It’s only four small words, a seemingly innocuous question. Yet
a question, the sound of which is worse than ten sets of
sharpened nails screeching across a mile-long blackboard – “What
are you thinking?”
It is a question men loathe and dread, mainly because much like
the meaning of life and world peace, there is no clear,
definitive answer. Often, the answer truly is nothing (or
nothing of significance). Yet, as women, often the question is
one we cannot stop from asking, particularly if we are feeling
uncertain or apprehensive. Perhaps a woman feels uneasy about
the status of a relationship and then, out of nowhere, with the
first pensive glance or scowl to cross her man’s face, the
question comes out of her mouth, virtually unstoppable. The
question takes on a life and mind of its own, leaving us
helpless victims compelled to utter the question.
First, I tried logic to free myself from the compulsion. Logic
dictates that it’s too broad a question and doesn’t really lend
itself for what I want to know. Specificity, yes, that was it
exactly (or so I thought). I would force myself to ask clearly
and directly what I wanted to know rather than ask the dreaded
question. But, to no avail, the question still popped into my
head and straight out of my mouth before I could stop it. I
resigned myself to my fate. I would go through life as a victim
of my own compulsion.
Then it happened. You see, aside from the very real possibility
that the answer is truly nothing, or nothing of value (which is
usually the case), there also lies the possibility that it is
something you really don’t want to hear or know at that
particular moment. And it didn’t happen that I ever asked the
question and received knowledge of something I did not want to
hear. Oh no, it was much, much worse. I was asked the question!
It was quite possibly one of the worst dates of my life. The
type of date that reminds you some fates are far worse than
torture and death. Even prison seemed a brighter, more appealing
option than another hour on this date (and I look terrible in
flip-flops and orange), one I wished would end quickly. We were
finally in the car driving me home and he was telling a story
that seemed to go on forever when he paused and asked, “What are
you thinking?” I was dumbfounded – my mind a whirl of possible
explanations and answers. Do I tell him something simple? Do I
tell him the actual truth – that given the relatively smooth
terrain to the side of the road, I am calculating at what speed
could I safely jump from the moving vehicle and maintain minimal
physical damage? Do I just jump now (as we were approaching a
stop sign) and escape the question altogether? In just a brief,
few seconds, these thousand thoughts going through my head in a
vicious flurry when suddenly, a soothing thought entered into my
head. I looked at him, smiled, and said “nothing.”
>From that moment on, the cycle was broken and I was free from
ever uttering the question again! The cure was as simple as
having the question asked to me.