YES MEANS NO MEANS MAYBE MEANS PERHAPS

The perils within women's language...

We are strange creatures. Women I mean. We speak the languages of our Nations, our cultures, our peers… But something else also lurks within our words; something that males have had to contend with since the beginning of time, or at least the start of verbal communication.

Take me for instance:

“Mum, can we… (add whatever to the end of that)? My son asks.

“Maybe.”

“That means yes, right?”

“It means maybe.”

“But your maybe is always yes.”

“No it’s not!” (How dare he assume?)

“Yes it is! Every time we ask you and you say maybe, it’s a yes! ”

“Perhaps. We’ll see.”

See what I mean? All the poor kid wanted was a simple yes or no. But I had to go the convoluted route, because I didn’t want to commit either way. And despite being familiar with my personal language after almost 18 years of “maybes”, my poor son still floundered...

“If maybe is yes then perhaps means no then, right? So we’re not…”

“Maybe.”

Son walks away shaking his head…

Every woman develops this language, right from her days in the cot and the stroller. There are the opposite in meaning words, the I say this but really mean this words, the don’t confuse this with this words and the I’m always right even when I’m wrong words.

Male family members and friends are constantly stepping in and out of minefields as they try to navigate through this maze of women-words.

Men stick to simple language where everything means what it is intended to mean. Yes and no mean yes and no. “You look nice,” means you actually do look nice!

Not to the woman. This utterance earns the dreaded stare from the receiving wife/partner.

“Nice? That’s all you can say? You are so lazy you can’t be bothered to think of another word? Pathetic. You haven’t even looked at me properly.”

Yeah. Honesty must be clothed in finery, eloquence, distinction. Or not, depending on her current mood and any amount of underlying issues.

“What did I do wrong now?” (Another confused male asking the age-old question.)

“You got me this!” Accompanied by a glare and maybe some furious foot-tapping.

“But you said you liked it, when we passed by the store window.”

“I liked it then, I didn’t mean you had to go and buy it!”

“But you liked it!”

“If I was ten kilos lighter and four inches taller maybe. That’s what I meant!”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“Look at me! My butt is so big in this!”

(He looks and sees his perfect wife.) “You have a nice butt!”

“So you’re saying I’m fat now?”

“No…” (some discreet head-scratching and mental exertion trying to find a way out of the maze.) “I mean I like you the way you are. I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

Uh oh. Now the poor bloke is in the middle of the mine-field. One wrong word and he’ll find himself on the door-step, holding an overnight bag and booking a hotel room on his mobile phone.

(Cautiously. Very cautiously.) “I can take it back… I have the receipt…”

“Actually… (this said after another careful look in the mirror by wife/partner) “I kinda like it now. Thank you darling.”

“You’re welcome?”

What is it with us and straight talk? Why is every conversation a potential trap for those poor unsuspecting males in our periphery? Take this conversation:

“You’re wearing the wrong shirt. I don’t like it. Go change.”

(Confused male:) “You bought it with me remember? To wear tonight?”

“Yes, but it clashes with your tie.”

“Should I change the tie then?”

“No, I like the tie. Just change the shirt.”

“Umm… You didn’t like my other shirts, that’s why you insisted I buy this one?”

Vague stare from her. “Did I?”

(Big sigh.) “So do I change the shirt or the tie?” (A discreet glance at his watch because they’re already late due to her changing in and out of several outfits, all purchased for this one evening.)

“No, I’ll change my dress. We clash.”

“So your dress is the problem then, not my shirt?” (Wrong choice of words there buddy!)

“Are you implying I look bad in this? Is my dress a problem? Do I look fat and ugly?”

Uh oh. Now the poor bloke is in the middle of the mine-field. One wrong word and he’ll find himself on the door-step, holding an overnight bag and booking a hotel room on his mobile phone.

“No… I… uh…”

“Never mind.” A roll of the eyes. “Let’s just go okay, you’ve made us late as it is. You’re always making us late. What will your boss think?”

We however see no problem in our language. We know exactly what we are talking about. This woman was clearly nervous about meeting her husband/partner’s boss for the first time. His female boss…

It’s just everyone around us misinterpreting and failing to understand us.

“Dad,” (This from teenage daughter.) “Can I borrow your car?”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

“Nothing.”

“So why do you want to borrow mine then?”

“You just don’t get it.” (Shake of the head and dad feels like he’s a hundred and he’s missed something of great importance.)

“Are you going somewhere special?” (Good try but… boo boom. Wrong question.)

She glares. “You forgot!” (He knows the glare well, having been on the receiving end of it from his wife on numerous occasions.)

“I’m sorry honey, did I forget something important?” (Some discreet head-scratching and mental exertion trying to find a way out of the maze.) “It’s not your birthday-”

“Do you even know when my birthday is? You never pay attention to anything I say.”

“I do!”

“No you don’t! I sent you a text. Which you clearly forgot about.”

“You did?” (Dad pulls out phone and scrolls through texts.)

She sticks her finger on the screen. “There. That one!”

“Dad car Thurs (heart emoticon) u.” He reads it, like he’d read it when it had arrived. He hadn’t understood it clearly then and he didn’t understand it now.

(He’d texted back, “Love you too,” because that’s the only part that had made any sense to him.)

“See, I tell you I need your car today, and that I appreciate you giving it to me! And you replied that it was fine!”

“You did? I did? I thought you were going somewhere by car on Thursday and just letting me know so I wouldn’t worry.”

Uh oh.

“Why would you worry? You think I’m on drugs or something? You don’t trust me right? I knew it! I just knew it!”

Dad hands keys over, mentally trying to figure out if he was then supposed to take her car to work. Or the train because she’d have a fit, should any of her friends see him driving it.

“Thanks dad. You’re awesome.” Daughter grabs keys and rushes out the door with a big smile.

Dad takes the train. Better getting to work late than…

Then there’s the inevitable discussion of where to go for dinner. This one can have many variables, each of which could lead down some dark, lonely roads.

“Where would you like to go dear?” (Husband/partner believing he is doing the right thing by asking first.)

“I don’t know.”

“What about your favourite Italian place?” (He can feel this dragging out. His stomach is rumbling. Always best to start with her favourite, right?)

“I don’t feel like Italian tonight.” (Wrong...)

“So what do you feel like then?”

“I don’t know… I already said that!”

“Want me to choose?” (Husband now cautiously entering mine-field.)

“Maybe.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I guess…”

“We haven’t been to Alexander’s in a while. I’ll book there, yeah?"

“Whatever.”

(He books, still unsure as to whether “Whatever” means yes, book it or no, you are somehow missing the obvious…  Sitting at a table at Alexander’s later in the evening… She is frowning, picking at a salad. He’s enjoying his garlic prawns… or trying to…)

“I should never have let you choose. The service here is terrible.”

 

“It is?” (Husband/Partner looks around, and everyone else seems happy.) “It’s been fine every other time.”

“Well it’s not fine now.”

“What’s the problem hon?”

“This is clearly not what I ordered!”

“But you always have the seafood salad!” (She does.)

“No I don’t, and look at it! There’s too much dressing.”

“Is there? I’ll call the waitress; get the chef to make you another one.” (Anything so he can get to finish those prawns!)

“What, so you can stare at her b***s again? I saw you!”

“I was reading her name tag!”

“Liar.”

“So do you want another one or not?” (A touch of quite rational irritation.)

A long-suffering sigh. “Don’t bother. Next time, I pick the restaurant. If I had picked it, we’d be at Sojourn now; they have those delicious crepe things…”

“But - I did ask you right? And you said whatever, remember?”

Wife/partner is silent for a moment. NOT a good sign. Abrupt silence in the middle of complaining never ends well…)

“I meant to tell you… (Now comes the real issue, barrelling towards the hapless male.) “Anne saw Meagan kissing a boy after school. You know the Italian boy down the street? The house with the security shutters everywhere?”

“Our Meagan?” (Shock. Breathe. He puts down his fork.  Sips/gulps his beer.) “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Images of his daughter…

“I tried. You just didn’t listen.”

He stares at her, clearly more confused by wife/partner than angry at his thirteen year old daughter now. “When? I never heard you mention anything about Meagan!”

“I said I didn’t feel like Italian? You should have asked me why! God, you’re so thick sometimes!”

So why do we do this? Why do I do this? Is it something wired into our brains? Must we always act out this verbal song and dance before we… Do we always assume others are in tune with our messages?