I Understand Women: Part Two
Today's Lesson: The Narratives of our Lives
It's time once again to take down the meerschaum pipe from the mantle and retire to my study. As one of the few men to unravel the gordian knot of the female psyche, I'm duty-bound to trudge back to Plato's cave and lead my trogloditic bretheren to the light of day. Relationships are a maze, and the minataur of misunderstanding has been the ruin of many a fine, well-intentioned poor lad. You must continue your quest for the golden fleece, or forfeit connubial bliss. That's why I've called you here, young squire, for our second lesson.
-puff- a perfectly-formed smoke ring wafts toward the ceiling.
It's not enough to be well-intentioned, my friend. There are no blueprints or schemas for your relationships; no templates, no foolproof methods for securing happiness. For women, relationships aren't problems to be solved or bridges to be built.
Most men think the story of their lives most closely resemble the choose-your-own-adventure books of our youth: You do something, and as a result, something happens. Sometimes you make the right choices, sometimes you don't. It stands to reason that if you had made different choices, something else would have happened. The stories of our lives, it seems to us, follow a logical and linear patten.
Women, on the other hand, follow a more complex plot. The female narrative is replete with irony, counterbalanced subplots, and complex, multifaceted characters-- each of which is deserving of attention. Appreciation of subtle nuance and things unspoken totally absorbs the reader, leading to sublime appreciation of complexity.
The Victorian novelist Jane Austen once described her work as "the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush, as produces little effect after much labour." A more succinct summary of the female perspective on life has never been articulated. Little things like remembering a particular dress she wore in 1995 can be more meaningful than a thousand snogs.
These two disparate narratives are the source of many conflicts in relationships. Consider this dialogue, for example:
Brad*: I saw your Aunt Linda. She's right up the street. Your cousin Kelley had a baby.
Angelina*: Was it a boy or a girl? How much did it weigh? When was it born?
Brad: I don't know...She's over there...Why don't you ask her yourself?
Angelina: (sigh) I can't believe you! Don't you know anything?
* Names changed to protect the innocent
Now in this example, Brad heard news he thought Angelina would like to hear. This required action on his part. He flipped the pages of his choose-your-own-adventure book to page thirty-six and dutifully chose to walk to his spouse to inform her, expecting praise for his labours. Mission accomplished. What he didn't realize was the social complexities; the finely -caved two inches of ivory that convey the richness of the female narrative--the seemingly superflous details that are the hallmark of fine fiction.
Rule #2: Always remember the details. If you can't remember them, make them up. A good story trumps incurious truth and cluelessness.
Please join me next week for installment number three of our series. In the meantime, feel free to comment below and I'll reply posthaste.
It's time once again to take down the meerschaum pipe from the mantle and retire to my study. As one of the few men to unravel the gordian knot of the female psyche, I'm duty-bound to trudge back to Plato's cave and lead my trogloditic bretheren to the light of day. Relationships are a maze, and the minataur of misunderstanding has been the ruin of many a fine, well-intentioned poor lad. You must continue your quest for the golden fleece, or forfeit connubial bliss. That's why I've called you here, young squire, for our second lesson.
-puff- a perfectly-formed smoke ring wafts toward the ceiling.
It's not enough to be well-intentioned, my friend. There are no blueprints or schemas for your relationships; no templates, no foolproof methods for securing happiness. For women, relationships aren't problems to be solved or bridges to be built.
Most men think the story of their lives most closely resemble the choose-your-own-adventure books of our youth: You do something, and as a result, something happens. Sometimes you make the right choices, sometimes you don't. It stands to reason that if you had made different choices, something else would have happened. The stories of our lives, it seems to us, follow a logical and linear patten.
Women, on the other hand, follow a more complex plot. The female narrative is replete with irony, counterbalanced subplots, and complex, multifaceted characters-- each of which is deserving of attention. Appreciation of subtle nuance and things unspoken totally absorbs the reader, leading to sublime appreciation of complexity.
The Victorian novelist Jane Austen once described her work as "the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush, as produces little effect after much labour." A more succinct summary of the female perspective on life has never been articulated. Little things like remembering a particular dress she wore in 1995 can be more meaningful than a thousand snogs.
These two disparate narratives are the source of many conflicts in relationships. Consider this dialogue, for example:
Brad*: I saw your Aunt Linda. She's right up the street. Your cousin Kelley had a baby.
Angelina*: Was it a boy or a girl? How much did it weigh? When was it born?
Brad: I don't know...She's over there...Why don't you ask her yourself?
Angelina: (sigh) I can't believe you! Don't you know anything?
* Names changed to protect the innocent
Now in this example, Brad heard news he thought Angelina would like to hear. This required action on his part. He flipped the pages of his choose-your-own-adventure book to page thirty-six and dutifully chose to walk to his spouse to inform her, expecting praise for his labours. Mission accomplished. What he didn't realize was the social complexities; the finely -caved two inches of ivory that convey the richness of the female narrative--the seemingly superflous details that are the hallmark of fine fiction.
Rule #2: Always remember the details. If you can't remember them, make them up. A good story trumps incurious truth and cluelessness.
Please join me next week for installment number three of our series. In the meantime, feel free to comment below and I'll reply posthaste.
