Law of the Stag...

My friend L has just returned from a long weekend away.

It was a stag weekend so I called him today, just to make sure he wasn't still tied to a railway track somewhere...(however if he was, I am unsure if he would have been able to answer.)
"So? How was it?" I enquire.
"Really good," he answers me still with half a throat missing...voice like gravel.
"The fact you have no voice suggests it was more than good...what did you get up to?" Ever the curious.
"Oh no," he says, "what happens at the stag, stays at the stag."
Indignant I end up changing the subject, however I am not surprised he doesn't want to tell me...he knows it could end up in a blog. Nevertheless something else he says does indeed end up being a focus of conversation later with Pootle.

With all boys fed and watered we share a spag Bol and a cuppa...she tells me about her day, and I tell her about mine...we are happy to acknowledge that we are becoming like an old married couple.

"What is it about misunderstandings between men and women?" She mentions through mouthfuls of spaghetti.
"Funnily enough, L mentioned something like that to me today...and I mentioned it to the mum's at the school. There is something about the way men speak to the way women converse."
"Men are more literal?" She suggests.
"Exactly. They need to be bloody mind readers to understand women...whereas we need to understand that for the majority of the time, what they say is what they mean."

In fact he gave me an example; when women want picking up from the airport and they agree to meet you in the car park...actually they don't mean that at all, they mean meet me at the gate with flowers...regardless of whether or not they actually said; 'yes I will see you at level 3, blue car park at 5.'

The mums at the school concurred..."god yes, if my husband asks me if something wrong and I say 'nothing' regardless of my sarcastic tone that goes with it, he will accept it. Whereas if he has an issue he just comes right out and says it."

Hmm...the art of communication, eh?

Pootle expands a little on the issue of communicating, "you know I had a message from that German man again, his messages even sound German...broken English."
"Were you expecting them to sound Russian?"
She smiles, "but he is so typically German, I would bet he even draws a little map for the position with the maximum love making potential."
I consider this, "they do make good cars, excellent engineering and all that...it could be a good thing."
She shrugs as if considering this a little more herself. "I wonder if different nationalities are different?"
"More than likely. Certainly the Spanish like to be mothered," I say with a wry smile.
"The English like it with the lights off in case we have less than perfect bodies."
"Italians?"
"No idea...but I have a good friend I could ask."
"Hmmm," says Pootle with a grin, "what about Americans?"
"With Stetsons and room service of MacDonalds?"
"Or health freaks with yoga positions?"
"Well, if I come back to the room and there is a Stetson on the door I know to make my way back to the bar, eh?" I suggest.
"Absolutely, after all...to quote L, what happens in New York, stays in New York."