Let’s say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named
Elaine. 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 Elaine, 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 Elaine, it seems like a
very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, 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 Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine 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 toward . .
. 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 Roger 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 Elaine 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 Roger 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 goddamn garbage truck,
and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Elaine is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d
be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this,
but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90- day
warranty. That’s exactly what they’re gonna say, the scumballs.
And Elaine 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 Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give
them a goddamn warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it
right up their….
“Roger,” Elaine says aloud.
“What?” says Roger, startled.
“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes
beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have . .Oh
God, I feel so…..”
(She breaks down, sobbing.)
“What?” says Roger.
“I’m such a fool,” Elaine 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 Roger.
“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Elaine says.
“No!” says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
“It’s just that . . . It’s that I . . . I need some time,”
Elaine says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, 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.
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
“Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?” she says.
“What way?” says Roger.
“That way about time,” says Elaine.
“Oh,” says Roger. “Yes.”
(Elaine 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, Roger,” she says.
“Thank you,” says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted,
tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger 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 tennis
match between two Czechoslovakians he 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. (This is also
Roger’s policy regarding world hunger.)
The next day Elaine 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, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a
mutual friend of his and Elaine’s, will pause just before
serving, frown, and say: “Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?’