You Gotta Talk to Me

Sometimes I like to fantasize that people could be reconfigured to have little meters in their foreheads, not to download information, but to register how many words in a day each one says. If I could put a bet on something that would make me big money, I would bet than women’s daily word counts would be at least five times higher than those of men, unless the guy had a job in which he had to be on the phone all day. And then maybe he wouldn’t say a thing at home. I know, I know. There are always exceptions. But in general, we women want to talk about feelings, personal news, give advice back and forth, larger issues, and whatever other random things cross our minds. Mostly, it’s fun and it’s how many of us are wired. And if we’re not gay, we pair up with men, who often can’t understand why or how we have the capacity to go on and on, with each other, and worse still, we attempt to do this with them. Many of us want to discuss a relational problem with the male partner until (gasp!) it’s actually resolved. And many of us having trouble taking a break, or giving the guy room to think. This isn’t helpful, and constitutes half the problem. A dear friend of mine used to say, “If you’re like me, and I know I am…” This made me laugh. But it’s so easy to assume that others should indeed be like one’s self.

DISCLAIMER!!! I do know a number of men who are just as ready and willing to talk things over as women are. And I know women who get hives if they are on the spot to converse about emotionally sensitive issues. But I’m generalizing in this particular blog post, folks.

It’s helpful if the man actually communicates that he has heard what his partner has said, will think about it, and will respond in a timely manner, such as next Thursday. If he specifies which Thursday of which month he is referring to, it’s very helpful. Things don’t go so well if he walks away, clams up, changes the subject, counterattacks, or asks why the woman is making such a big deal out of something he doesn’t regard as problematic. This can make a woman want to smack him up the side of the head, obsess alone about the problem, complain to her friends, stonewall the guy and pretend she’s “fine!” or generally engage in unproductive activities, such as overeating and slamming kitchen drawers. Some months ago I was reflecting on this, and wrote a song called, “You Gotta Talk to Me”. Here it is.