Tonights adventures took me to a patio with 4 guys, 2 pizzas, a puppy and a harem of hornets. The owner of the apartment was working a late shift and we ambushed his house. With his permission, of course, as long as there was beer left when he got home.
The conversation went many directions, a huge portion of it spent on the logistics of a yet-to-be announced project involving the undead and herding people into vans. That is all I can reveal about the project at this time as to protect the secrecy of the men/me summit.
Other important business included the Toilet of the Future, Bruce Campbell and discount hotels, but we wandered into communicating about communication.
I asked them if they thought we were different.
Me and them as woman and men.
I heard viewpoints in all directions as each man talked about talking. Talking too much, talking too little, talking in circles and talking about thoughts that are terrifying to talk about. Stark and poignant and shitty and necessary. From a bunch of dudes on a patio with a congregation of empty beer bottles and some much needed laughs in the middle of a long week.
We have the same need for love and validation.
We don’t have the same need for fancy toilet paper though.