Why didn’t you say so? I can’t read minds, you know
BURTON W. COLE, COLUMNIST
By Burton W. Cole
Men are not mind readers.
To roughly half the population, this is not news. The other half hasn’t noticed. They are too busy comparing notes with each other about how their insensitive mates didn’t just know when they needed a hug or the light bulb in the living room lamp needed replaced.
So while one partner, feeling an icy chill, tries to figure out what he did or didn’t do this time, the other fumes over why he doesn’t care enough to already know. And like most household calamities, it’s a frustration that is preventable.
For example, I was right in the middle of an important wrestling match on TV when my wife burst into the room and announced with considerable enthusiasm, “There’s a big, hairy spider in the bathtub!”
“OK,” I said. Sure, the interruption annoyed me a little, but it is good for the family to share their hobbies with each other. The sharing done, I returned to the important match as the Frothy Mauler pummeled a passing popcorn vendor.
“I said there’s a spider in the bathtub,” my wife repeated. Her enthusiasm seemed to escalating.
“Uh-huh,” I said as the popcorn vendor found a brick that, by sheer coincidence, had been left at that very spot.
“Well, get rid of it!”
“What? Oh. You didn’t say that. I can’t read minds, you know.”
She looked at me and suddenly, I could. Fortunately, there was no coincidental brick beside us. I could have used it on the spider, but I think she would have thought of a different use. I don’t know. I can’t read minds.
Then there’s my brother the race car driver. When Tim and a sweet friend were deciding what to do that night, she said, “It’s up to you.”
As most guys figure out eventually, this is secret code for she really wants to go to dinner or a ballet or something but she’s decided to be kind enough to give the man a chance to be gracious, take the lead, read her mind and suggest this wondrous idea on his own.
Unfortunately, Tim hadn’t yet learned this. He thought when she said, “It’s up to you,” she actually meant, “It’s up to you.”
So they went to the race track, sat on splintered bleachers, dined on giant pretzels seasoned with racetrack dust and burnt rubber as the soothing roar of oversized engines. For Tim, it was the perfect evening.
He realized later how little he knew. “Well, why didn’t she say she wanted to do something else? If you say it’s up to me, you’re going to the races.”
Plain, simple, direct. Apparently, there is a female law against this.
Once, after another missed signal, I retorted to my wife, “I suppose you think you can read our minds?”
“Where’s the challenge in that?” she said. “If it’s male and breathing, he’s only thinking of one thing.”
I’m not sure what she means by this. I can’t read minds. But I’m pretty sure it’s not true. We think about meatloaf, football and coming up with new excuses to call off work, so there are three things right there.
At least we are direct. When we are hungry, we say so. If we don’t want to share our bath with a spider, we say so. If we want to spend three hours in the shoe store and two in the dress shop, we say so.
What, you haven’t heard us say that last one? Well go ahead, read our minds. But please, wait till halftime.
Burt is not a mind reader, so write him at burton.w.cole@gmail.com, the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook or at www.burtonwcole.com.