Guide to Mindreading

It’s difficult not to have misogynist thoughts when one woman is bothering you. Or even specific isolated incidences of being bothered in a specific way by every woman you’ve ever come in close contact with. And when those incidences have their significance buoyed through commiserating with every guy you’ve ever met talking about every woman they’ve ever met, it gets very difficult indeed to curb one’s misogynist impulses. Generalizing is an easy and therefore lazy pastime, and we men are nothing if not lazy. But: give us credit, us men, we usually end our bitching and moaning with the catchall “but I’m no picnic either.”

It’s true. We’re not picnics. Not a one of us human beings. The end amen hallelujah.

And of course we have to come crawling back, because what else are we going to do? Just play video games at Matt’s house for the rest of eternity? That would be even more pointless than trying to guess why our girlfriends are currently angry. It could goddamned be anything. Probably this time it’s because we’d rather be playing video games at Matt’s house than sitting around with our girlfriends trying to apologize for any number of things that they might be angry about, which will only make them more angry because:

A. We’re so thickheaded we DON’T EVEN KNOW what they’re angry about, and;

B. They’re also angry about all the things we’re guessing wrong about too, only they’re not even thinking of those other things right now, but now that you mention those things in the form of an apology, they’re angry about those other things too, so thanks for reminding them of these other great reasons to be angry.

I clearly have no idea how it works in the womanbrain, but it seems to me, having been through plenty of times like these, that sometimes women enjoy being angry. It’s like how they sometimes eat their food slowly and then talk about the food instead of just eating until they’re not hungry, or like how they want an elaborate thirty minute foreplay routine before sex. I’m generalizing here. But maybe there’s something to it. I don’t know. All I know is what I’ve been through, and in my experience, women seem to enjoy being angry at me. I give them plenty of reasons, believe me. I’m no picnic.

At least we know they are angry. We should get credit for that. If you’re not talking or making eye contact during dinner, then you are angry. We know that much. We never get credit for that, because OF COURSE I’M ANGRY, and the real problem is we don’t always put the “will this possibly make her angry” filter in front of everything we say or do, but we feel like we should get credit for even knowing when they’re angry. We’re usually not good at knowing how other people feel unless they tell us verbally, us men (and I’m generalizing, but women are no picnic either), so the fact that we even know you’re angry at something should be a source of some kind of… I don’t know, acknowledgement. Just because it would be perfectly acceptable to us to just continue on our merry way not giving a shit. So: good work, us. We know she’s angry.

But WHY? Why, this time, is she angry? And, more importantly, what the fuck are we supposed to do about it?

Well, guessing is probably a bad idea, for reasons already stated. Blanket apologies are often taken as condescending and therefore are fruitless. Snide remarks, like “I apologize for whatever the fuck it is I’m supposed to be sorry for,” only escalate things.

By the way, if you could read a man’s thoughts they would take on one of three general tones:

1. Passing thoughts of various degrees of importance that have nothing to do with other people, such as work-related thoughts about how to reorganize that one spreadsheet, or the lyrics to “Mr. Postman” and what they really mean, or “I wonder what I’d look like in a beard,” or “Burritos are great because it’s like a meal where you also eat the plate. Like the tortilla is a special sleeping bag-style plate instead of a regular mattress-style plate and all the food is snugly wrapped in it. That’s probably how bears feel about eating people in sleeping bags. Or not bears. Lions, maybe. Rabid lions.”

2. Blowjobs. How to get them, how good they feel, what we’d do for one right now, etc.

3. Please please please don’t let this be a big fight. Please please please please just let this rest. Oh God. This is going to be bad. This is going to be a huge bummer. This is a huge bummer already, but it’s probably going to be even worse. Oh God. What do I do? Man, she is angry. What did I say? What was it? Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll just make it worse. She’ll tell me. She’s just waiting to tell me. She wants me to suffer first. Well, fuck her. I don’t feel like suffering. If she feels like being angry, that’s on her. I’m going to enjoy myself until it’s time to have this big argument. Yeah, might as well. This is nice wine. Check in with her. Maybe I can save this. “Isn’t this nice wine?” Oh man. It’s going to be a big one. I wish this could just be nice right now like how it is sometimes with holding hands and walking and joking around like pals. But nope. It’s not going to be like that. Not tonight. Great. I could be at Matt’s house playing video games right now, and instead I’m here waiting for my spanking. I’m sitting here volunteering for spanking duty right now. Like a sucker. Fuck this. I wish I had a time machine to go back fifteen minutes and tell myself to shut the fuck up with whatever it was that I was about to say. You know what? A time machine wouldn’t even help me. It’s always going to be something. She just wants to be angry. Man. There is nothing I can do. Not even a time machine would help me. This is so… sucky. I wish I had known it was going to be like this tonight. I’ve got to start figuring out the advanced warning signs of when it’s going to be like this. Are there any? I don’t think there are, but maybe I’m just too stupid to figure them out. I’m definitely too stupid to stop myself from saying stuff that makes her angry, it makes sense that I’m too stupid to figure out when a huge fight is brewing. Maybe it’s the third time she says “whatever you want” when I ask her if she wants to eat somewhere. I don’t care where we eat. I’ll eat anything. I’ve told her that. If it really was up to me, “whatever I want,” we’d already be eating at the first place I suggested. Fuck her for being such a picky eater. Yeah, I should just call it off if there’s any kind of restaurant decision being made. But then what am I supposed to do? Say, “I can see where this is going, I’m going to go play video games at Matt’s house?” That wouldn’t work either. And sometimes I do just want to have a nice dinner with my girlfriend. I mean, that’s a pretty basic maneuver, I can’t just cut that out of our regimen. Man, I’m fucked. This is definitely going to be a big fight. Just agree with her when it happens. Just agree and it will end sooner. And then you can tell her about your side… later? Yeah, maybe. Sometime when it’s calm and nobody’s angry you can tell her how you feel. Fingers crossed that such a time will happen. Soon. Ever. I’d settle for “ever.” Compliment her on her hair or something. Here comes the waiter.

Dudes, and I’m generalizing about how much we’re not a picnic, have one of three of those thoughts at any given time. It’s off in our own world, trying to figure out what we can do to make our world better through things like blowjobs, and trying to react to our world as it is. We’re pretty simple. All we need is a little time to ourselves to help us come up with our burrito theories, a blowjob every once in a while, and for women to tell us exactly what to do with our lives. Simple.

But the question still is, “What the fuck are you supposed to do?” Well it’s a bad question because there’s nothing you really can do. The only thing you can do is ask her if she’s angry and if so would she want to talk about it, and if she says no, then you’ve done all you can in that moment. You just have to sit there and chew your food. And try not to worry too much. And keep in mind that you do this all the time, too. Like when you know that you’re angry so you don’t want to talk about whatever it is until later when you’re not angry because you know you’re angry and you know if you did talk about it now it’d come out in the form of irrational defensive yelling that you feel a need to indulge in because you’re currently angry and hurt. She’s doing that right now. Give her credit. It’s not your job to read her mind anymore. Your job is to read her mind BEFORE you say whatever dumbshit thing it was that you said that made her angry in the first place. Get it right, Einstein.

And how do you do that? You don’t. You can’t. Not all the time. Except sometimes you do. And you will never get credit for the times you don’t say something stupid. Because if you did, it would be the same as saying the stupid thing that you stopped yourself from saying. Nope. Sorry, pal. You’re a dude, and I’m generalizing here, and your lot in life is to get hammered for the stupid things you say without ever getting one ounce of recognition for all the effort you’ve put into not saying all the stupid things you thought of saying but didn’t say. And that’s just it. If you’re not cool with that, you should just go to Matt’s house and play video games until you get your head out of your ass.

And maybe you’ve got a point about how you don’t feel like you’re ever forgiven for saying something stupid, but she’s probably biting her tongue as often as you do. Probably even more often. You say a lot of really really stupid shit. No matter how much of it you stop yourself from saying, a lot of it slips out. And who knows how much she’s letting slide. Probably a lot.

Maybe you’ve also got a point about how it always seems like bad timing where you’re out trying to have a nice dinner or something and then all of a sudden it’s like you’re in “mad at you” jail. But maybe you’re just such a thickheaded boor that this is the only thing that gets through to you. Did you ever think of that? Maybe these ugly little scenes are the best way of reminding you that your girlfriend’s happiness is directly related to your own ability to be happy in any given situation, and if you can’t consider her feelings, at least you should be able to consider your own and do what she asks of you out of a sense of self-preservation. Especially if that’s the only motivation you’re capable of understanding, you selfish prick. You really are a selfish prick. But: and I might be generalizing here, but every human being on the face of the planet is essentially a selfish prick, and that’s why every human being on the face of the planet is essentially not a picnic.

So suck it up.

Or else don’t. Call Matt. You might as well be honest if that’s what you really want to do with your time. Except Matt has his own girlfriend. He can’t play video games all the time, either. Of course he wants to, but he can’t. His life is not a picnic.

Actually, maybe you should go on a picnic with your girlfriend. That’s probably what she’s trying to tell you. By not being one.