Joke (long)
Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine.
>
>He asked her out to a movie; she accepted; they had a pretty good
>time. A few nights later he asked her out to dinner, and again they
>enjoyed themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and
>after a while neither one of them was seeing anybody else.
>
>And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurred to
>Elaine, and, without really thinking, she said it aloud: 'Do you
>realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly
>six months?'
>
>And then there was silence in the car. To Elaine, it seemed like a
>very loud silence. She thought to herself: Gee, I wonder if it bothers
>him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our
>relationship; maybe he thought 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 was 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 was 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 was 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 was 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 Elaine was 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 Roger was thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day
>warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the rats.
>
>And Elaine was 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 was thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give
>them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up
>their....
>
>'Roger,' Elaine said aloud.
>
>'What?' said Roger, startled.
>
>'Please don't torture yourself like this,' she said, her eyes
>beginning to brim with tears. 'Maybe I should never have . . . I feel
>so . . .' (She breaks down, sobbing.)
>
>'What?' said 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?' said Roger.
>
>'You think I'm a fool, don't you?' Elaine said.
>
>'No!' said Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
>
>'It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time,' Elaine
>said.
>
>(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he could,
>tried to come up with a safe response. Finally he came up with one
>that he thought might work.)
>
>'Yes,' he said.
>
>(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
>
>'Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?' she said.
>
>'What way?' said Roger.
>
>'That way about time,' said Elaine.
>
>'Oh,' said Roger. 'Yes.'
>
>(Elaine turned to face him and gazed 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 said.
>
>'Thank you,' said Roger.
>
>Then he took her home, and she lay on her bed, a conflicted, tortured
>soul, and weep until dawn, whereas when Roger got back to his place,
>he opened a bag of Doritos, turned on the TV, and immediately became
>deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechs he
>never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind told 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
>figured 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
>ask: 'Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?'
>
>He asked her out to a movie; she accepted; they had a pretty good
>time. A few nights later he asked her out to dinner, and again they
>enjoyed themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and
>after a while neither one of them was seeing anybody else.
>
>And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurred to
>Elaine, and, without really thinking, she said it aloud: 'Do you
>realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly
>six months?'
>
>And then there was silence in the car. To Elaine, it seemed like a
>very loud silence. She thought to herself: Gee, I wonder if it bothers
>him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our
>relationship; maybe he thought 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 was 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 was 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 was 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 was 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 Elaine was 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 Roger was thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day
>warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the rats.
>
>And Elaine was 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 was thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give
>them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up
>their....
>
>'Roger,' Elaine said aloud.
>
>'What?' said Roger, startled.
>
>'Please don't torture yourself like this,' she said, her eyes
>beginning to brim with tears. 'Maybe I should never have . . . I feel
>so . . .' (She breaks down, sobbing.)
>
>'What?' said 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?' said Roger.
>
>'You think I'm a fool, don't you?' Elaine said.
>
>'No!' said Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
>
>'It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time,' Elaine
>said.
>
>(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he could,
>tried to come up with a safe response. Finally he came up with one
>that he thought might work.)
>
>'Yes,' he said.
>
>(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
>
>'Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?' she said.
>
>'What way?' said Roger.
>
>'That way about time,' said Elaine.
>
>'Oh,' said Roger. 'Yes.'
>
>(Elaine turned to face him and gazed 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 said.
>
>'Thank you,' said Roger.
>
>Then he took her home, and she lay on her bed, a conflicted, tortured
>soul, and weep until dawn, whereas when Roger got back to his place,
>he opened a bag of Doritos, turned on the TV, and immediately became
>deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechs he
>never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind told 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
>figured 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
>ask: 'Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?'
