Touchdown Therapy

We were drinking coffee at the time; coffee that tasted like it had been brewed days ago. It was stale, and it matched his mood. He was miserable. He sipped, he complained, he sipped, he cursed, he sipped, he gave up.

I had always known my older brother to be confident, positive and perseverant. I had never seen him like this.

It was like the Caramilk secret; an unsolved mystery. And the more he spoke, the more he alluded to it, women - he'll never understand them. It was easier to give up on them. But was it? Was it easier to throw in the towel? He called it acceptance. I called it a cop out.

I didn't say anything for a while. I let him vent. After some time he looked at me and said, "What?" I didn't realize it, but I was looking at him as if he had miraculously grown a pair of wings and was ready for take off. I was shocked! I mean, I always knew women sat around deliberating the ways of men; their style, their ideologies, their thought processes. But could it really be possible? As much as women didn't get men, the opposite was also true? Men didn't get women either? And as much as women became frustrated and hurt...wow....men did too?

Who knew?

"Sorry," I said to him, "Didn't mean to stare."
"Stop it then," he responded. So, I acquiesced.

He went on to talk about his friend Darren. How he had followed all of the advice Darren gave him. How Darren was happily married and Darren said this blah blah blah and none of Darren's advice had paid off and blah blah blah blah.....

Darren was an idiot. But I kept that to myself. As he went on singing Darren's praises, I tuned out.

This is the other side, I thought to myself. A man and woman have a relationship, a man and woman have a fight, the woman goes crying to her friends, but the man cares too? He gets upset? He even gets "emotional" sometimes. I experienced an epiphany.

The next morning, I performed my normal ritual; the drive-thru to pick up my medium tea, one sugar, one milk, with the bag in (yes, the bag must be in). I returned to the previous day's conversation:

Him: "You all lack simplicity."
Me: "You all lack understanding. You choose to make it difficult."
Him: "You make us guess."
Me: "You never ask."
Him: "You never get to the point of what's really bothering you."
Me: "You never want to listen to what's really bothering us."
Him: "That's because there's always something bothering you people."

At that point I stopped. It was going nowhere.

We met for a drink the next day. It was difficult to get a seat, after all it was peak playoff time; Super Bowl frenzy.

New York was playing Tampa Bay.

Watching a game of football was as annoying as listening to Tyra Banks speak; nothing made sense.

My eyes didn't know where to focus, I didn't understand the role of each player, and every time I thought maybe I was getting the hang of the game, it ended with a bunch of men falling all over one another. The next play started and they ended falling over one another - all over again!

"I give up," I announced.
"It's not that difficult. You just need to understand the basics of the game," he replied.
"Shoot, explain it to me." I wanted to learn.

He explained it in full, the whole point of the game, the various intricate strategies which each team employed, the rules, the fouls, the timelines, the conditions, what separated the exceptional from the mediocre, the whole kit and caboodle.

I got it. I understood. I smiled. It was now my turn.

"If I get what you're saying, the whole point here is the touchdown. That's the ultimate goal?" (Humor me readers, I was being a little "ditz-like" on purpose. There's a reason for it.)

Touchdown Therapy - Page 2

Article Submitted by:
Jessica R. Gera

Back To Exposure Online Magazine