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Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine.
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 Elaine, 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 Elaine,
it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to
herself: Geez, 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 Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine 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 toward... 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 Roger
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
Elaine 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 Roger 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 Elaine 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 Roger is thinking: They'll probably say
it's only a 90-day
warranty...scumbags.
And Elaine 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 Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give
them
a warranty. I'll take their warranty and shove it
................
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says
Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes
beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe
I should never have... Oh
gosh, I feel so..." (She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a
fool," Elaine 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 Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.
No!" says
Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that...it's that I... I need some time," Elaine says.
(There
is a 15-second pause while Roger, 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.
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.) "Oh, Roger, do you
really
feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Roger.
"That way about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger.
"Yes..."
(Elaine 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, Roger," she says.
"Thank
you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted,
tortured soul, and weeps until
dawn, whereas when Roger 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 tennis match
between two Czechoslovakians he 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
Elaine 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, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual
friend of his and Elaine's,
will pause just before serving,
frown, and say:
"Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
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