Oh the Complexities of Man!

True story.  I was eating lunch in a Washington-area restaurant yesterday (take that Al-Qaeda!) and I happened to sit at a table next to two women in their late twenties/early thirties.  I wasn't trying to eavesdrop - really, I wasn't - but one of the ladies had a very piercing New York voice and I don't think anyone in the restaurant could have avoided overhearing if they wanted to.  I really don't think the woman was staging her discussion for public consumption either.  I think she was just into talking and rather loudly at that.  And boy, could she talk.  The stream was endless and untiring; a verbal river flowed forth and the tide was high.  Her friend sat across from her contributing an occasional "uh huh" or "oh?"  Her back was to me, so I couldn't see if her face was contorted in agony, paralyzed with boredom, or radiant with rapped attention.  The occasional I'm-still-alive grunts were not much to go on.  Knowing the die was cast and my options were few, I put away my book and settled into my chicken Cæsar salad and held on for the ride.

The first fifteen minutes were devoted to her love/hate relationships with the various places she'd lived.  She used this time to build momentum and set her rhythm.  "I loved it in [mumble, mumble].  The people there are real, you know?  I mean, when they ask you how you're doing, they really  want to know how you're doing, you know.  Not like [mumble, mumble].  There everyone is so self-focused - its disgusting."  Evidently there was no sense of community in where ever the ill-favored place was.  People treated her as if she had no input, as if she were not important.  But in happy-mumble-mumble-land she was "validated" and "affirmed."  You know?  (There was nothing obvious from the "uh-huh" lady to reveal her thoughts on this tale of two cities, or to indicate one way or the other whether she did indeed know.)

After warming the engines and having settled into a comfortable cruising altitude, she steered a course, as I knew she would, to the endlessly interesting and rich topic of men and all their unfathomabilities.  I was not particularly surprised that she had just had a breakup with her most recent boyfriend.  "It's like he'd said he'd call, but he wouldn't.  I would get so mad.  And he would always go on trips and I began to wonder - where is he really?  You know?  I mean, where was he really going when he would go on those trips.  I mean, where was he really?"  She just couldn't understand men.  She never knew what they were thinking or what they really meant when they said something.  They were a puzzlement.  The other lady "mmm"-ed noncommittally.  This topic monopolized the remainder of their lunch and having not solved the eternal mysteries of man over their soy lattes, they were forced to gather their things and leave just as fascinated and unsatisfied as I imagine they were when they sat down.  As they were leaving I happened to look over at another table nearby where a couple in their fifties were eating their lunch.  The lady caught my eye, smiled, and rolled her eyes.

The restaurant was fairly busy and it wasn't long after the women were out the door when two men sat down at the same table.  They were also in their late twenties/early thirties.  They didn't bother to brush the crumbs off.  Their conversation started almost immediately.  It was an obviously friendly debate with much give and take and analysis.  The topic?  The pluses and minuses of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese versus Velveeta Cheese Shells.