Insight

It is a situation that has played out over and over in my long, tumultuous dating career. I am sitting on the couch, watching a movie or my favorite sitcom. My right arm is draped around the shoulders of a girl whose head is on my chest. She looks at me and smiles, I get a little uncomfortable at the stare that she starts to give me, then she says the words…

“Jake?”

“Uh huh?”

“What are you thinking?”

Being that I am male, there are only three possible categories of true answers that can possibly fit the question. The first, and most common for most men would the standard ‘nothing’. Men, unlike women, can actually be thinking nothing and be quite happy for sometime, requiring quiet time for our heads as well as our ears.

Although ‘nothing’ is the most common verbal answer to the question, it is most likely not the most common actual answer. In reality, at most given times, there are two types of things that are occupying our minds. The first would be something so vulgar, disgusting, or rude that if it were to come out of our mouths, you would never stop kicking us in the nuts.

I have been told that it is as of yet inappropriate to talk to girls we are dating about such things as dreams of their sisters doing things that are beyond description to a squad of female college cheerleaders. This is especially true in the early stages of dating. Unfortunately, honesty only goes so far when dealing with women. I learned this the hard way, forcing me to get in the habit of wearing a cup on all of my first dates.

It is said that a man thinks about sex once every 8 seconds. In truth, this is an approximation. Once every 8 seconds is an average, when the approximation takes into account the time we are asleep and not in REM, the number drops to every 5 seconds, and the average duration of the thought is 3 seconds, which means 60% of our thoughts are about sex.

In all honesty women, the thoughts are usually about us and another woman, or you with other women, or other women with other women, or us and you and other women. Well, you get the point.

The second type of thought that mills about in the brain of ours is usually the type that makes us look like morons. They are things that are so ridiculous that if we were to actually admit them to a women, they might have us declared clinically brain dead and try to have us euthanized. They are things that you might overhear guys talking about when they are hanging out with other guys.

Take my brother and me, for example. We are two smashing young men of intelligence that is far beyond average, yet every time we hang out, we tend to get into the most ridiculous conversations imaginable.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“You’re telling me that you think that the professor got more action than anyone else on that island?”

“Ok, think about it, jackass! There are two single women on the island and three single dudes. The skipper is a fatty and Gilligan is functionally retarded, who do you think is going to get the most tail?”

“Mr. Howell!”

“Fuckhead, his wife is there, and she looks like she is quite a ways past menopause, of course he is going to get some from his wife!”

“No dude, I am talking about him nailing Ginger and Mary Ann.”

“What would Ginger and Mary Ann possibly see in his old ass?”

“Money, dude!”

“They live on a fucking desert island, asshole! What the fuck are they going to do with money? Not to mention, do you really think Mrs. Howell is cool with her husband banging a couple of other chicks?”

“They can do it when she is out picking berries or something.”

“You know how fast information travels in a small town? Think about how fast it travels in a community of seven! This whole thing is stupid! The show didn’t make any sense anyway!”

“How so?”

“Who the fuck takes a trunk of goddamn clothing, a chemistry set, or encyclopedias on a three hour tour? How far could they have possibly gone out to sea in those three hours? What kind of professor was he?”

“How would it matter what kind of professor he was?”

“How the hell would a philosophy professor know rare languages and chemistry?”

“Ok, you have a point."

“I know I have a point.”

Besides waxing intellectual about the sexual exploits of the castaways on Gilligan’s Island, (and in public, scaring away potential dates), we have argued over the directing prowess of Spielberg and Kubrick; debated who would be a better running back, Spider-Man or the Hulk; and discussed who would be the victor in a no-holds-barred fight between Superman and Jesus.

These things that we find important are mere trivia for women. These are things that they just don’t appreciate, and if we tried to explain what kinds of Kryptonite have what effect on Clark Kent, the conversation would just get lost in translation.

Besides the gratuitous, ‘nothing’ answer, there is always the I-am-trying-to-score-points-by-telling-you-a-bold-faced-lie answer…

“I’m just thinking of you, babe.”

This is only true in rare occasions. In the case it is true, it rarely if ever involves our feelings for you. We aren’t thinking of running across a field, hand in hand, with our as of yet unborn children in tow. There is no white picket fence surrounding a two story house in the suburbs, and I guarantee you, there is no minivan in the driveway.

The overly sweet answer of ‘I’m thinking of you’ has a way of backfiring horridly. One lie leads to another when you expect us to elaborate on the thought that wasn’t in our head in the first place.

“What about me?”

I am now engaged in a conversation that I did not want to be in when we sat down for the movie. I try to kill it as swiftly and vaguely as possible.

“Oh you know, stuff…”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are…!”

…When you’re quiet.