Is it wishful thinking to believe a woman might pepper ordinary conversation with hidden meaning or am I looking for something that isn’t really there?
When chatting up a potential squeeze, I often feel as though multiple lines of communication are available, but I’m unwisely using only one of them. Moreover, even though I’m paying close attention to the words she’s speaking, I seem to be missing nine-tenths of the information she’s sending my way.
It’s like we’re characters in a spy novel, meeting covertly in a crowded café behind the Iron Curtain, except that I’m not getting all the winks and nudges. When she spots the counter-surveillance and says we’re hot, I remove my hat and ask the waiter for something cool.I always say exactly what I mean. Except when I don't.
And why, after she asked for the third time how far my apartment is from the pub, did I fail to realize that she didn’t want me to count city blocks or use GPS technology to approximate the number of miles?
Sadly, I’m as incompetent at sending as I am at receiving. Cryptic messages, that is. If only I were comically obvious or impossibly obscure, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But I’m so focused on “hearing” what she’s “saying” that I’m unaware of how wildly I’m being misinterpreted. At a Mediterranean BYOB, I mentioned that I like both hummus and baba ganoush, meaning we should get a plate of each. She got this, but she also got the “eating oysters” and “eating snails” scene from the movie SPARTACUS. She thought I was using an innocent order of appetizers to proclaim my liberal sexuality. Normally, I wait for the Greek coffee.
However, I sometimes feel that she willfully hears more than I’ve said. When she asked what I needed while she finished getting ready, I glanced around her living room and noted the absence of magazines on her coffee table. “Stimulation,” I answered. So why did she throw her cat at me?