Sunny Side Up Feb. 12, 2003 � 2003, Kathleen Gibson Sometimes men really are vegetables Man brain. Woman brain. It�s THE DIFFERENCE that complicates every romance. A few summers ago, we had a family crisis. The Preacher and I took a l-o-n-g drive�to lick our wounds in the privacy of the car, so to speak. For most of our marriage we�ve driven clunkers without working radios. It�s made for good conversations�usually. That day we traveled five hours in stone-cold silence. Oh, except for the part at the very start, when I asked, �Do you wanna talk or just drive?� He stared straight ahead. �Drive.� We�d been struck by an emotional cyclone. He needed time to assess the damage, determine future strategy. After twenty-six years of marriage, I know this about him. I expect this of him. Most days I accept this from him�sometimes with grace even. Not that day. I glared out my window. Made a face. Lifted my right shoulder. Wrinkled my nose, shut my eyes, pushed out my lips, and silently mouthed, �Dr�i�.ve-UH.� Then I settled into my iceberg fortress, dug in my crampons, and committed to muteness. Not a syllable till he took his turn. We stopped for supper, at a spot we�d tried once, years ago. I wasn�t hungry. I didn�t feel like sitting across from him either. I shifted my plate a quarter turn west, then a half rotation east. Inspected the seeds in my cucumber, took inventory of the cherry tomatoes. Never once lifted my eyes. Now he wanted to talk. �How�s your salad?� My words had been swarming about in my head for five hours. Like tired bees, they�d retreated into their hive. Up went my shoulder�the left one this time. It nearly met the downturned corner of my mouth. I saw every twitch, as though I were parked at the next table, observing. I hated it. �Hmm.� �Not much has changed in this place, has it?� �Mmmm.� A few more half-hearted attempts, and he quit trying. The atmosphere was as thick as the layer of dead bugs on our radiator grill. And equally inviting. We were able to talk and pray about that problem eventually, to remember our shared vision, our committed partnership. We usually do. But I crave to understand why God wired men and women so differently. The Preacher read a recent book on that very subject. He learned stuff that�s enhanced our own marriage. He buys the book for wedding gifts. He talks about it to everyone. He uses it in his marriage counseling. Finally I read it too. Do you know that when you ask a man what he�s thinking and he says �Nothing�, it�s really true? Men have a �mental blank spot that they move into without warning.� For a moment, they are literally vegetables. The book is called �Men are Clams, Women are Crowbars�, by David Clarke, Promise Press. (I accidentally keep calling it: �Men are Clams, Women make Clam Chowder.� The Preacher says that�s true too.) Happy Valentine�s Day, sweethearts. And read that book. If you have thoughts of your own send them to [email protected] |
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