Men are Motorboat Mouths? Say It Can’t Be

Monday, May 31, 2004
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In the spirit of a lazy holiday, I’ll keep things light and humerous today.

Ok, I gotta have some fun with The Jackass on this one……(honestly, that’s what he calls himself) ;–)

He posts here about women and talking, as if this old cliche still stands. In fact, the old hahaha about women and talking, and about men and not talking, long went the way of dinosaur poop. Funny, I see so much of this on the Net lately, you know, linking to articles for the purpose of taking a slap at women, reminding us of how much they chatter, etc., so I just gotta chide in (And hey, I don’t have to talk to do it.)

If you ever read this old piece of mine, you’ll know that women drive me nuts, and I’m glad that I am one so I don’t have to have a relationship with one. (Phew) However, I must say this: the platitude about men not talking is plain bunkum. Men do nothing but yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. At work, they don’t shut up. At the gym, the men stop to yap, in large groups, and very loudly too. The yapping coming from the gym’s male locker room is earsplitting. Almost everywhere, men talk over you, they talk louder then you, and boy, do they ever like to talk about themselves.

Men, I love you so dearly, but here’s the blessed truth: I have never dated, been good friends with, had a relationship with, or went to dinner with a man that I could dare to try and outtalk. Not that I’d want to anyway, but just an observation. And the kicker is (and please, I don’t want to offend all my lovely friends with this, so forgive my lifelong observances) that one male academic can outtalk a table of fifty women drinking cheap, white zin at the National Gossip Fest championship event. Want a relationship with a successful male, or especially an academic? Prepare for a lot of talking, a lot of me, me, me, and take The Jackass’s advice and just use email.

For my blazingly superior “empirical study,” I talked to three men that I am close to, on this particular topic, in the days preceding this post, because I had long meant to bring up this funny topic, and they all acknowledged this and added to my observations, and in fact admitted they were guilty of such a thing.

Hint: after your third date with an academic, if they still don’t know whether or not your parents are alive, and if they still don’t have a clue where you work or what you do to pay the mortgage, then, well, Houston, I think we have a problem……..

Anyone want to donate a Blackberry unit to ;–)

P.S. — Though my male friends do tell me about (short) relationships they’ve had where at dinner, or on the phone, the woman, who they barely know yet, will talk, talk, talk non-stop about anything and everything irrelevant and uninteresting, including her hair, her shoes, her mother, sister, brother, the backyard squirrel, the five people that cut her off on the freeway that day, her job, the flu, a bad hair day, a new candle scent, whatever. Yikes–get me outta here!

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