GoFuckYourself.com - Adult Webmaster Forum - The difference between men and women.

Its long, but just read the 1st couple paragraphs and you'll be hooked. Its worth it.

Let's say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her
out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights
later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They
continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them
is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Martha,
and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of
tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"

And then, there is silence in the car.

To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I
wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined
by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind
of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.

And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of
relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have
time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are,
moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to
keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward
marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that
level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let's see...February when we
started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's,
which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil
change here.

And Martha is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm
reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship,
more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed
it - that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why
he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of
being rejected.

And Fred is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission
again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right.
And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold
weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage
truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Martha is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry,
too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I
feel. I'm just not sure.

And Fred is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty.
Scumballs.

And Martha is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight
to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a
perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care
about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain
because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a
warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their...

"Fred," Martha says aloud.

"What?" says Fred, startled.

"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to
brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel so..." (She
breaks down, sobbing.)

"What?" says Fred.

"I'm such a fool," Martha sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really
know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."

"There's no horse?" says Fred.

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Martha says.

"No!" says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.

"It's just that...it's that I...I need some time," Martha says. (There is a
15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up
with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might
work.)

"Yes," he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

"Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?" she says.

"What way?" says Fred.

"That way about time," says Martha.

"Oh," says Fred. "Yes." (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his
eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next,
especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

"Thank you, Fred," she says.

"Thank you," says Fred.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured
soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he
opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply
involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota
junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses
of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the
car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what,
and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it.

The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them,
and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In
painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he
said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression,
and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe
months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored
with it either.

Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of
his and Martha's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did
Martha ever own a horse?"

And that's the difference between men and women.