Men and women … the never-ending game … the mystery … the temptress and the tempted … the Adam and the Eve … the one who can dress for a wedding in a minute and a half and the one who starts laying out “ensembles” the day after someone’s proposal is announced. …
Two random episodes:
Sitting outside a restaurant, after leaving the smoky bar to get some fresh air. (Who knew bars were still smoky? I thought the only place anybody in the country could sneak a Camel now was the basement of an abandoned tobacco warehouse in Cleveland. People who smoke are nuts, not to mention smelly, but I don’t believe in legislating everything in the universe from leaf-blowers to car seats–don’t you have to ride in a car seat until you’re, like, 23 now?–and if somebody wants to light up, it’s his decision, bless his over-taxed heart!)
So, I’m sitting on a little stone wall, and about 10 feet away are two girls and a guy, talking earnestly. One girl had broken up with her boyfriend “because, God, he is so not ready to commit, you know? I mean, I’m like ready to get married and have kids, and he’s all like, ‘What?’ and I just said, God, forget it.”
The other girl says, “Yeah, but you’re already a mom. You have Sparky!”
The first girl giggles, “Yeah, Sparky’s my baby! Same thing!” (Fine. Whatever.)
But, the second girl goes on, “No, honestly, I think walking a dog is the same as, like, changing a diaper, really. When Dave walks Chester, I think that shows he’s ready to take care of a baby, you know?”
The guy–who has wisely stayed quiet so far–snorts involuntarily into his beer and almost needs CPR.
This is the younger generation? They think walking a dog is the same as changing a diaper, which is the main prerequisite for becoming a dad? I, myself, snorted involuntarily and almost fell off the little stone wall.
The second male-female encounter involved our neighbors, a couple with three kids, a mortgage and a great sense of humor. They came by last night and we talked in the driveway for a few minutes before the wife said, “Come on, Pooh [not his real name], you promised we’d stop for a minute and then take our walk.”
Pooh looked at me, mystified. “Can you believe it? The kids are out, the house is empty. I say, ‘Snugglebunny [not her real name, either], we need some quality time. [He wiggles his eyebrows.] And she wants to take a walk!” She smacks him playfully on the arm.
Always thinking outside the box, I say, “Why don’t you split the difference? Run really hard from here back home to your bedroom, and then … uh … burn some additional calories for the next few hours.” She smacks me on the arm, too, and off they go, still teasing contentedly after 25 years.
As I watch them go, I wonder when it was that they knew changing a diaper wasn’t all there was to parenthood. And, I noticed, also, that they don’t have a dog.