Tower of Babel

I'm convinced men and women speak different languages entirely, not just Venusian and Martian dialects of the same English. At least, our perceptions and understandings of the world sure are amazingly disparate.

In a moment of passion this weekend (note: undergrads really are the best thing about grad school) I relived all the excitement and awkwardness of a highschool hookup on my way to 2nd base with this cute young thing. Shirts were long gone and she had just shimmied out of her skin-tight jeans.

Then it happened: communication breakdown.

Her first words after the pants came down: "My necklace is turning you on, isn't it? I know it's pretty."

Um, what? Sweetie, I wasn't aware you were even wearing a necklace until it stood out as the last thing you had on. Let's review: your naked body is lying before me, and you think the reason I'm so excited is because there are some beads hanging from your neck?

The pursuit of the naked female form is one of the biggest drivers of men in all of human history. It's why millions of guys work jobs they don't like. It's why Victoria's Secret posted $5.6 billion dollars in revenue last year (they sell necklaces there, too, but I'm willing to bet those didn't account for much of that number). It's pretty much why all the Renaissance paintings were made. To quote an excellent 1997 film it's "why cavemen painted on walls." Millions of years of human evolution have made this moment a man's Holy Grail.

And yet an apparently normal woman thinks it's superseded by some polished rocks on a string?

If we can't get on the same page about something as fundamental - as downright primal - as this, how in the hell are we ever supposed to really communicate? How do I know that what I'm thinking about and trying to communicate to a woman via words isn't just being converted into something COMPLETELY off once it hits her ears? And vice versa: what am I missing - and how badly am I missing it - when women are trying to talk to me?

Methinks there's a surprisingly high chance that we're all just obliviously talking past one another.