Speaking in Tongues

Hola Virtual Readers, another day in paradise north and I'm freezing my ice balls off. It's so cold out . . ." how cold is it?" It's so cold that the Walmart shoppers put on an extra pair of pyjamas to go shopping. Weak, I know but I'd hate to disappoint you, knowing that weak is what you've become accustomed too. Plus there is no one reading this drivel anyway. Today's world has become a freakish hell to navigate for anyone that has to go outside and adult. The traffic, the work, the proctologist and of course the English language.

We are, however, lucky enough to have a melting pot of nationalities in this country of ours. Bringing with each of them, their cultures, food and of course their language. As diverse a country as we are, and as accepting as we are, this leaves room for the amusement of understandings. I could go on and write about this "understanding" for a full weblog, and I reserve the right to do just that. But this, particular instance I am writing about, is a communication issue that stems back to the primordial ooze. Ooze. What a fantastic word. Saying everything and nothing all at once. But I digress. I'm talking about the communication, or lack thereof, between men and women. This cosmic bit transcends race, language, religion and proctologist visits. At least if your proctologist is of the opposite sex or you have a partner who happens to be a proctologist. I know this communication effort also transcends the men and women bit so I am also speaking of the communication malfunction of the couple. In love, cohabitating couples. And while I can refer to this troublesome dialogue. I can really only speak of my experiences and would not hazard to guess at the many varied applications of this potential breakdown in the spoken word. And while the spoken word can be blamed as the main culprit in this exercise in futility, there are many variables at play. Mood, the time of day, topic, testosterone, estrogen, and most notably the relation to the last time you've seen your proctologist. It would appear I have recently had something inserted into the ole asswholestetter. I have not, at least not by a proctologist. Oh, behave. If at this point you are unaware of what I am speaking about, fear not, I'm a little lost myself but I will bring it back around. Women: " Honey can you please rinse out your Tupperware, it stinks by the time it gets home." Man: What do you mean I'm a horrible lover and I can't satisfy you?????!!!!" While this may not be as accurate as I would have liked and or hoped, you take my meaning, yes? It is a phenomenon that has confounded couples since the pictures on the stone walls were of stick figured deer and Sabertooth tigers. It went a little something like this. Cavewoman: " Ugh, ughhh, ugh, ughhh. Caveman: UGH????!!! Once again I'm paraphrasing but you get the idea. The only difference in the last scenario is that someone got hit on the head with a bone club. Still possible today but harvesting the bone can be a real bitch. Now, add a topic that creates a heated conversation, after a stressful day at work and what you have is a fail of epic proportions. An impossible task to be heard and get your point across, for either partner. A blistering fall, from impossible heights. So much so, that stopping the inevitable ensuing scrap is all but an afterthought.

It's a burning wildfire with gale force winds. It is unstoppable and consumes common sense and rationale with the hunger of a thousand beasts. Even if both partners are aware of this technical difficulty, even if the conversation is prefaced with the guidelines of listening and being respectful, this conversation train is quite possibly, and I'd bet money on it, headed for a derailment. A crash and burn. And likely a burn and a burn and burn some more.

Might as well have Mexican food for dinner it will burn so much. So why does this happen? No one really knows. With all of the research I've done on this topic, I literally have done no research, it is as unexplainable as Bigfoot or UFOs or why Donald Trump is still President of the USSA. This doesn't change the fact that it is there, it is real and it sucks to high heaven. It's Latin versus Algebra. It's black up against white. It's I say tomato, you say tomatoe. It's root canal bumping up to proctologist visit. It's . . . you get the idea, right? The good news is that this gross indecency of the couples afflicts a goodly percentage of said couples. So lucky us, it's misery loves company. The bad news is, it afflicts a goodly percentage of couples . . . Okay, there is no good news. Wait! There is some good news, I wouldn't let you go without a "happy to be here" smile.

You/we have a partner that we love and they, hopefully, love us too. We have partners to make us laugh and help us pack our stones and prop us up when the hellish navigation of life beats us into submission and we feel we just can't go another step. I am lucky to be able to complain, as I've done here, about a situation that I am lucky to be able to complain about. In the grand scheme of things, it is our own fear of

( supply own fear here) that makes us want to be heard and understood. Yet, our communique is about as clear as Eddie Vedder. Yes, Even Flow. So if this communication breakdown, you knew that term was coming, is inevitable, what should we do? Try not to say hurtful things. If this whirlwind of doom blows through your particular love nest, try not to get mean. Remember who your friend is and how much you love them. And, forgive the garbled connection of partners for they speak in tongues. "Ugh." AW

"When I always have the do's, you always have the don'ts. When you always have the wills, I always have the won't's." - Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers