those are really her friends. And if we ever divorced, I'm sure they'd be the people giving me the dirty looks as I threw my drums into the back of the moving truck.
"Well, then," my logic goes, "there are certainly the wives of my married friends." But that, too, is not a very good example. Sure, there may be one or two wives of my friends who like me. But these are not friends. "Like" may even be a bit kind. They tolerate me. I can imagine the conversations: "Oh, we're going to see him there? Oh. Well, hopefully his wife will be there so I won't have to talk to him."
So if I go by personal experience, I suppose I have to agree with the masses: it just can't be. There can be the nice conversations, the shared humor, the easy agreements. But that's all. Because according to the rule, everyone is transfixed by sex. That blond girl that walks by in her frilly, white shirt that doesn't show any cleavage, but gives just the right impression, just the right form -- she's thinking the same thing about me. Or maybe she saw the ring -- that anchoring of all other relationships.
I should really just stop playing the game. Why leave the impression that I'm this well-mannered, polite, intelligent person? The bottom line is that when I'm done with my cereal in the morning, I pick up the bowl and drink the rest of the milk straight from the bowl. No matter who I live with, once I pass that level of comfort -- I'm drinking from the bowl. I like the sugary milk, and it's annoying to have to spoon two dozen spoonfuls of milk into my mouth.
I know my life would have been so much easier up until this point, if only all the women I ever met knew this. Right now, you're thinking, "What the hell is he talking about? It's only cereal."
Yeah. Sure. It's only about cereal. Like it was only about her white shirt I'm still thinking of.
