Yesterday I had my 7-year-old niece all afternoon. My beautiful, smart-as-a-whip niece whom I adore with all of my being. Although I did notice one tiny thing about little girls that brought me to a wonderful “AHA!” moment that I thought most of my male and female following alike could appreciate and find the humor in.
First off, we went to the store to get the ingredients to make some cookies. She told me about her new house, her dogs, her friends at school, how she is going to a new school this year, about her recent trip to the beach, her brand new shoes….
Well, you are getting the drift here.
At first, I was asking questions back and listening with rapt and appropriate aunt attention. Then, as the time (and stories) wore on and on (and on and on and on), my mind began to wander and I started to fade out a little mentally. I would hear her stop speaking and realize that she was looking up at me, waiting for a response and would immediately think, “Crap! I am supposed to answer here.” Then I would throw out a “Whoa!” and hope that was the correct way to go. I would hear the lilt at the end of a sentence and think, “That was definitely a question”, and so I would respond, “No way! That’s crazy! What do you think?” (Since I, of course, had no idea whether I supposed to say yes or no)
The more that this went on (and on and on and on) I was suddenly struck with a cold, hard realization like a lightening bolt through my overstimulated brain: This must be how men listen to us women!
I mean, I could not possibly keep up with all of what she was talking about. I did not know the people that she was speaking of with such familiarity, the places that she was (strangely) describing, or why she took so long to tell such a simple and direct story. Oh, and the sheer length of the conversation was nothing short of astoundingly mind-blowing. The girl had been going on (and on and on and on) for hours. No, there is simply no way that one could even begin to listen to this asinine babble with full attention. Yet, here I was, feeding into it like she was the most interesting person that I have ever had the pleasure of conversing with because I love her and, while ludicrously verbose, she is so stinkin’ cute.
And, in that very moment, I genuinely felt sorry for all of the men of the world. Because, truthfully, we do not ever grow out of this particular trait. This is because -when we are just wee little girls- our parents treat us as though everything that spills from our tiny mouths is pure liquid gold worthy of the highest praise and admiration. We get a little older still and we have girlfriends that may be interested, or maybe not, but love to talk just as much as we do so they have to, at least, pretend to listen to have their turn to speak. We get even older and then we have boyfriends that are attempting to impress us and so they listen to us drone on and on until the sun rises and then they say that being with us talking until dawn is the most fun that they have ever had in all of their days.
But then, the poor guy that actually ends up married to us is stuck with that woman that has been told she was the most fascinating thing to ever grace this planet for 20+ years. And so we talk to you husbands like we always have…without abandon and never leaving out a single detail.
You poor, poor bastards. 😉
It has one page. It says “Don’t talk so much”.
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.