Communication between the sexes is a subject that has inspired hundreds of talk shows and thousands of books. Men and women are just undeniably different in the ways they impart information and take it in. Nowhere is that fact more evident than in a marriage, where the transfer of data is ongoing, eternal, and fraught with disparity over What Is Important. I realized this long ago when Husband and I had the following exchange early in our marriage.
HSBD: You know who I ran into today? Dave. He told me his wife had a baby.
OSV: Really? That’s so great. They were trying forever. Is it a boy or a girl?
HSBD: They’re still living in Queens.
OSV: What did they have?
HSBD: I don’t know. We didn’t talk long.
OSV: Maybe he mentioned the baby’s name?
HSBD: I’m not sure.
ARGHHHHH! I remember Husband’s look of surprise when I went on and on about how you can’t just report to me that a couple we know had a child without surrounding it with the information I need to fully process the news. Gender is basic. Name is helpful. How long ago is mandatory. There is nothing more embarrassing than calling a new mom with congratulations only to find out the kid’s first birthday was last week. Likewise if the snippet of information I’m given is that Lenny and Pam just got back from Florida. The next most embarrassing thing is calling Pam to congratulate her for escaping New York’s snow only to find out they went down there for her mother’s funeral. Don’t go sending me in to battle with blanks. A girl could get hurt.
Savvy Husband recognized long before he met me that men begin a story with the most pertinent fact, while women start with atmosphere. Whereas a man’s version of an incident might begin, “I was going around sixty when the deer ran out in front of my car,” a woman’s will more likely start with, “It was a dark and stormy night.” In spite of already knowing this to be the case, Husband would tap his foot or otherwise look distracted as I verbally set the stage for the question I was about to answer. In time he accepted the fact that he could no more hasten me through my prologue than I could wrangle details out of him that it was off his radar to seek. After ten years of marriage, we have both acknowledged where the divide is and made a mutual attempt to forge it. Husband has become almost rigorous in his notation of newborn statistics. He now reports the baby’s sex, weight, and name. In turn, I try to ease back on my hunger for more. Our conversation last night tells me I have to try harder.
HSBD: I saw Bob yesterday in the city. He asked if we want to get together with him and Amy for dinner.
OSV: They’re back from California?
HSBD: Apparently so.
OSV: Did he say how Amy’s dad is?
HSBD: No. He asked about dinner.
OSV: Well, they went out there to be with her father after his surgery. Bob didn’t say?
HSBD: I told him we’d like to have dinner. He said Amy was fine and I said you were fine. We both said we’re busy as hell at work. I did the best I could, sweetheart. There wasn’t any baby.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos reveal Messages for all to see
