jive talkin’

By Philip Moore

January 2008

It appears those who supposedly know about such things have deduced that men talk more than women. Being what is commonly known as a ‘jibberer’ I do not find this mind-blowing news.

As usual, scientific-type people have been paid – and probably paid well – to come up with the meta-analysis. This study comes from the University of Santa Cruz, California.

“On the average, men are slightly more talkative than women,” Campbell Leaper (yes, that’s his real name), a psychology professor at the university, has told the local media. I hit on the comment when I had precious little to do.

It seems men tend to speak up more in what researchers call “assertive” speech, which includes giving directions, advancing an opinion and disagreeing with someone. Ah, right.

Women, however, use more “affiliative” speech, which includes giving support, acknowledging someone else and agreeing with another person. Ah, right again. You know what I mean, two rights.

I have noted that a Mr George W. Bush of Crawford, Texas and Washington DC, has a lot to say and seems to talk more than his wife. I did, however, see her on TV the other night reading to her pet dogs. Maybe she was trying to get them to understand the Kyoto Protocol. It would be a first in their household. I digress. My recent studies inform me that evolutionary psychology has explanations why men and women kiss differently. The research shows that live-in boyfriends do more housework than husbands, and a study that found partners of feminists have more satisfying lives in the cot.

I have noticed, although this didn’t appear to be in the study, that many young people seem to talk a lot when they stay awake for three days on Spanish islands. I’m told they sweat a lot, drink orange juice and run around hugging people they don’t know.
It would seem, according to those who attend such lively tribal gatherings, that the males do more talking than the females. So the survey is probably right. The young ‘uns that I canvassed who were admittedly a tad myopic (leastwise that’s my opinion) didn’t seem to know whether or not the females they encountered were feminists and they had no clue at all about the housework.

Another survey is required.

Shrinks talkin’

Is it me or ‘tis the season to be stressful’? If we were in California part of the holiday season would comprise regular visits to the shrink.

I feel the Gulf needs to embrace this aspect of culture from overseas with great fervour.

I think if we are to drive Hummers, eat at Johnny Rockets and groove away at these clubby places employing the cross-arms swagger (thanks to a helpful colleague for that one) we should also be making greater use of the American icon, the therapist.

That the holiday season is a stressful time for family relationships is conventional wisdom, which is why it doesn’t hurt to lighten up with a good, honest shrink session.

This time of the year, for Westerners anyway, there tends to be what some call “seasonal relationship disorder.” There’s an added pressure on marriages already in distress from soaring rents, mortgages back home, the need to get an England soccer coach who is English and should George and Martha take their hols in Bali or the Seychelles. Phuket is so yesterday. And Newcastle’s winter is a long, long time ago.

This is the only time of the year when we do a rather odd thing – chop a tree down and put it in the middle of the house. Any other time of year you’d be tagged a nutter.

In the busy race of modern life, this time of year is the vital love rebore, as it were.

If the champagne doesn’t flow for you at New Year and you got a kettle instead of the little item through the post from the shop in London’s Soho, you need the shrink. If that doesn’t work, it’s time for your attorney bro’, know wha’ I’m sayin’.

So the couch session with the therapist is probably the best way to begin 2008. There’s only one major drama. How is the shrink, and I don’t care how good he is, going to keep his own head together if he has to battle the same traffic chaos as I do?

Beyond that, it’ll have to be the cricket on the telly or the long weekend in Chiang Mai.
Happy New Year.