Men are subpar; women are genius.

We had a little Chinese food extravaganza luncheon in the office today for one of my coworker's birthday. While I was eating, facing out in my cubicle so that I could chit chat with people, another coworker (not the birthday girl) started talking to me.

I honestly don't remember what we were discussing... Oh! I told her that I had started reading "The Hobbit" to Jules this week and he was really liking it, despite my copy having no pictures. (I asked him: Do you have a brain? - Yes. Do you have an imagination? - Yes. Then let's give it a try, okay?) Midway through the unexpected party and all the wonderful descriptions of the dwarves, and Bilbo's discomfort, I could tell he was hooked. We don't read much, a few minutes before bed, only a couple of pages, but he likes it. Anyway, so I told her about my reading (by the way, if you never have, read "The Hobbit" out loud. Newsflash: Tolkien could write like a motherfucker) and she told me about hers: she's re-reading "A Wrinkle in Time." She said she read it in junior high and loved it, and it had taken her a little time to remember the title (I said, dude, next time ask me). I gave my whole-hearted support of her sitting down with one of my favorite books, and recommended "Meet the Austins." So, after we talked about that for a while, she mentioned that she had picked up a copy of "Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus." (Not sure about my capitalization there, and don't really care.) I laughed, a little, and said, "That book is still in print?" She said yes, and so I said, "I hope you didn't spend more than $1 on it!"

She said she hadn't, and then she told me she was really enjoying it. This woman has no mask. I always feel like she is exactly how she seems, and it's surprising to recognize that. She's fun, and funny, and a kind person, but she's also exactly that. I think she's not embarrassed or self-conscious at all about her interests and the gaps in her experiences, and she doesn't care if I think she's smart or stupid or clever or pretty; she just wants to talk, and learn, I think is what I'm trying to say. She recently got married, and I guess she wants to understand this man she has living full-time in her house now. It's pretty sweet, actually. We talked about how lots of the stuff is common sense stuff, but I just realized that even though I made fun of the book, me saying it's "common sense" is probably only possible thanks to books like this, and the others that I probably picked up in the Self Help section and sneaked peaks at when I worked at Crown a hundred years ago.

We talked about the usual ways men and women approach problems and the differences and similarities, and what we personally prefer, and it was a nice conversation. Her field is safety and she had to take a few psychology classes in college, and she spoke about what she was reading as if she was really, really interested in it. So even though I think that book is probably garbage, it was fun to talk to her about it and make connections to herself and to me. 

A few years ago I would NEVER have been moved to say this, but I really like almost all of the people I work with. 

I told her how, it just recently occured to me that my husband never tells me things are going to be OK. I only noticed this because I've had a few moments of (whatever. Don't think "despair" but okay, somewhere between singing songs and full-on freak out), I'm not sure how I described those moments to her. I think I just said, you know, when you think everything is going wrong and you suck and you have too much laundry to do and some parts of your job suck and you're old and sad about getting old and getting old sucks and are we raising Jules to be a curious, interested, engaged person. Okay, fine: I didn't say all that. But she knew what I meant, I think, about wanting some basic reassurement about the state of things: I said, it's kind of important to me to hear that. Otherwise, our worries and little problems turn into big ones. Never ending ones. And even if it's just a salve or a bandaid, hearing "It'll be OK" has meaning and comfort built right into it. But, Patrick, in tune with me as he is, sometimes gets it wrong. Hey, he's human. It's okay (see what I did there?).

I think I started thinking about this because of something that happened yesterday morning, before the Chinese food. I had a little confrontation with a man at my work. We have limited charging stations, and I had snagged one early at another building (still part of my department). There are signs posted that there is a 4 hour limit, and I was unable to go pick up my car within that time. I was about 45 minutes late. My coworker (not the birthday girl or the reader) had parked his plug-in hybrid at the other space, and had gone down to his car a few minutes before I did. He texted me to tell me that someone had parked a third plug-in hybrid in front of our cars, blocking us in. He had to go do whatever, so I told him I would take care of it. However, I think in the ensuing texts, he figured out that I was P.I.S.S.E.D., because he said, "I'm coming back." 

I had taken the security guard with me over to the cars, and she helped me find out whose car it was and when that guy finally came down to move it (it was probably there for 45 minutes), the two of us had a pretty intense conversation with him. I believe I used the word "bullshit" more than once (later I texted my coworker, "Bet you've never heard me swear so much!" I really didn't swear that much but I was embarrassed. He assured me that he wasn't scandalized. I don't know, I've had former coworkers fall on the ground the first time they hear me say the F word: I think they think I"m all proper or well-bred. Ha! Joke's on you, losers! Then he told me about his Greek mother, and that what I did was nothing compared to what she would have done). Anyway, I drove away for lunch, and the two of us continued texting about it. I was still upset and worried about possible retaliation if I reported what happened (even if my car was there too long, preventing me from leaving was pretty low), and we talked about some other incident-related fears, and then my coworker texted me this:

"Don't worry about it. It will be OK."

And you know what? I immediately settled down. Now, I don't know where he learned this or if he's a caring person or if at 33 years old, he's used to settling down middle aged women, but it was exactly the right thing to say. 

So while my coworker (not the birthday girl or the plug-in hybrid owner) and I talked about men and their confounding ways, I extolled on the virture of the words "It will be OK."

The guy who said it was sitting right next to us, behind the four foot cubicle wall. He couldn't see me but I'm sure he heard me. I hope he realizes I really appreciated what he had done.  

I haven't talked to Patrick about that part of the story yet. I probably should. I definitely will.