A Four-Letter Word Men Hate to Hear
Published By Mark E. Elswick
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Mark E. Elswick
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Mark E. Elswick
Over the weekend, I learned that I am—by male birthright—an important sounding board to women. While I am sure that this blog will be agreed with by most guys, I am as positive that women need to understand what we guys are thinking while in this listening mode. Be it a friend, girlfriend, fiancée, wife, or whatever, women sure can talk. Maybe females simply do, in fact, possess the Gift of Gab. (Even though that’s one gift I could go without opening.) Surprisingly for me, during this particular 90-minute-listening-session-of-my-day-which-I’ll-never-get-back, all was not lost; I learned something. This educational, albeit lengthy, moment revealed to me the one four-letter word that women say which really, really scares me, as well as it does most men. That word is simple, but it is as vile as all of the other four-letter words people should not use.
Add this word to that list.
It all began at 7:48 p.m. I remember that because I looked at the clock when she started telling her not—so-earth-shattering tale. Little did I know that my one, simple, question would turn into a 1 ½-hour response. Sure, I gave the occasional head nod, smile, frown, “no way,” and “uh-huh.” But—little did she know—in my head, I played out my entire plans for the week; rewound last week’s events; mulled over the career path I had chosen; thought about breakfast the next morning and dinner the next night; wondered why my parents named me Mark; laughed at some of the Bud Light commercials in my head; mulled over the problems that my Detroit Tigers are having…and fixed them; went through the 2011 season schedule, wondering if my Lions would win a few games; and even heard three brand new songs on the radio, all of which was followed with a smile and “uh huh.”
Immediately before her long-winded story (Don’t tell her I said that!) we grabbed some T-Bell and were on our way to have a drink or two at a local “establishment.” On the way, I asked her a simple (yeah right, it could have been called the beginning-of-the-end) question. If she would have said yes or no, we could have moved on and started an extremely enjoyable evening.
But, noooooooo! This was a female, after all.
What ensued told me to brace myself and hang on tight, for the ride was about to begin. Everything started going in slow motion. You know how things go ultra-slow in the movies and the characters “Taaallllllkkkkkkkk lllllllliiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeee ttttttthhhhhhhhhiiiiiiisssssssssss?????????” Yeah, it was that kind of weird slow-mo.
We pulled into our parking spot at the establishment, and I asked if she had seen a certain friend of ours, lately: simple, straighforward question, right?
Wrong!
As if I were a director, she answered the yes/no question as if I had just commanded, “Anddddddd ACT!”
She took her hand off of her coke in the console, and everything began moving in that super, almost painful, slow motion. Sheeeee reeeeaaaaccccheeeeddd ffffooooorrrrrr tttthhhhheeeee raaaaadioooo knnnnnobbbbbb to turn it down—not all the way, but just some--so her words could definitely be heard. Then, in addition to the slow mo, it was as if the spotlight flicked on and illuminated her. She looked at me and smiled.
“Well,” she began…
Nearly 90 minutes later, I had my answer—NO! She had not seen her and did not care to see her . . . ”EVER AGAIN!”
So, women, why did a question that could have been answered with a yes or no turn into a 90-minute soliloquy? I am not saying I do not want to talk or communicate, but c’mon. With that particular communication session over (o yeah, there will be more), I ran in and consumed ummmmmmm more than a couple of well-deserved drinks.
O yeah, the word I was referring to earlier that I now fear? Well, the four-letter word that men hate hearing come from a woman’s lips is simply . . . “Then.” I think I heard “Then,” at least 42 times in the car last night—I lost count at 11. Every time I thought she was done talking and we were going in to have our drink–BAM–she would do it again. She would perk up with that radiant smile and booming from her lips–in super-slo-mo–would come another, “Ttthhhhhheeeeeeeennnnnnn.” . . .
Overall, it turned out to be a good night. However, immediately after dinner was, well, brutal.
Then, at 9:18 . . . GOTCHA!
There is no more. After all, I’m a guy.