On February 14, 1876, Alexander Graham Bell arrived at the patent office just two short hours before inventor Elisha Gray would show up to patent his own invention. Both men had independently designed devices that could transmit speech electrically; devices that would later come to be called the telephone.
Imagine, two men, one fantastic invention patented only hours apart. And yet, 129 years after its invention, men still don't have the first clue as to how the damned thing works when it comes to communicating with the opposite sex.
Shocking, I know! As hard as it is to believe, some men still live under the misconception that the telephone only receives calls and is incapable of dialing out, even if a woman has supplied him with the correct numbers to reach her. I guess they figure that if you can't figure out why they're not calling, then it simply isn't their job to tell you.
And even more surprising: After pleading with you to give him a call sometime, if he is on the other line talking Popular Mechanics, NBA playoff scores or the size of the hooters on Miss July (all of which he can discuss with another male in less than 17 seconds) he will refuse to click over to answer your call, a call he knows is coming from you because he can see your name on his caller I.D. Then later, he pretends that, like a sock in the washing machine of life, your message mysteriously disappeared, never to reach him, which is the excuse he will use more often than not for not calling you back.
After several disappointments and more than my share of heartbreak, I have had a semi-piphany. I have decided that it is high time that we women flip the script; that we treat men with the same non-courtesy that they have been showing us since the invention of the telephone.
And do you know what my little experiment has taught me? That when treated with the disrespect they continually show us, men can't handle the rejection that comes with giving out your phone number and waiting by the phone, willing it to ring. They crumble like whiny little beotches and resort to woman-like behavior: They call us. Over and over and over again, looking for some sort of explanation as to how we could treat them so irreverently. It's as if they expect us to explain why we aren't returning their calls. Hell, if they can't figure it out, is it really our job to explain it to them? And why should we? So that we can train them to be better in their next relationship? Humbug! Not my responsibility. Oddly, the whole thing is very freeing; I can almost see why men are such buttholios!
Case in point: I received a call from a dating service that I'd signed up with months ago. Elaine, matchmaker extraordinaire (just ask her), called and said that she'd given my number to the most handsome, successful, incredible man, a former country radio station sales manager-turned-time-share salesman and she felt sure we would be perfect together. Of course, being that I'm in the middle of a self-inflicted dry spell, I was excited at the prospect of meeting this man.
He called and he was indeed a charmer, so charming, in fact, that I invited him to join my colleagues and me out for a drink at Kona Grill.
He wasn't there more than five minutes when he informed me that he wasn't actually a member of the dating service, but a close friend of the lady who sets the dates. This information infuriated me for obvious reasons. He went on to tell me that he wasn't like most men because he would never lie to me. (Girls, just as a side note, if a man tells you in the first five minutes of conversation that he will never lie to you, he is lying to you.) Then he told me that he couldn't date a woman who dates a lot of men, so basically, if I wanted to see him, I'd have to put a halt to my dating crusade. I didn't laugh in his face, but I wanted to.
The next day, I called the dating service to complain about being set up with a nonmember. Elaine not only assured me that she would never dream of fixing me up with someone who hadn't matched my investment, but went on to say that Jim had been a member for years! What a creep! Why lie about something so stupid? As if that wasn't enough of a reason for me to decide that I wasn't interested in seeing him again, my phone rang. It was a close girlfriend of mine informing me that my date at Kona the other night had just called and asked her out. Creep!
Instead of continuing my past female dating behavioral pattern and calling him up to give him a piece of my mind, I decided to let him choke on the same medicine that men have been serving women since the creation of the telephone: I stopped returning his calls.
And just like that, he morphed into the female and I took on the role of the coward ... I mean the nonconfrontational male. So he called and he called and he called some more. Geez, I suddenly had a pang of guilt for the opposite sex, for cryin' out loud. If the person you're pursuing doesn't return your calls for one day, it's no big deal; two days, perhaps an oversight; but when you've called incessantly to no avail—give it up! Desperation is so very unattractive!
In the grand scheme of things, do I think Jim learned his lesson? No, he still calls, but I somehow feel like I made one small step for womankind.
The score is now: Women—1, Alexander Graham Bell—0!
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?