What's your language of love?

Do you know what your partner's love language is? According to Dr. Gary Chapman it is either quality time, words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service, or physical touch. Since I'm batting a big "oh fer" in my first fifty years, I'm either guessing wrong or speaking gibberish. Or, perhaps the doc was over-generalizing and missed a few languages. I certainly know my roommates' languages: gifts of tuna, a clean litter box, and warm places to sleep. Woman? That's another animal.

Most women claim to need more words of affirmation, based on remarks such as:
"Couldn't you at least have gotten me a card?"
"I sent you three texts and called twice before you finally replied with a generous two-word text."
"Why do my calls always seem to go straight to voice mail?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Can we talk?"
"Where do you see this going?"
"Tell me how much you love me."
"How does this look on me?"
"Did you hear what Susie's husband did for their anniversary?"

I suggest this woman is not looking for more words; she's looking for more receptive ears. In fact, when the male interjects with requests for clarification or solutions to the problem, the female become frustrated and resentful. She's not looking for affirmation inasmuch as she seeks confirmation.

(Again, I'm single so what the fuck do I know?)

She says, "I had the worst day of my entire life. I woke up with cramps and sure enough while I was waiting in line at the store behind some idiot with coupons and correct change, I could feel the damn breaking loose, so to speak."

He hears, "Blah, blah, blood, clots, gross, not getting laid, run away now while you can."

She continues, "While I was waiting to pick up Missy from school, some cop with nothing better to do lectured me for using the phone and not having my belt buckled. I was parked for God's sake! Then he asked if I had anything to drink. I told him I had two bottles of prosecco and a big fat doobie with lunch. He didn't laugh. He made me take a damn sobriety test right there in front of the school. I was so embarrassed."

He hears, "I will never part from my phone, you drive me to drink, all men suck, whether in uniform or not."

She continues, "When I finally got home, the cat sneaked out while I was carrying groceries in. I chased her all over the neighborhood to no avail. When I got home the cat was waiting at the front door, which was locked. Missy was upstairs with her iPod cranked, so she couldn't hear me banging. I couldn't call you because my phone was inside on the kitchen counter."

He hears, "My drama is more important than yours, and if you tell me to hide a key one more time I will superglue your upper lip to your nose."

There's the disconnect. All the beast needs to say is, "Aw, I'm sorry you had such a rough day, my love. How can Daddy make it all better?" while rubbing her neck gently. This way, little will be lost in translation, and Daddy might get to touch a booby again someday soon.

What does she really mean when she says …?

Men often hear what we want to hear. It gets us into trouble. My interpretation skills have been honed by the numerous misunderstandings I’ve encountered. Today, I can usually find the true meaning between the words women speak. When I misinterpret, I simply add the mistake to lessons learned, wipe the wine from my face, and trudge forward.

For example, when a woman says, “Nothing’s wrong,” something most definitely is wrong and the man shall pay. The foolish man hears her words and assumes he has a pass. Silly boy.

“Are you sure, honey?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So, you won’t mind if I stay for one more beer?”

“No, not at all. Take your time and have fun with the boys, sweetie.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? I have plenty to do around here.”

“You’re the best. Hey, don’t bother waiting up for me. I know how you need your sleep.”

“Oh, so you plan on being home late?”

“Gee, I don’t know. I just don’t want you to wait up.”

“OK, that’s fine.”

“Thanks, honey. You’re the best.”

“No problem.”

*click*

That man thinks he’s sailing the glassy seas on The Love Boat, but he’s really up Shit’s Creek rowing with teaspoons in a slowly deflating inner tube.

After he hangs up, he returns to his pack of wild apes and proudly proclaims he has the coolest wife ever.

“She trusts me.”

“Wow. She didn’t give you any attitude at all?”

“Nope. She said to stay out as late as I want.”

“Interesting.”

“What? You think she’s just saying that?”

“It’s possible.”

“Hm. Maybe I should call her back.”

Mr. Oblivious heads back outside and redials the wife. The call goes straight to voicemail because the wife is now on the phone with her BFF.

“He what?”

“I know. I deal with assholes all day at work and all I want to do is come home and unwind with a glass of wine and conversation. Instead, I find his cereal bowl on the table, his muddy shoes on the carpet, and a half-drank beer sitting next to the coaster on my antique end table.”

“Oy.”

“Then, he has the nerve to call me after I’m halfway through making a casserole to say he went to happy hour with the guys.”

“I have a chilled bottle of La Crema begging us to drink it.”

“Ugh, I’m so mad at him.”

“You don’t think he’s fooling around with someone at work, do you?”

“No, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find out they’re at Hooters or a titty bar.”

“See? This is why I stay single. When I need a man, I do what it takes, get what I need, and pat his fanny as I escort him out of my life.”

“I’m probably overreacting. Fuck it. Bring that bottle over. Let’s get buzzed and watch some trash TV.”

“Excellent.”

“When dickhead gets home I’m totally going to play dead and not let him touch me.”

“That’s what he deserves.”

The man is under such a self-delusion that he probably won’t realize his misdeed until the wife brings it up three months later as part of a new argument. Ah, love.