Let me elucidate.
Most men are either thinking about sex or wondering who invented the game of hockey, and why. But if the man is over forty-five, he's wondering more about hockey than sex, and he's thinking about purchasing a pair of skates.
The male brain is denser than the female's and leans heavily toward the fatty side, and because of this, it is more difficult for men to discuss their feelings. Men do not associate feelings with the brain, and the majority seem to regard emotions as residing more in the area of the stomach than in the cranium. That is why most men will say, "I feel hungry", as opposed to a woman, who is more likely to say, "I feel light-headed . . . like I'm gonna swoon."
The light-headed woman is likely menopausal, however, and she should not regard her emotions as weird. Rather, she should talk about her emotions with her husband (if she still has one)--a man who is, quite naturally, just itching for a lengthy conversation about hormones and hot flashes. Two hours should do it.
But the male brain is not set up for retreat settings or, shall we say, lengthy weekend discussions that tend to be circular in logic or where the woman is heard to say repeatedly, "Why is this happening to me?"
The man, of course, will nod understandingly, as his brain is set up for a motion offense and a zone defense, but inside his brain he is thinking, "What time does that hockey game begin?" Men also have the capacity to appear to be engaged in conversation when, in reality, they are basking in the sun outside a remote village on the isle of Crete. That is why most women ask periodically, "Are you listening to me?" But, through eons of evolutionary adaptations, men have developed the capacity to nod affirmatively at these questions, grunt, and still be engaged in ice hockey at the same time. Women, of course, through the precision of their own evolution, understand that men are not listening . . . but they continue to talk any way.
This dichotomy is known in most cultures as "the mating dance" or "slappin' it around the rink." Or in the ghettos it is known as, "Yo Momma!"
Eventually, the vocal chords on the woman begin to tire, and the man becomes sleepy. This is when he begins to think about sex again, but he can't do anything about it. After the hockey game, the woman changes the channel to a Dr. Phil rerun and talks to herself.
She imagines she is on the set and is receiving expert counsel from a man who will listen and who will, in a Texas-twang, say, "I'm here to listen until the cows come home and I'll be here to watch this parade until you've tossed your last piece of candy!" The flesh-and-blood man, in the meantime, is rejuvenating his brain in a deep sleep.
She wakes him at midnight to ask, "Are you listening to me?"
He was. He just had his eyes closed. And for some reason, he's hungry for candy.
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