Swallowing The Bullet

All right, so I was sitting there on the couch Sunday, minding my own beeswax when suddenly it dawns on me that someone is talking. Somewhere in the back of my mind an alarm bell went off, but a little person in a football uniform quickly hit the snooze button and the sense of impeding dread subsided. I continued to watch the football game on TV oblivious to the storm clouds gathering to my right. A while later, perhaps three plays or maybe after a slow-mo replay, I again became aware of some noises emanating from my right that might have been construed as human speech.

Female speech.

This time the little guy wasn’t quite as quick and the alarm set off a chain reaction of events within the confines of my football-hazed mind that allowed me to do what all men learn to do as a means of self-preservation at a very young age. I waited until there was a break in the flow of speech-noise to my right and made a non-committal grunt.

A little history about the noise I made, known to scholars throughout the ages as the ‘Male Grunt’. It is something that every man knows how to do almost instinctively, a kind of nasal humming noise made for the sole purpose of appeasing a talkative mate. Long ago, in simpler times when fire was new and exciting, and the wheel had not been invented and hence there was no garage for the male caveman to retreat to in times of great stress, the grunt came into being. Female Neanderthals would try to strike up conversation with the males during times of inactivity. Our ancient ancestors were not stupid though, and quickly learned that hunting a saber-tooth tiger while wearing a suit of raw meat was preferable to ignoring their females should they wish to talk.

The men knew this because some actually tried it.

They also knew that it didn’t matter whether the male wished to talk or not. Male cavemen were taught at a very young age that their role in these discussions was to simply listen and sympathize with the female. Whether the conversation was inane, juvenile or completely unimportant was not the point. Whether he thought she was right or wrong, or simply insane was irrelevant. Being able to follow the conversation, or comprehend the ‘logic’ behind it was not necessary. He was merely required to ‘support’ her in her time of need regardless of his own thoughts on the subject. He was not to ‘find a solution’ or ‘fix’ anything. He was merely to listen.

And so, the noncommittal male grunt was born.

Fire paled in survival importance next to the male grunt. Before the perfection of this grunt, there were many misunderstandings between male and female members of the tribes. Many battles were fought because one party ‘never listened’ or the other ‘never shut up’. These horrible battles and unfortunate deaths led to the creation of a new and vital social class within the tribes known as the marriage counselor. Most scholars agree that these marriage counselors probably invented the noncommittal grunt to help them survive the terminally boring sessions with their clients. It is highly probable then, that the males in these sessions saw the benefit of this new sound and adopted it for their own uses.

Ancient man was no dummy.

Anywaste, back to my story. HoBiscuit my girlfriend, momentarily satisfied by my masterful male grunt, continued to make her conversational noises and I continued to watch the game. All was calm and good in GeekLand. Then, just as my team was running an interception back for a touchdown, HoBiscuit my girlfriend jumps in front of me, blocked my view of the TV, and asked me a dangerous question.

Pop quiz hotshot.

When a woman asks, “Is watching that game more important than listening to me?” you should;

1. Say, “Would ya’ leave me alone I’m watching the game!”
2. Say, “Of course not, my love. I was listening to you but became distracted by your figure. Have you lost weight?”
3. Turn up the volume on the TV and eat another pork rind. Or,
4. Swallow a bullet and call it a day.

What do you do, hotshot?

What. Do. You. Do?