My Lesson

I've given up trying to read women. I will never grasp their subtext. Even the intellectuals give you little hint of what's really going on with them. But the quiet ones who refuse to volunteer anything, who just sit there staring at nothing, are impossible to analyze.
Sometimes you're foolish enough to believe you have a bead on their mood or attitude. Then you send a perfectly benign email (I don't text) and wait for a response that will never come. Then you backtrack and go over every word you said in every conversation dating back three years wondering what f aux pas you've committed. Women who laugh easily and make you think they are comfortable in your presence, then snub you out of the blue are creatures put here by a sadistic deity. At least if there was an argument, a reason for their behavior can be established.
Maybe these women suffer from a low level form of autism that hasn't been named yet. Or lack Vitamin D. Detached, indifferent, aloof, whatever the label, after awhile you wonder if it's worth it. Maybe sticking with older, gregarious types who never shut up is the way to go. No mystery there. But a continuing effort to understand and accommodate these ladies is taking too much time away from my stomach crunches. I've learned my lesson. This time I mean it.