My ex and I always saw the world differently and have vastly different methods of comminication. While I am by trade a writer and communicator, she’s at heart an artist from an entire family that loves the arts but can’t express their thoughts accurately to save their lives.
The most poignant example is probably Jackson Pollock. We argued about his work for more than five years because to me his later stuff just looked like colored snot shot onto paper. She insisted it was important, but could never describe why.
When finally one night we watched a special together the relevance of why he did what he did was laid out before me and I said, “Oh! Why didn’t you ever just tell me that?”
There are, of course, a million more examples, but she got the memory of them in the divorce.
I’ve been running for more than 15 years now, and took up triathlons a few years ago. My wife’s expresses interest only in the negative sense, as in: “Must you work out every day?”. Last night, we were trying to figure out how my three teenage sons and I could participate in a fund raiser triathlon.
me and boys: blah blah blah
Me: I’m the only one with a road bike, so I’ve got to do that leg.
Her: I don’t understand what the problem is. Aren’t there four events?
Sounds like me and Mr. brown. He can’t remember the plot of a movie we saw last month, but he can remember the details down to the sub-atomic level of every. freaking. car. on. the. road.
Whereas I can recite our menu choices at a Parisian bistro we ate at five years ago, and he rolls his eyes while I do so.
Hmmm… this seems to be a common trait amongst men.
I’ve finally convinced The Boy that when there is more hole than fabric, it’s probably time to throw them out and get a new pair. It just drove me bonkers that he could happily slip on a pair of ratty old underpants and insist they’re comfier because the holes provide “air conditioning” for his man-bits. :rolleyes:
Now if only I could talk him out of walking past the bedroom window buck naked until we can get around to buying some drapes… the neighbours have been giving me dirty looks lately and I’m worried they’ll soon resort to flaming dog poo to make their point.
I just had that fight with my fiance a few days ago. About an hour later, I realized I’m dumb. He laughed when I admitted that. But I still have some other issues about the wedding I will fight tooth and nail about.
Yes, but of somewhat a different style / tradition to those of D&D that Lynn Bodoni described. Also, again depending on the source / tradition there may be no real difference between the two.
In The HobbitTolkien used *goblin *for the small cave-dwelling variety of nasty that lived in the Misty Mountains, and *hobgoblin *and *orc *for larger varieties elsewhere, but in *Lord of the Rings *the same creatures are almost universally referred to as orcs.
OMG YES!!! My girlfriend is ten years younger then I am. I made a joke about her being Punky Brewster (she was in mismatched shoelaces) and she looked at me like I had three heads…LOL.
Every time he starts explaining the battle mechanics of some table top gaming system in detail again. I just love knowing that, when my mage is attacked is by his thief using the thief’s daily power, it’s Dex vs Con +4 unless I get a save from my lightning boots. But the lightning boots don’t count if the daily power is also performed as an attack of opportunity!!! Powned!!
Can I have that 3cubic centimeters of brain space back, please?
My boyfriend grew up in rural (well, semi-rural) Wisconsin in a very blue-collar sort of family. I grew up in the Twin Cities with a very white-collar one. So sometimes our conversations will go a bit like this:
Me: I’m making crepes for dinner tonight!
Him: What’s a crepe?
Me: You don’t know what crepes are?
Him: No.
Me: :smack:
I’m sure there have been times where I’ve been on the other end of that exchange, though, so it evens out somewhat.
We do our laundry separately despite the fact that we both wear primarily dark colours and it really wouldn’t make any difference if we combined stuff in the machine. He never washes towels, that’s always left to me, and he never thinks to change or launder the bedding. That’s also my job.
We go to the supermarket together but buy our own groceries - perhaps that’s because we have separate bank accounts or something, but it only half makes sense since we share the cooking. He is utterly incapable of buying food for the cats, so since we ‘share’ them, I buy food for one cat, he buys it for the other, except that I have to pick out enough cans of tuna to last said cat until we next go shopping, and put them in his cart.
He firmly believes that he knows far more about the world situation and politics than any news reporter on the planet and consequently they are all wrong. So I cannot watch the news on television without having him constantly commenting on it to the point where I can’t actually hear what the genuine reporters are saying. Hence the reason why I watch the early evening news while he’s upstairs playing World of Soddin’ Warcrack, and leave him with the late night news so he can rant at it on his own.
There are plenty of other things, but that would just make this post a descent into whinging and whining. And who wants to read that kind of thing?
I’m totally stealing that for the next time one of my classmates looks at me funky when I claim to know something (generally, something scientific - most of my current classmates come from literature kind of backgrounds).
My wife grew up in the former Soviet Union. She didn’t come to the States until she was in her twenties. She has never seen Star Trek and Star Wars, so any references to either of them goes over her head. Hell, a lot of references to pop culture from the eighties and nineties are lost on her. What makes it funny is that her English is perfect and that she has almost has an American accent which can make it more jarring to a lot of people.
The city vs. country upbringing does result in a lot of these, don’t it?
I’ve told this one before, but: a few summers ago, we were at a petting zoo with her mother and stepdad and our little nephews. One of the animals there was a humongous pig, which the employee informed us was a “lard hog”, a pig raised for its lard rather than its pork.
After we left the park and dropped the kiddos off, we were talking about this pig. My wife, raised in the city, asked, “So, how do they get the lard out of the hog?” I didn’t quite know how to tell her. “Um. He doesn’t exactly give it up willingly.” Gasp! “You mean they kill them?!”
As she explained it, she apparently thought that they milked the pigs or something, and separated out the lard somehow, like churning butter out of milk. My wife, ladies and gentlemen.
The missionary kid from France at my old church had a BS from U. Virginia, but having spent almost all his previous time in France, he refused to play Trivia Pursuit at parties because he had no idea about probably half the questions. They were too American, which we would forget, because his English accent was from his American parents, so he didn’t stand out at all in that way.
My husband somehow manages to apply chemistry and physics to everyday life. And I don’t mean in a “how the universe/thing/molecule works” way, either. I’m talking on a more philosophical level.
So, we’ll be talking about childcare and suddenly he’ll bring up string theory.
We also sometimes disagree on particular word usage. For example, one day he came home and told me that his physical therapist, with whom he was working on his knee, advised him that his knee had atrophied. Since atrophy is typically associated with degeneration, I had to make sure that was what he meant. Turns out what his physican therapist had actually said was that the muscle in the side of his knee supporting his kneecap was weakened, causing the kneecap to slide around.
We balance each other out, though. I’m a pretty random person and form odd mental associations between situations and objects and experiences, so I’m sure he has plenty of those WTF moments with me, too.
