He said what?

The sign on my forehead must say if you're an old, creepy man, you ought to hit on me.

As I've mentioned before, my "uncomfortable place" (my defense when I feel insecure or threatened) is to be extremely polite. Unfortunately, old men just see that as a shiny neon arrow that shouts, "Hey, old man, you oughtta hit on me." I hate to break it to you, old man, but politeness doesn't necessarily equate interest. While I'm perfectly content to socialize behind a veil of politeness, the minute you start hitting on me, it ruins the night. I'm forced to be rude or leave in order to get away from your clumsy advances. Thanks a lot for ruining my night, creepy old man old enough to be childhood friends with my dad.

Let me provide some empirical evidence:

EXAMPLE 1: A 51 yo has been on and off pursuing me since he was 49. He tends to call, email, send flowers or cards whenever he's not dating more age appropriate 40-somethings. To the outrage of my then boyfriend, he even had the nerve to send me flowers on my 30th birthday. While I enjoy his company and think he's a smart, funny and charming individual, I'm not romantically attracted to him. Every time he crosses the line between us "catching up" and him hitting on me, I'm forced to flee the scene.

EXAMPLE 2: Shortly after I had been laid off, I went on a date with a 49 yo modelizer, aka The Silver Fox, who mistakenly thought I was arm candy material. (I swear I didn't know his age until our second date. He looked 40 and acted 12.) After our first date, I had already known that I wasn't into him, but I was observing my three date policy. (I'll go on three dates with someone even if I don't think I'm into him because first impressions aren't always correct. The only time the three date rule doesn't apply is if my date is egregiously offensive.) On our third date, The Silver Fox promised to take me shopping the next day if I'd go home with him. I declined and went home. The next morning, The Silver Fox sent me an email with a subject heading that read, "lets consummate our friendship tonight intimacy is very important to me," [sic] and attached a picture of two half-naked chicks. Now THAT was egregiously offensive. I had planned on waiting a few days to end things with him, but the email prompted me to pick up the phone and end things right away. (Remember him, under another "He said what?" entry?)

EXAMPLE 3: In my first week in HK, two ancient Californian expats hit on HS and me while we were catching up over drinks in LKF. They were so oblivious to our obvious disinterest, we were forced to leave the bar in order to get away from them. I had the misfortune to be the one talking to the sprayer, not the sayer. He ineptly hit on me by talking too close and spitting in my face with every "th" in the English language. All I could think about was how I desperately wanted to disinfect my face. Who knows where his body fluids have been.

EXAMPLE 4: In my third week in HK, I struck up a conversation with Brit expat M while waiting for J. I didn't get the dirty old man vibe from him and was reassured when he later confided to blond, blue-eyed J that he found Asian women unattractive. Knowing that Asia abounds with Caucasian men with Asian fetishes, I was relieved. He seemed normal and non-creepy enough for J to feel comfortable inviting him to spend NYE with her friends. It started off well enough - we met up with J's friends, and M's 17 yo son later joined us as well. We had fun until 3am when M drunkenly told me how ___(insert flattering adjective here)___ I was. He wanted me to spend the night at his place. In an effort to discourage further conversation on the topic, I told him such talk made me uncomfortable. I asked him what he expected me to say and that I didn't know what to say to his advances. When he continued to pressure me to go home with him, I left. By 3:20am, I was in the subway station, getting on a train back to my parents'. M and I could have been friendly acquaintances for the duration of my time in HK, but noooo, M had to go and ruin the evening by hitting on me when I in no way indicated I wanted the attention. M texted and emailed the next and following day asking if I'd have dinner with him before I left, and I politely declined.

I have three theories so far on why this happens to me, and I expect B to weigh in on this as well:

According to R, I "flirt" with everyone. When R and I were in Bonaire, I asked her to observe my interaction with people. I wanted to know when I gave off the "flirting vibe" because I've often found myself in situations where someone is telling me he's really into me, and I have no idea why he would think I might possibly reciprocate such behavior. After watching me interact with strangers and fellow windsurfers for two weeks, R told me that I didn't give off a "flirting vibe," but that I "flirted" with everyone I spoke to, man, woman, young and old alike. Whenever I'm speaking to someone, I am so genuinely interested in what they have to tell me about themselves at the moment that people who don't know me well aren't aware that I'm almost immediately disinterested in the conversation (and them) once I've left the conversation. After hearing R's observations, I couldn't help but wonder if I have a form of social ADD.

F thinks it's because I speak to strangers. According to F, I'll talk to anyone. And, not just talk in the way most people talk to each other, but with the same single minded focus I have when eating at a new restaurant or burger joint. She thinks my problems would be very simply resolved if I just ignore people when they speak to me. (F and I haven't been in a situation where we've been able to see each other regularly since high school, and she can't recall if I was this social back then. I was a shy, insecure kid as well as a late bloomer, so I think my whole talk to strangers thing didn't happen until my mid-20s.) I asked F how she ignores people when they talk to her, and she said she just waves a dismissive hand at them. F is adorable, so she can get away with that. If I were to go around waving people away when they approach me, I'd just be the stereotypical bitchy asian chick who acts like she's better than everyone else. You know who I'm talking about -- she hangs out at your neighborhood bar, pub, lounge, coffee shop, club, etc. Look for me the next time you're out and about. I'm the girl who's trying to have a good time by repelling people with a flick of her wrist. It reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld where Elaine pretends to be deaf so she doesn't have to speak to her gregarious town car driver, and then she gets caught in her lie when she overhears him tell his dispatcher that he'll pick Tom Cruise up later that night.

Personally, I think the problem isn't me, it's them. Creepy old dudes are vain egomaniacs who think everyone is into them. When someone with female body parts who isn't painful to look at interacts with them, they think it's because she's sexually attracted to them. In reality, the interaction has zero sexual tension or undertones. I could and would easily have the same conversation with creepy old dude's grandma. If I rocked a wee wee, I could say the exact same thing and creep-o would take me at face value. As a female, creep-o imagines every word I utter to be secret code for, "I want to get in your pants." The result? I get the dirty old man treatment. Or, perhaps it isn't them. It's me. I'm gender blind the way Stephen Colbert is color blind. Creepy old man, on the other hand, more than makes up for my gender blindness.

He said WHAT?

I wonder if there's something about me that just screams IF YOU'RE A STALKER, COME TALK TO ME.

I had a meeting in midtown today. As I waited in line at the security desk at the lobby, the man in front of me offered to pass my ID to the security desk. I almost handed him my ID, and then he laughed and said he was joking. He did, however, want my information so he could call me some time.

I "laughed" and politely told him I didn't think it was a good idea.

Unfortunately for me, we ended up in the same elevator together (with a poor woman who tried to pretend she was invisible). The man was very persistent and asked again if he could have my contact information.

Once again, I said, "NO."

He asked why I wouldn't give it to him. Since I was in an elevator, it was extremely awkward and uncomfortable for me to continue to have a conversation that I clearly didn't want to have, and I couldn't leave, I tried to be polite and make a joke out of it.

"I woke up this morning and decided that I wasn't providing my contact information to anyone today. Sorry," I told him.

He promised that he'd be back tomorrow to sit in the lobby and wait for me all day.

"Well," I said, "seems like it might be hard for you to get any work done that way."

It reminds me of someone I dated someone briefly last spring. Let's call him X.

X pushed things between us to become serious and exclusive (I'm not a huge fan of exclusive dating. What's the point, unless I plan on marrying someone?), and then quickly decided things weren't working out because he needed "to be free and to see what else was out there." This was after he already already made ridiculous declarations of his love for me within our first month of dating (which made me extremely uncomfortable because WHO DOES THAT?!?).

While I wasn't particularly happy that X had insisted I jump through hoops to "commit to an exclusive relationship with him" when I clearly didn't want to be exclusive only for him to realize that he needed to be "free," I didn't object too much because if I were honest, I agreed with him. Plus, I don't want to be with anyone who needs to see "what else is out there" before knowing if they want to be with me. If they haven't already figured it out, then they ought to go find out without my participation.

X was an inappropriate partner for me in every way possible. The only reason we began to date was because I had just ended a very important relationship with A (who is amazing and now a close friend), and I was in a vulnerable state. X had been persistently pursuing me for over a year, and he happened to call and ask me out at a time where it was hard for me to say no.

A month after X ended things, he came back and wanted to try again because he thought he had made a mistake, and he missed me. I had started to come out of my A-break-up-induced funk by then, and I didn't cooperate with X's attempts to restart things because he wasn't someone I wanted to be with. I was polite. I went through the motions of going on a date with X, but...eh.

I don't trust wishy washy people, especially men. There's something about wishy-washy men that reminds me of temperamental children. They always want the shiniest and newest toys, but they lose interest quickly. I've heard my share of stories about wishy-washy men who decide, after 20 years of marriage, a mortgage and 3 children, that married life isn't for them. It's sad and a little selfish for them to make that decision with disregard for how their actions will affect their ex-wives and children. If that's the way they felt, perhaps they ought to have realized that before having a family? Anyone who starts throwing "I love you" around after only a month of dating someone is one of those men.

After X's second attempt to "date" me, I didn't hear from him for a while. Then, I ran into him a few times, and we were polite to each other each time. I had no hard feelings towards him, and I can't imagine that he'd me mad at me in any way. The last time I ran into him, he called me within minutes of seeing me to ask if I wanted to stop by his home to check out ___________ (insert whatever hook here, like art, gadget, whatever). I may have an annoying tendency to take people at face value, but I am not completely naive. I politely declined.

Since then, X occasionally emails, texts or calls (and usually leaves vmails, since I almost always screen calls unless I'm in a rush). It seems to happen about once a month, probably when he's a little bored and lonely and wonders where his friends are or what everyone's up to. According to my apartment super, a man fitting X's description even stopped by my apartment once to ask if I still lived there. Every once in a while (about three or four times now), I'll get a voicemail from X telling me he's at my gym and hoping to run into me. (I live in the West Village, he lives on the East side, and we both have gyms within 2 blocks of our respective apartments.) While I want to tell X to bugger off, I don't because we operate in similar social circles and I would prefer things to remain friendly. But, I do think that X is a stalker if I've seen one.

Women and alcohol

More women are drinking, and the women who drink are drinking more, in some cases matching their male peers. This is the kind of inequality nobody was fighting for. Alex Morris explores this in Gender Bender.

“You just adjust what you’re saying,” ... “Sometimes I’m like, I’m an alcoholic. Sometimes I’m like, I just drink a lot. Workaholic. Alcoholic. Workaholic. Alcoholic. How do you know if you have a problem?” She takes a sip and shrugs.

I don't have anything against women that drink. I fall into the demographic of women that drink and drink often. I barely drank in high school or college. I started drinking in my mid 20s and my tolerance has grown since then.

I started drinking as a way to socialize both in and out of the workplace after college. When I began to work long hours in a high pressure male-dominated environment, I started to drink more.

I drank in part because I was overworked and overstressed. When I'm short on personal time, I tend to party harder to compensate for my lack of free time. I loved the rush of working under intense pressure, drinking and partying until I was so tired my eyes couldn't stay open, forcing myself to get up after 3 hours of sleep, still hung over, only to repeat the process. Being that busy and exhausted allowed me to avoid thinking about how I didn't have a life besides work. I didn't have to reflect on whether I was "happy." The rush of always being on the go, of always being under pressure, of always being extremely busy, of always having yet another crisis to solve was addictive. I loved the sudden clearheadedness and certainty I had for every decision I made. It helped me feel like I (and my job) made a difference in the world.

Then again, I'm always at my best in emergencies and under extreme pressure. The more I'm overscheduled and stressed, the more I want to take on more both professionally and personally. If I worked 14 hour days, I'd start training for a marathon. If I worked 12 hour days and was training for a marathon, I'd start volunteering at a local elementary school once a week. If I worked 12 hour days, was training for a marathon, was already volunteering at an elementary school, I'd start swimming every other day just to see how far I could push my body. See the pattern? People (me) with personalities to tolerate extremes are attracted to jobs that demand those extremes. Short of doing drugs, which I have neither the interest or aptitude for, drinking heavily was the fastest and most socially acceptable way to burn the candle at both ends.

Then, there was the matter of gender and environment. In a male dominated environment, drinking was sometimes the only thing I had in common with my male counterparts. I had no interest in sport spreads, gambling or golf, and my co-workers could care less about windsurfing, sustainable agricultural practices or the latest Barbara Bui collection. So, we drank because that was the one way we could all show how big our BSDs were. Sometimes, I won. Sometimes, they won.

While the reasons I started drinking are similar to some of the reasons women drink in Morris' article, I wouldn't have kept drinking if I didn't like it. Fortunately for my liver, I no longer drink for any other reason than because I want to, and I try not to drink to excess. As Morris points out, there's nothing wrong with women that drink. It's just notable and somewhat unfortunate that women feel they need to drink in order to fit in with their male counterparts.

However, even without the pressure of fitting in with male counterparts, women have started drinking as much if not even more than males. Statistics have shown an increase of women that binge drink, which is unhealthy. But, while it's true that binge drinking isn't good for you, the general American definition of binge drinking for women is 4 or more alcoholic drinks in a row. Four (or more) drinks in a row seems like a normal night out with the girls, so perhaps I'm proving Morris' point. Which probably also explains why I don't think increased number of women drinkers is a big deal, although I do find Morris' article interesting.

Excerpts I found interesting:

That more women are drinking, yes—more than 48 percent acknowledge having had at least one drink in the past month (up from 42 percent in 1992). But beyond that, the women who drink are drinking more. The number of women who identify as moderate-to-heavy drinkers has risen in the last ten years, while the number of women who say they are light drinkers has declined. At the same time, men are reining in their drinking, meaning that the gender gap of alcohol consumption is narrowing all the time.

“As women ‘immigrated’ into the culture that was once unique to men...they picked up a lot of the same mores and attitudes and behaviors and ideas about what is socially acceptable that men had previously held. We call this acculturation—people adopt the drinking attitude and behaviors of the dominant culture.” Which explains why researchers have found that women in the demographic closest to being dominant (young, white, middle-class, educated) are leading the charge in terms of increased alcohol consumption.

The transition from high school to college marks the greatest increase in substance abuse among women, and the more educated a woman is, the more likely she will be to drink throughout her life. “College campuses are the place where drinking norms are set for educated individuals,” says Jon Morgenstern, a professor of psychiatry and vice-president at the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse. “The rate of drinking is astronomical. College is really a training ground for becoming an alcoholic.” And these days, the gender gap on campus is reversed: Fifty-five percent of college students who meet the clinical criteria for alcohol abuse are female.

The rate of frequent binge drinking increased by 124 percent between 1993 and 2001 at all-female colleges. When Amstel Light began marketing directly to women, its sales volume reportedly went up by 13 percent. Suddenly, alcohol commercials weren’t just of the big-breasted, mud-wrestling lineage. A Dewar’s ad from the era showed a lovely young woman donning her work clothes while a bare-chested man slept in the bed beside her. Tagline: “You finally have a real job, a real place, and a real boyfriend. How about a real drink?”

...Alcohol ads appeared during thirteen to fifteen of the most popular shows among teenagers and increasingly in women’s magazines, where according to Jernigan, in 2002 girls 12 to 20 saw 95 percent more ads for alcopops than women 21 and above. New alcopop flavors proliferated, Jell-O shooters showed up in grocery-store aisles, and companies rolled out vodkas in increasingly exotic flavors. “How many guys are going to drink a strawberry vodka?...There’s a clear effort by the industry to create products for female drinkers. And it has had an effect.”

Drinking has become entwined with progressive feminism. “I don’t think that the drinking in and of itself is feminist, but I do think that it comes from a feminist place, that it can bolster one’s sense of herself as liberated... You know, the whole point of Third Wave feminism is that individual choice should not be judged. If you choose to opt out and be a stay-at-home mom, then that’s your choice.” And if you choose to drink yourself unconscious in some random guy’s bed, that’s also your prerogative. To say that you shouldn’t would be paternalistic hand-wringing, implying that a woman needs to be protected from herself.

But the paradox of a woman exerting her power by making herself, to one degree or another, incapacitated does not read as a disjunction to most of the women I spoke with. On the contrary, a woman’s control over her life—and the decision of when and how to lose that control—seems to be the point.

Uh oh, gold diggers may soon have to find real jobs!

With the market in serious trouble, well-to-do bankers and hedge fund guys in search of arm candy is harder to come by.

...being unemployed is not hot. Real estate broker Sammy, a 37-year-old "single girl in the dating scene" (who would rather keep her real name private so that her boss doesn't know she's a gold digger), wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Will I knowingly date somebody who is in the sh--ter right now? Probably not." Sophie agrees, "I would never go out with someone who came up to me and said, 'I don't have a job.' " Emilaya shakes her head. "No, no, no." Even the non-English speaker shakes her head no. It's universal: No banking job, no service.

Engineers Explain Women

Women, Repeat This: Don’t Ask, Don’t Get

From the New York Times, by LINDA BABCOCK

Published: April 6, 2008

ABOUT 10 years ago, I heard that my boss was recommending two of my male colleagues for promotion. Both of these men had joined the faculty the same year I was hired, both were good teachers, and both had published important research. They were certainly qualified to move to the next level, from associate professor to full professor.

But so was I. I figured it was just a matter of time before my boss stopped by my office with the good news that he was promoting me, too. So I waited. And waited. As time passed, it became clear that I might be waiting a very long time.

Finally, I worked up the nerve to talk to him about it. I vividly remember his reaction. A big smile spread across his face. “Well, let’s promote you, too!” he said.

When my two male colleagues had asked to be promoted, my boss, seeing that they met all the requirements, readily agreed. Since he was a busy man, he didn’t stop to think about who else was ready for promotion. A question was posed, he answered it, and he went on to the next problem.

About three years later, I held my boss’s job. While hiring two people with similar credentials, a woman and a man, I made each the same salary offer. The woman accepted the offer without negotiating. The man bargained hard, and I had to raise his offer by about 10 percent before he would agree to it.

In between these two events, I watched similar situations play out among my students and friends. Time and again, I saw women accept the status quo, take what they were offered and wait for someone else to decide what they deserved. Men asked for what they wanted and usually got what they asked for.

Prompted by these experiences, I started a research project with several colleagues to study how and when men and women initiate negotiations. In my book “Women Don’t Ask,” I laid out overwhelming evidence that women are much less likely than men to use negotiation to promote their goals and wishes.

With my co-author, Sara Laschever, I also showed that this problem extends into most realms of a woman’s life, hampering her success not just at work but also at home and in her dealings with everyone else in her world: contractors, retailers, service providers, family members, even friends.

I also found strong evidence that this reluctance to promote their own interests is not an innate quality or a genetic blind spot in women. As a society, we teach little girls (and I have a little girl, so I see this all the time) that it’s not nice or feminine or appropriate for them to focus on what they want and pursue their self-interest — and we don’t like it when they do.

The messages girls receive — from parents and teachers, from books they read, from movies and television shows they watch, and from behavior of the adults around them — can be so powerful that as women they may not even understand that their reluctance to ask for what they want is a learned behavior, and one that can be unlearned.

More recent research that I conducted with two colleagues, Hannah Bowles and Lei Lai, points to another reason that women don’t ask: They face a much chillier reaction — from men and from women — when they do negotiate for what they want.

Behavior that can lead a man to be seen as ambitious or a go-getter can brand a woman as too pushy and aggressive. She may be called rude names, receive negative evaluations based solely on her personal style instead of her work and find herself closed out of networks or opportunities from which she might benefit. My boss was pleased that I asked him for what I wanted. A lot of women aren’t so lucky.

I’ve concluded that this is a crucial leadership issue for any organization committed to sound management practices. When I realized that the woman I’d hired would be earning less than the man for doing equivalent work, I called her back and raised her salary. I couldn’t accept this disparity in my organization — not just because it was unfair but because I knew that it was bad for my organization, where it is crucial to attract and keep the best people.

Managers often watch talented women walk out the door when they discover that they’ve been treated inequitably. So good managers need to be on the lookout for these sorts of inequities and take steps to correct them.

THERE’S a lot that women can do, too. They can recognize more opportunities to negotiate and master basic negotiation skills. They can learn how to assess and strengthen their bargaining power; research, prepare and practice before their negotiations; and use strategies that won’t make them seem threatening and provoke a backlash.

I’ve also founded an organization, Progress (heinz.cmu.edu/progress), to teach young girls to negotiate. In partnership with the Girl Scouts, we’ve already developed a negotiation badge that takes girls through a series of 10 activities to develop their negotiation skills. We’ve created a video game that requires girls to negotiate in order to reach the highest levels and win.

We may not consciously realize that we’re tougher on assertive women than we are on men who behave in similar ways. But we need to be diligent on this score.

So the next time you react negatively to the behavior of a strong woman, stop yourself and say instead, “I’m glad she’s going after what she wants.”

Linda Babcock is James M. Walton professor of economics at the Heinz School at Carnegie Mellon University and the author, with Sara Laschever, of “Ask for It” (Bantam Books).

This reminds me of B

As B and I are coming upon our three year anniversary, I'm reminded of this forward I got a while back. B reminds me of Martha.

Let's say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"

And then, there is silence in the car.

To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.

And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let's see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Martha is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.

And Fred is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Martha is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.

And Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.

And Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...

"Fred," Martha says aloud.

"What?" says Fred, startled.

"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel so..."(She breaks down, sobbing.)

"What?" says Fred.

"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."

"There's no horse?" says Fred.

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.

"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.

"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says. (There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.

"What way?" says Fred.

"That way about time," says Martha.

"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

"Thank you, Fred," she says.

"Thank you," says Fred.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.

The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.

They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.

Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?"

And that's the difference between men and women.