I’m sure you’ve seen this happening as much as I have: You and your wife have finished an evening in a friend’s place, have had dinner, spent time on long conversations, covering many topics, and then it’s time to go. You and the missus walk to the doorstep, you say goodbye to the man of the house, and then when you’ve taken a few steps out realize your wife and his haven’t finished what you think are their goodbyes.
You wonder, and as you watch your friend, you realize he’s also wondering, how a simple goodbye can stretch so long. You both come closer to the ‘scene of the extended goodbyes,’ and to both your astonishments, understand they are not saying goodbye. They are actually conversing on an entirely new topic, some subject that could have easily been handled during dinner, before dinner or even after, but the doorstep is the one and only place which inspired them to start their new dialogue.
“It’s called the ‘hating to part,” said a psychologist looking at me wisely.
“It sounds like a syndrome where they are just making conversation so they don’t have to say goodbye?” I asked a little incredulously.
“Absolutely!” said the mind doctor, “It’s not just hating to part, but hating to part to go home with you?”
“Why?” I whispered looking crestfallen, “What wrong have I done?”
“Not just you, but all mankind,” said the lady psychologist giving me a sad lopsided accusing look, “You see they know once they leave each other, it’s back to the monologue they will have with their men, with you talking back with just a monosyllabic rejoinder, sometimes to over a paragraph and sometimes pages of lines they have spoken!”
“That’s because men are so busy,” I said unhappily.
“Yes, of course,” said the doctor, a little too sharply “Cricket matches, or Arnob shutting everybody else on TV, the latest film on Netflix, you men are very busy indeed!”
“I don’t know,” I said hopelessly.
“Now it’s also the internet, chat, facebook, twitter, oh there’s so much to do, while the wife is speaking!”
I watched the two women talking with each other and then watched as they glanced at us their husbands, pretended we were not there and continued with a new topic or was it the second episode of the first topic or a new chapter of an old event, it didn’t matter.
We stood, we watched. I, my watch, and my friend the door of his house as the mosquitoes came in and the ladies continued their conversation, oblivious to everything but their need not to part with each other..!

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Read…
DARE by Robert Clements.
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