They say that when two or more women get together, there is trouble brewing. I have a feeling that this is true, although I am not sure what kind of trouble. It is quite odd for me to write this, being a woman myself, but I have to say honestly that I am not certain what actually goes on in the minds of women. Especially those who get together to go for a long walk around the town: there they are: in their latest sports gear, usually dark colors (we must wear muted colors!), moving rather rapidly, almost flailing their arms up in the air a little too much, with an important look on their faces that says “I am a woman, I am important, I am not just a mother, I have brains too!” But of course, they are not just walking at an incredible speed. They are also talking at an incredible speed. I always wondered how in the world are they able to hear themselves, or each other, and who keeps track of the conversation, where the conversation is heading and how are they resolving anything at all?
Then there are women in coffeeshops, who look down on you for being a man (well, a particular man anyway) and somehow feel superior because of their femaleness or femininity or some such thing. And they talk over their Chai Teas (by the way, that means “tea tea” in case you were wondering, so it is kind of redundant), and they speak ever so quietly on some matters (“can you believe Bob or Sally said that to me?”) and loudly on others, more like statements really (“ridiculous!”). And then in the midst of a whispery talk comes the inevitable cackle! And this one is as looooooud as ever! So, it kind of sounds like this: whisssssssssss-shshshsh-sshshsaahshss-whissasassss and then ahah-haha-ghahah-gagagahaha. Well, I hope you get the idea of what I am trying to say here. I wonder when I hear the cackle emerging out of the quiet and serious ashes of the conversation, what was so funny…, no, hilarious about the whispery statement that was made previous to the cackle? It was as if they are planning a battle, something on the same scale as the battle of Dunkirk and then they break into laughter.
“Ok, do you have this straight? We shall meet at the 0800 hours at the foot of the bridge with no name. Have the supplies and the necessary information. The whole operation depends on the deliverables, do you understand? The enemy will be infiltrated and successfully removed by the night fall.”
“A-hahah-ahahahah-hahaha-gghahagahaggaga-cackle-cackle-cackle.”
Perhaps it all comes down to gossip. Perhaps all these women are really doing is engaging in a good old fashioned gossip about their co-workers or family members, or worse, their husbands. Perhaps I shouldn’t make a big deal about two or more women chit-chatting on a nice Saturday morning in a coffeeshop drinking their “tea teas.” Perhaps it is all quite innocent. Perhaps they have good intentions in the end. But like most good intentions, they end badly. And gossip is one of those insidious things that crawls into our bodies and minds, takes over and then it’s more and more difficult to get rid of the damn beast. One ends up discussing other people, instead of ideas. And we have all engaged in some form or the other.
Is gossip a “woman thing”? Do men gossip? Oh sure they do; they just do it in a manly way: “Hey Mike! See that guy over there? He used to work for me. He’s an asshole!” Women are just sometimes more obnoxious and incredibly loud about gossip, so it seems that it is the female of the species that is more prone to gossip.
In the end, it’s all kind of an emotional mish-mash, a plate of badly mashed potatoes that have been sitting on a kitchen counter for a while, and have gotten cold. It is good to clean the kitchen from time to time and make sure that there aren’t any cold plates of mashed potatoes, spaghetti or old beef stew laying around.
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