Let me set the scene. Boy met girl eight months ago. Together, boy and girl frequent many social spots, but only in “friend” capacity. Sometime soon, an emotional paradigm shift transpires – a goodbye embrace seems different, conversation is modified to twinges of perceived flirtation, culminating in a post-cinema hangout session where unfamiliar elongated glances are traded. At the sixth glance, boy thinks to himself, ‘Should I just kiss her?’ But the brevity of the decision, mixed with the fear of the unknown and the risk of a foundational friendship makes him doubt. He conjures romantic maneuvers reminiscent of an early Richard Gere film. But it is not the movies, and he needs concrete evidence. If only he had proof, at this moment, in this instance, that this is what the girl wants from him – to take her in his arms and passionately smooch the night away ...
Being a comic book geek, I periodically think of mutant powers that would benefit me greatly in this world. The ability to fly would save me money and frustration due to traffic. The healthcare debate would not concern one who had the power to heal their own body. Moving objects with my mind would probably make me obese and lazy, but it would definitely be a great ice breaker at the bar. These mutant powers would be great, but I have recently conjured up a distinct power, seldom pondered, that would surely be met with wide acclaim – and that is the art of knowing what women want FROM ME.
Do not be confused. This isn’t some rip-off Mel Gibson plot. I don’t want to know what women want in general – I can do without ramblings on designer shoes, Cosmopolitan and Edward Cullen rolling around my head. I would just love to hear the Chris-specific mental desired command of the woman in immediate proximity. This power should not be limited to just significant others. If my mom is thinking I should go get her some dinner, I am up and heading to the nearest Subway without a word. If my employer, who is a woman, would really like my reports on her desk today by three instead of four, I comply, without a word from her. I know that having this power to rely upon would make the women in my life happier, and thus make my life easier.
This power may seem silly to most people, but many men stay in subtle confusion about what is desired of them as a son, husband or boyfriend. While communication is a weakness of the male gender, females have a hard time illuminating us on the real desires of their hearts and minds, leaving us to be Sherlock Holmes in outrageous bouts of mystery theater, where trial, error, flowers and “I‘m sorry” rule the day.
Oh, how I wish I had this power, for women to just tell me what they want. I know it sounds fifth grade, but I am pretty elementary at the core.