Dream: The Differences Between Men & Women
The setting is a party held in a large room of a house. It's modern-era. There are tables with place settings spread around the room. The host is seated in his favorite chair-- a worn out brown leather wingback armchair with animal horns adorning the top of the chair-- which is located front and center in the room. The other tables, couches, and chairs wrap around the room-- everything aimed towards the host. The whole party and discussion is intended to focus on him.
Attendees are asked to be seated for the plated dinner, but some are not interested in eating as they've eaten too many hors d'oeuvres.
Jordan, my husband, is in the dream. He chooses a seat across the room directly facing the host. This seat is a visible seat that indicates his dominance as a male. I notice a dirty plate in the setting immediately beside him and look around quickly for other settings and options nearby. There's what looks like an extra place setting between two tables, where nobody would use it if it were left there. Ultimately, I decide that I want to sit beside Jordan, and I can use the extra setting. I don't have much time as people filter in, the seating is filling up too.
I notice a bearded man sitting behind the setting is leaning over and laughing as he talks to the man beside him. It's obvious that he has set up this scenario-- that's his dirty plate. I take a deep breath, because I know I'm battling with his fragile (I'll explain the adjective choice in a bit) ego, and look him dead in the eyes as I say, "This is your dirty plate? Do you mind taking it to the kitchen?"
"How did you know it was mine," he questions.
"Because I heard you admit it to your friend." I gestured towards the gentleman seated beside him.
The stark contrast between the way each man held himself was obvious. The man on the left, an African-American man who was slightly over-dressed for the party in his double breasted suit, looked put together. Somehow, I could tell he had a strong female in his life-- a mother or grandmother because he was at the party alone. A girlfriend would have shown up to the event as it was very exclusive. The man to whom I am speaking is close to the same age as the African-American man he is seated beside-- they're both in their late 20's or early 30's. The brown-bearded Caucasian who left the dirty place setting is less composed. He's wearing a striped button-down shirt with no tie and blue jeans-- and is very under-dressed in his casual attire. He laughs at me with smiling eyes.
"Maybe it's mine, but maybe I'm not cleaning it up."
"I'm not your mother, it's your plate." I pick up the plate and extend it towards the man. My gaze is as steady as my arm (because I'm in my mid-20's in the dream... so I have my old athletic figure). "Take it to the kitchen." I gesture my head down towards the plate and then towards the kitchen.
The host sits in his chair curiously watching things unfold. The man looks at his friend, then my husband, and then back to the host. He can tell he's out of options, but he can't do the task without complaint and save face. He mutters to himself and then directs a snide, "Alright, princess, I'll take my plate to the kitchen." He snatches the plate and silverware and muttering something about women as he walks the 50-feet to the sink and dramatically places his dish in the sink.
"Happy now?" He says when he returns.
"No."
"Ah, so you're one of those women-- always changing her mind about what she wants."
"That's not the case," I reply.
I take a step to the clean place setting and pick it up. "A real gentleman would have cleaned up his plate without complaint and also moved the clean place setting for me."
He folds his arms and scoffs. With the drama still in motion, we're now starting to attract attention. I decide to capitalize on this with a subject I know everyone will enjoy.
"Men think that women are demanding and can never make up their minds. Women evolve to please our men. Things women do are frequently calculated to moves that we've evolved to match our man's tastes and his proclivities."
The crowd of onlookers increases in size as the women's eyes shine with that knowing look.
"Men, on the other hand, assume that women are the same as they are, and once they've figured out her tastes she's done evolving. That's because men are adverse to changing their ways."
I pause a moment, but he seems speechless. I take a few steps towards my husband and begin to place the clean setting beside him.
"Woman are constantly changing. Our hormones are cyclical, so our needs vary. In our child-bearing years, we're likely to want chocolate, a heating pad, and cuddles on days we've told you to leave us alone." A few knowing females nod in agreement. "But other days, we can't get enough of our men. We want to be dominated and cared for simultaneously."
"Men want the same things, and they want things to remain unchanging. For example, a favorite article of clothing that becomes worm and tattered-- a man would rather die than throw the loved garment into the trash. He wants it as a keepsake. The young woman wanting to please the man will often try to replace the clothing with something new that signifies he's well taken care of and pampered. But the changed woman will recognize that, when he's ready, he'll replace the garment... so she keeps a spare article of clothing-- a close match to the first-- at the ready, waiting for the moment he agrees the item is too far gone."
There's a chorus of nods in the crowd from the older, married women. I can see out of the corner of my eye as I turn towards my husband, that I've captured the host's attentions as well. As an older and wiser man, he knows better than to interrupt. I flash him a mischievous smile, "Other men have a favourite chair with worn out padding and frayed leather. Their wife may want to replace the chair or reupholster it, but their husband likes the chair as it is because it's comfortable and familiar. A new or reupholstered chair would need to be broken in again, and that process takes years. So, us women, wait for the chair to fall apart... before we make our man pick another."
The hosts eyes twinkle because he knows what I've said is true, but he doesn't want to draw attention to the fact.
I turn back to the brown-bearded gentleman, who is still grousing.
"Women want to raise our sons into men who will be able to find a woman who is their match. Strong women are drawn to men who can recognize a woman's needs. A mother will teach her son to clean his place at dinner because it signals to the woman that he's a man who can take care of things without being told to do the things that need to be done. To a woman, cleaning up a dirty plate signifies that man is more adaptable to fill her needs both in life as well as in the bedroom." A few wolf-whistles and laughs come from the crowd now watching the situation unfold. "A man puts out those signals by just taking the damn plate to the sink, whilst a boy will whine and complain about it the whole time." I raise my eyebrow at the bearded-boy.
"Such a man is cowed by the woman. Your man must be weak. He should have taken the plate."
Jordan grumbles uncomfortably, but I place my hand on his shoulder and flash a knowing smile and he settles down.
"My husband hasn't interfered with this situation because he knows I'm capable of dealing with it on my own. He's attractive to a strong woman like me because, when he sees I need his help, he helps... but he also recognizes my need for independence. He's not neglecting me.
My husband chose the seat he did because it signifies his strength. I wanted to sit beside him because I adapt, and this party is about male bonding and peacocking more than it's about the women. Tonight, we're just the eye-candy of the event. The place beside my husband was dirty, meaning I couldn't use it. He didn't clean it up because he lets me choose where I sit, and since you were the one to use the plate and leave a dirty plate in this setting and then you moved-- I couldn't move a plate here and sit beside him without cleaning it up... and that's why I asked you to clean it up-- A man cleans up his messes, and I was giving you the chance to signal to the ladies that you're a man worthy of her attentions."
I gesture to the crowd at a group of demure, young ladies who have taken in the scene and who are watching. The man's face begins to fill with rage as he realizes what's been done here tonight. His odds of having a woman follow him home tonight have diminished from the higher station women.
"Now, if I'd have sat somewhere else, my husband would have sat beside me-- because he wants to be with me and he honors my choices. Some men call this 'being whipped' which is exactly why I focused on the dirty plate beside him-- I've modified my tastes to honor my husband by showing that he can choose the spot. So, in a way, not cleaning up the place setting disrespects him as the more dominant male here."
It's at this point I finally sit beside my husband, my eyes are only for him. I tip my head up and Jordan's tilts down as we give one another a simple, chaste kiss.
A slow clap starts from across the room. The host is applauding. As the room notices where it began, it fills with applause. The applause dies down as he stands to ready his speech.
"Well, now, I expect every male in the room will be on his best behaviour tonight! I think that was enough of a speech to make any man hungry," he deflects, "so I believe it's time for dinner to begin."
... and here's where I wake up...
I am assuming, as part of the dream, this speech by the strong yet supportive wife, has drawn the host's attentions to my husband who will be invited to the parlor to discuss more business related things-- for a man who is able to subdue a woman of such high mind is a great man indeed...
And the real reason I chose to make a scene was because I could recognize Jordan wanted to foster a relationship with the man, but he's not rude enough to march up to someone he doesn't know, without introduction, and request an audience. So, yes, my introverted self didn't blush and hide at the opportunity to make a scene.
It was a good dream. Wrote it down right away.
Attendees are asked to be seated for the plated dinner, but some are not interested in eating as they've eaten too many hors d'oeuvres.
Jordan, my husband, is in the dream. He chooses a seat across the room directly facing the host. This seat is a visible seat that indicates his dominance as a male. I notice a dirty plate in the setting immediately beside him and look around quickly for other settings and options nearby. There's what looks like an extra place setting between two tables, where nobody would use it if it were left there. Ultimately, I decide that I want to sit beside Jordan, and I can use the extra setting. I don't have much time as people filter in, the seating is filling up too.
I notice a bearded man sitting behind the setting is leaning over and laughing as he talks to the man beside him. It's obvious that he has set up this scenario-- that's his dirty plate. I take a deep breath, because I know I'm battling with his fragile (I'll explain the adjective choice in a bit) ego, and look him dead in the eyes as I say, "This is your dirty plate? Do you mind taking it to the kitchen?"
"How did you know it was mine," he questions.
"Because I heard you admit it to your friend." I gestured towards the gentleman seated beside him.
The stark contrast between the way each man held himself was obvious. The man on the left, an African-American man who was slightly over-dressed for the party in his double breasted suit, looked put together. Somehow, I could tell he had a strong female in his life-- a mother or grandmother because he was at the party alone. A girlfriend would have shown up to the event as it was very exclusive. The man to whom I am speaking is close to the same age as the African-American man he is seated beside-- they're both in their late 20's or early 30's. The brown-bearded Caucasian who left the dirty place setting is less composed. He's wearing a striped button-down shirt with no tie and blue jeans-- and is very under-dressed in his casual attire. He laughs at me with smiling eyes.
"Maybe it's mine, but maybe I'm not cleaning it up."
"I'm not your mother, it's your plate." I pick up the plate and extend it towards the man. My gaze is as steady as my arm (because I'm in my mid-20's in the dream... so I have my old athletic figure). "Take it to the kitchen." I gesture my head down towards the plate and then towards the kitchen.
The host sits in his chair curiously watching things unfold. The man looks at his friend, then my husband, and then back to the host. He can tell he's out of options, but he can't do the task without complaint and save face. He mutters to himself and then directs a snide, "Alright, princess, I'll take my plate to the kitchen." He snatches the plate and silverware and muttering something about women as he walks the 50-feet to the sink and dramatically places his dish in the sink.
"Happy now?" He says when he returns.
"No."
"Ah, so you're one of those women-- always changing her mind about what she wants."
"That's not the case," I reply.
I take a step to the clean place setting and pick it up. "A real gentleman would have cleaned up his plate without complaint and also moved the clean place setting for me."
He folds his arms and scoffs. With the drama still in motion, we're now starting to attract attention. I decide to capitalize on this with a subject I know everyone will enjoy.
"Men think that women are demanding and can never make up their minds. Women evolve to please our men. Things women do are frequently calculated to moves that we've evolved to match our man's tastes and his proclivities."
The crowd of onlookers increases in size as the women's eyes shine with that knowing look.
"Men, on the other hand, assume that women are the same as they are, and once they've figured out her tastes she's done evolving. That's because men are adverse to changing their ways."
I pause a moment, but he seems speechless. I take a few steps towards my husband and begin to place the clean setting beside him.
"Woman are constantly changing. Our hormones are cyclical, so our needs vary. In our child-bearing years, we're likely to want chocolate, a heating pad, and cuddles on days we've told you to leave us alone." A few knowing females nod in agreement. "But other days, we can't get enough of our men. We want to be dominated and cared for simultaneously."
"Men want the same things, and they want things to remain unchanging. For example, a favorite article of clothing that becomes worm and tattered-- a man would rather die than throw the loved garment into the trash. He wants it as a keepsake. The young woman wanting to please the man will often try to replace the clothing with something new that signifies he's well taken care of and pampered. But the changed woman will recognize that, when he's ready, he'll replace the garment... so she keeps a spare article of clothing-- a close match to the first-- at the ready, waiting for the moment he agrees the item is too far gone."
There's a chorus of nods in the crowd from the older, married women. I can see out of the corner of my eye as I turn towards my husband, that I've captured the host's attentions as well. As an older and wiser man, he knows better than to interrupt. I flash him a mischievous smile, "Other men have a favourite chair with worn out padding and frayed leather. Their wife may want to replace the chair or reupholster it, but their husband likes the chair as it is because it's comfortable and familiar. A new or reupholstered chair would need to be broken in again, and that process takes years. So, us women, wait for the chair to fall apart... before we make our man pick another."
The hosts eyes twinkle because he knows what I've said is true, but he doesn't want to draw attention to the fact.
I turn back to the brown-bearded gentleman, who is still grousing.
"Women want to raise our sons into men who will be able to find a woman who is their match. Strong women are drawn to men who can recognize a woman's needs. A mother will teach her son to clean his place at dinner because it signals to the woman that he's a man who can take care of things without being told to do the things that need to be done. To a woman, cleaning up a dirty plate signifies that man is more adaptable to fill her needs both in life as well as in the bedroom." A few wolf-whistles and laughs come from the crowd now watching the situation unfold. "A man puts out those signals by just taking the damn plate to the sink, whilst a boy will whine and complain about it the whole time." I raise my eyebrow at the bearded-boy.
"Such a man is cowed by the woman. Your man must be weak. He should have taken the plate."
Jordan grumbles uncomfortably, but I place my hand on his shoulder and flash a knowing smile and he settles down.
"My husband hasn't interfered with this situation because he knows I'm capable of dealing with it on my own. He's attractive to a strong woman like me because, when he sees I need his help, he helps... but he also recognizes my need for independence. He's not neglecting me.
My husband chose the seat he did because it signifies his strength. I wanted to sit beside him because I adapt, and this party is about male bonding and peacocking more than it's about the women. Tonight, we're just the eye-candy of the event. The place beside my husband was dirty, meaning I couldn't use it. He didn't clean it up because he lets me choose where I sit, and since you were the one to use the plate and leave a dirty plate in this setting and then you moved-- I couldn't move a plate here and sit beside him without cleaning it up... and that's why I asked you to clean it up-- A man cleans up his messes, and I was giving you the chance to signal to the ladies that you're a man worthy of her attentions."
I gesture to the crowd at a group of demure, young ladies who have taken in the scene and who are watching. The man's face begins to fill with rage as he realizes what's been done here tonight. His odds of having a woman follow him home tonight have diminished from the higher station women.
"Now, if I'd have sat somewhere else, my husband would have sat beside me-- because he wants to be with me and he honors my choices. Some men call this 'being whipped' which is exactly why I focused on the dirty plate beside him-- I've modified my tastes to honor my husband by showing that he can choose the spot. So, in a way, not cleaning up the place setting disrespects him as the more dominant male here."
It's at this point I finally sit beside my husband, my eyes are only for him. I tip my head up and Jordan's tilts down as we give one another a simple, chaste kiss.
A slow clap starts from across the room. The host is applauding. As the room notices where it began, it fills with applause. The applause dies down as he stands to ready his speech.
"Well, now, I expect every male in the room will be on his best behaviour tonight! I think that was enough of a speech to make any man hungry," he deflects, "so I believe it's time for dinner to begin."
... and here's where I wake up...
I am assuming, as part of the dream, this speech by the strong yet supportive wife, has drawn the host's attentions to my husband who will be invited to the parlor to discuss more business related things-- for a man who is able to subdue a woman of such high mind is a great man indeed...
And the real reason I chose to make a scene was because I could recognize Jordan wanted to foster a relationship with the man, but he's not rude enough to march up to someone he doesn't know, without introduction, and request an audience. So, yes, my introverted self didn't blush and hide at the opportunity to make a scene.
It was a good dream. Wrote it down right away.