Stranger than fiction 9/28

Sunday, September 28, 2003

Editor's note: This column originally was published on Jan. 20, 1999. I'm not exactly sure why my in-laws gave us the "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" board game for Christmas. Maybe it's the long, cold silences that often occur between The Other Half and me when the in-laws are around. But that's not because we don't understand each other. It's because Mr. Half is constantly doing and saying stupid things while I'm perfect. Just kidding. We put the game up in the closet immediately. The writing on the box billed it as "the outrageous game that will change the way you see the opposite sex," and everyone knows ignorance is bliss. Then our friends Dirk and Sandra came for a visit. They're a young, beautiful couple just past the infancy of their relationship -- at that uncomfortable stage where the pure, blinding lust is waning and it's time to make some tough decisions. It's so unpopular these days to just come out and ask for commitments. Instead, we girls are supposed to go by "The Rules," a book that basically tells us to grow our hair long, wear bright colors and laugh like maniacs at everything our men say until they're infatuated enough to pop the question. Won't THEY be surprised after the wedding day! I'm not for that at all, and neither is Sandra. Take the conversation they had when Dirk bought her a gold necklace for Christmas and noticed she wasn't wearing it a couple weeks later. "You're not wearing the necklace," he said. "You want to give me a piece of jewelry I'll wear all the time, make it a ring!" Sandra said. Right on, girlfriend! Not that I'm a meddler, but it seemed only right to give them every opportunity to learn more about each other so they can get out of this weird stage and into a lifelong commitment. (Note: Every married couple wants to see their friends married. It's so the people who listen to our marital complaints will truly understand and sympathize.) So after the guys watched THEIR kind of game on Sunday -- Broncos vs. Jets -- I broke out OUR kind of game. You know, the touchy-feely kind. Here's how it works: The men and women divide into teams. The women get hourglass-shaped pieces to move around the board, no doubt to represent our figures. The men get pointy, cone-shaped pieces. 'Nuff said. The women put their pieces on Venus, the men put theirs on Mars. The object is to get to Earth first by guessing how a person of the other gender would answer a question. At least, that's what the directions said. I think the object is to make men lie like rugs. Mr. Half pulled a card from the men's stack. "The first thing I check out in a potential partner is her: A) eyes, B) body or C) ring finger," he read. "That's easy," I said. "It's B." He looked shocked and dismayed. "I marked that I check out her eyes!" OK. I met a couple of girls he dated before me, and I don't really remember either of them having great eyes. But I DO remember them having ample pairs of another body part. I don't think the game really brought Dirk and Sandra closer together, either. Especially when, after several turns, nobody's game piece had moved an inch toward Earth and we realized we didn't know each other at all. I finally got to move a couple spaces after predicting Mr. Half's answer to "I feel most romantic when: A) I just got a raise, B) my team wins or C) I've had a few drinks." Don't get me wrong, the game could be a lot of fun with the right kind of people. I'd suggest the kind with no potential for embarrassment. But the next time Dirk and Sandra are over, we're playing Monopoly. Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.