Man Talk

Clearly, women do not understand men. They have absolutely no idea how men communicate or socialize. They are oblivious when it comes to Man Talk.

The other day my friend Marc and I were texting each other, much the same way we do pretty much every day. (Marc is a professor and associate dean at a fairly prestigious university. Well, it was prestigious until it hired him as a professor and associate dean.)

“What did you text him?” asked Princess Barbara.

“I told him he was a moron,” I replied

“Don’t you two ever have any real conversations?”

“That is a real conversation,” I responded.

“No. I mean, don’t you ever talk about anything serious or of importance?”

“Of course. Here read this line of texting,” I said as I gave her my iPhone.

And here (with a substantial amount of editing and censorship of the “raw” parts) was the text conversation she read:

Me:      Hey, rat turd. (followed by a picture of an old lady flipping the finger with the caption “Sometimes words are not enough.”)

Marc:   Scumbag. What are you doing?

Me:      Nothing, slug crap. You?

Marc:   We just got home, mental midget. Time for a rest and then we are going to go grab some dinner.

Me:      Go to Berkowitz-Kumin [a local funeral home] for a permanent rest.

Marc:   I would gladly go there to speak at your funeral. It would be my pleasure.

Me:      The way I feel right now maybe you should start working on your eulogy.

Marc:   I’ve been finished with it for a long time.

Me:      I didn’t know you could even read and write.

Marc:   I go to sleep at night praying that I can give it the next day. We are starting a movie.

Me:      What movie?

Marc:   I don’t know. Ellen (Marc’s wife) put it on.

Me:      And you can’t figure out what you are watching? You truly are an idiot.

Marc:   It hasn’t started, yet, amoeba brain … still in the damn previews.

Me:      Mule fart. There is a cover that the movie came in. Just guessing but it probably has the name of the movie on it.

Marc:   I’m sure of that, too, but I’m too lazy to get upand read it, s*#t for brains.

Me:      Talk to you later, diarrhea breath.

Now, to two guys, that is a conversation. It apparently does not qualify as a conversation to a woman. Women actually want information. If I told Barbara that I spoke with Marc and that he and Ellen were going to go to dinner, she would want to know where they were going; who decided on the restaurant; what time they were going; who they were going with; what they were going to have to eat; how many calories are in the meal; does a drink come with the meal; were they getting dessert;  what were they doing after dinner; which car were they taking; who was driving; what was Ellen going to wear; and a lot of other questions that I would never in a million years be able to even think to ask. And when I tell Barbara I have no answer for any of her questions she absolutely can’t understand why I didn’t unearth all of this information from Marc.

“Don’t the two of you talk?”

“We did talk. He told me they were going out for dinner.”

If Barbara told me that she had spoken with Ellen and that Ellen and Marc were going to go to dinner, I would want to know … well … nothing, actually. The mere fact that they were going to dinner was enough. Why do I need any more information?

A text sent to Marc at 4:30 in the morning stating simply: “Hey, A-hole. Wake up. You’re wasting the whole day!” is, as far as I am concerned, a conversation. It conveys the fact that I am having trouble sleeping; that I have nothing better to do than text and bother him because I have probably already checked my Facebook account and my e-mail or I wouldn’t be sending the text; and, that I hope my text wakes him up so he will be as tired as I will be all day.

Another of our favorite text conversations takes place immediately upon one of us hearing the news that some celebrity has passed away and goes something like this;

Me:      Hey, schmuck! [name of newly deceased person] has invited you to join him/her for drinks tonight. Be prompt.

Again, as far as guys are concerned, this is a complete conversation. It provides information that someone of notoriety has died and tells Marc that he should join them. Short and sweet.

Why do women have a problem understanding this?

Remember, men are the gender that created an entire national pastime that consists of a game in which no talking is necessary … BASEBALL!

The catcher wants a particular pitch? He uses his fingers to relay the message to the pitcher. 1 finger – fastball; 2 fingers – curve; 3 fingers – slider or whatever other pitch the pitcher throws. The pitcher understands.

The umpire wants to let you know that the pitch is a strike? He lifts his right arm. Ball? No signal at all. The players understand.

The third base coach wants to tell the batter to bunt, or hit and run or not swing at a pitch? He goes through an entire bizarre routine of touching various parts of his body … and the batter understands!

During the entire two and a half hours that a baseball game usually takes to play, not one single word needs to be uttered by the participants and yet, they understand everything that is taking place and have a great time playing the game and spending time with other guys.

If a woman had invented the game, my guess is that an umpire would have to vocally call out the words “Ball” or “Strike” and explain why it was a “Ball” or “Strike;” ask the catcher why he called for that particular type of pitch at this point in the ballgame; ask the batter if he thinks home plate needs to be dusted off; ask both managers if his butt looks too big in his umpiring uniform; and then ask the third base coach what kind of laundry detergent the clubhouse manager used to clean his uniform because it was so spotless.

            Apparently, men are just naturally capable of communicating in a more concise and succinct manner than women. In fact, in my next blog I may just try to write the whole article in 15 words or less. (And don’t think I can’t hear many of you out there, applauding!)