We play games when we become half of a whole, one of a pair, members of the same club, partners in life. It falls under presumption. Because wasn’t everyone’s youth exactly the same as ours? Same flavor of dysfunction, same traditions of love, hate, passive aggressiveness and etiquette. If only it were so easy. I’m still waiting for my marriage syllabus. Apparently the damned thing is on backorder, or maybe it was delivered to my neighbor’s wife by mistake. An error which should prove useful for her in her present situation with three children, deceased in-laws, a gas guzzler and a poodle.

Okay, sarcasm aside, (although it was fun, wasn’t it?) I’ve been thinking about the notions of “dropping hints” (not to be confused with “reading between the lines”). Mister Hombre told me, straight men don’t take hints, you must tell us exactly what you want. Okay, I get it, and I appreciate the brief glimpse of the secret decoder ring which is key to communicating with the lascivious American male. I prefer direct communication, and I appreciate it can be easier on some levels to communicate with men than women. Mystery solved, but not so fast…My man may not be receptive to taking hints, but he frequently drops them… less like hot potatoes and more like fumbling a football. Excuse me, you’re changing the rules? I thought only women were authorized to change the rules.

The Mister doesn’t drop hints like, “Wow, it’s been a long time since we ate cheesecake.” His method is more like, “I need to go visit my folks,” but he says this four times in less then twelve hours, which really means,”will you go with me?” or when he says,”Family member ‘x’ isn’t feeling well” and he says it more than once, what he really means is, “Family member ‘x’ is sick, would you please call, because when you don’t call, then I look bad”. Rather than admit he has expectations of how I should behave in the traditions of his family and friends, he’s cryptic and tries to convince me these are my ideas.

I doubt the Mister considers this manipulative. I suspect, he’s trying to appear undemanding, while he attempts to diffuse situations. As far as the big picture is concerned, it’s mostly an issue of semantics. He doesn’t want to TELL me I should do something, because he’s concerned that he might look oppressive. He doesn’t want to ask me either, because asking requires humility. Humility can lead to indebtedness, and face it, most of us (especially myself) detest the thought of owing anybody anything.

Often, when the Mister drops a hint, he is trying to encourage me to say or ask something, I wouldn’t ask. A casual approach of steering the conversation, or chivalrous attempt at drawing me into one. It feels stifled, and artificial, more like a marketing attempt, than a gesture of inclusiveness. I don’t favor being confrontational about differences in opinion, but I don’t believe in misrepresenting myself either.

Both sexes drop hints, in the hope of casually transferring our desires to our partners. On some levels, we want them to share, our hopes, compassion for friends and family, and be so in tune they can read our minds. It’s a romantic ideal, but a misguided one. Most of us have engaged in arguments from misconstrued words that were never uttered, only hinted.

I used to play along with his hints, but have taken to ignoring them. Being too accommodating didn’t make me a better wife or him a better husband, it stripped clarity from communication. One problem with dropping hints is the lack of explicitness. Desires get lost in translation, and the the implicit interpretation becomes a clusterfuck of good intentions.

We joke about hints and we both forget ourselves and engage in the art of diplomatic steering attempts, then we suffer the snubs of being rebuffed, but when all else fails, we’re learning to ask.