Venus Syndrome

As someone hailing from an all-boys school, it wouldn't surprise anyone to know that we all used to think of the girls behind convent walls as exotic aliens hailing from another planet. While my straight brethren were all too keen to delve into their feminine mysteries, I preferred to do my clinical observations from afar. Far safer sometimes I should think.

Accordingly the passage of time with numerous platonic intimacies and workplace relationships has certainly served to open my eyes when it comes to the undeniable vagaries of womanhood ... but I'll admit they can still frequently confound me. 

Even more so when one of the duennas told me of her experiences entering the marriage mart.

Mabel : I've been trying to date this guy actually but he doesn't seem to get my hints.

Paul : You do know men can be utterly obtuse most of the time, right? 

Mabel : But I spelled it out clearly. In fact I told him to come here since there were plenty of work opportunities here. 

Paul : That sounds as if you just offered him a job.

Mabel : But it's implied that I am here!

Paul : No, it's implied that you just offered him a job. 

Mabel : But I was flirting!

Paul : You basically handed him a job application. 

Obviously Marvellous Mabel speaks perfect Venusian.

Though it has become quite apparent that none of the boys she likes can understand a single word of her unfamiliar language full of inferences and insinuations. From time to time, women tend to forget that the men really are from Mars - and they don't take subtle hints all that well. Stereotypically straight men would simply take the spoken words literally at face value without reading further into the hidden implications thereafter. 

Spell it out seriously. In bright neon signs if possible. 

Mabel : Oh, he's holding my hand! Does he like me? Is he dancing with me because he likes me or because his parents have approved of me? What will this mean? Will he ask me out tomorrow? What will I wear? Hope I don't stain my dress. Is he a good man? Maybe I should ask around.
Beau : I'm hungry. When's dinner?  

Accustomed to the cruel, intricate female politics at play in the Domicile for Dogmatic Duennas, Mabel clearly assumes that all men play the same highly complex games. Apparently forgetting that the common man is assuredly simple with clearly defined wants and needs, and blindingly obvious likes and dislikes, which he probably has no qualms about articulating. 

So in a bid to translate to Martian what she was thinking we all decided to write out an invitation for her much abused new beau. 

Mabel : Don't make it too obvious!

Paul : Short of showing up at his doorstep brazenly dressed in a thong and raincoat, everything else might sail past his head. 

Mabel : Really?

Paul : Yes, really. How about asking him out for the party this weekend? 

Mabel : Isn't that far too obvious? 

Paul : It's a party. 

Mabel : But what if he thinks that it -

Paul : He thinks it's a party. 

Mabel : But what if he thinks that it -

Paul : He will think it's a party. And that's it. 

Really. It's simple. Don't read so much into it. The boys don't.