I Understand Women: Part Five
Back in school, my friend Faust was known for his focus and intensity. His salient characteristic as a scholar was his ability to shut out all distractions--a handy trait for a triple major in math, physics, and philosophy. When Faust was parked in front of his computer hammering out a thesis, anything short of actually grabbing him by the shoulder couldn't pull him out of his esoteric reverie.
Now that he's a married man, I have to wonder how well this trait is serving him.
I'm sorry to say that the ability to focus on one thing in particular comes at the expense of being able to take in many different things that are happening concurrently.
Like Faust, I also have an uncanny ability to focus intently on a particular task-- such as reading the newspaper or napping, for example.
Much to my dismay, this gift isn't considered evidence of scholastic brilliance, but rather "selective hearing"; a trait that is apparently common to many men in the midst of long-term relationships.
You see, it turns out that we live in a world where many things actually do occur concurrently, and modern men are supposed to ride the crest of the present moment; taking note of every eddy and ripple, each undertow and riptide. We need to be attuned, in control, and above all, aware.
To be unaware, to forget, to not hear: these are all sins of omission; signs of a lack of attentiveness and caring. It doesn't matter what you were doing--you weren't paying attention to what she said.
The only recourse, should you find yourself in this situation, is the truth, and when I say the truth, I mean truthiness.
Without giving the matter too much thought, repeat back, in question form, what you thought you heard her say. If you can make her laugh, so much the better:
"Your hovercraft is full of eels?"
"No! I wish you knew how bad this feels! I think you need to get your hearing checked, honey."
Within the context of most relationships, there isn't much of a difference between not hearing and not listening, but you're better off playing the "not hearing" card for all you're worth.
Now that he's a married man, I have to wonder how well this trait is serving him.
I'm sorry to say that the ability to focus on one thing in particular comes at the expense of being able to take in many different things that are happening concurrently.
Like Faust, I also have an uncanny ability to focus intently on a particular task-- such as reading the newspaper or napping, for example.
Much to my dismay, this gift isn't considered evidence of scholastic brilliance, but rather "selective hearing"; a trait that is apparently common to many men in the midst of long-term relationships.
You see, it turns out that we live in a world where many things actually do occur concurrently, and modern men are supposed to ride the crest of the present moment; taking note of every eddy and ripple, each undertow and riptide. We need to be attuned, in control, and above all, aware.
To be unaware, to forget, to not hear: these are all sins of omission; signs of a lack of attentiveness and caring. It doesn't matter what you were doing--you weren't paying attention to what she said.
The only recourse, should you find yourself in this situation, is the truth, and when I say the truth, I mean truthiness.
Without giving the matter too much thought, repeat back, in question form, what you thought you heard her say. If you can make her laugh, so much the better:
"Your hovercraft is full of eels?"
"No! I wish you knew how bad this feels! I think you need to get your hearing checked, honey."
Within the context of most relationships, there isn't much of a difference between not hearing and not listening, but you're better off playing the "not hearing" card for all you're worth.
