Posted on 07/13/2011 9:43:33 AM PDT by freespirited
If you've ever spent time telling a guy a story or asking him a question, only to get a blank stare in response, then you know that there's definitely truth to this claim that guys weren't designed to hear us speak. I had a similar experience at brunch this weekend when I was going on and on to a male friend about something I can't even remember anymore. When I got to the end of my rant and finally asked him if he agreed with me on the topic at hand, his answer was, "sorry, I really wasn't listening to a word you said."
Even though I was incredibly frustrated with him, he did bring up a good point, asking, "would you rather I lie and say I heard you?" This little exchange, as insignificant as it was, did make me wonder exactly what it is that makes it so easy for men to tune us out.
As it turns out, a study published in the journal NeuroImage sought to answer the very same question. Researchers found that there are major differences in the way male and female brains process voice sounds. Different brain regions are activated in men, depending on whether they're hearing a male or female voice.
Apparently, the vibration and number of sound waves in our voice makes it harder for men to decipher what we're saying. When it comes to processing a woman's voice, they use the more complex auditory part of the brain that processes music, not human voices. But the guys in the study could easily hear and understand other men’s voices as speech because that uses a simpler brain mechanism at the back of the brain.
So, next time you want to get angry and yell at a guy for "not listening," cut him a little slack – his brain just wasn't made to hear you. My suggestion would be to speak slowly and get to your point fast.
Mrs. Colonel and I have had more than one robust discussion involving me saying, “I GOT your point 5 minutes ago! Why are we still talking about this?” and her saying, “I’m not DONE talking about it yet!”
26 years this August, and if that’s the worst disagreement we’ve had, I continue to consider myself blessed beyond description that I’m married to my best friend.
Colonel, USAFR
LOL! Popcorn?
I love interpersonal communications threads. It’s a two way street. I try my best to listen to my wife, with my full attention. I think she tries her best to get to the point without giving me every last detail and not go on and on about the latest workplace drama.
That explains why since childhood I have loved hearing women chatter but never pay attention to nor can I recollect anything they have said. It’s like soothing instrumental music.
From the article:
“. . . I was going on and on to a male friend about something I can’t even remember anymore.”
‘Nuff said.
Then why do they use simulated female voices in cockpit warnings? This is settled science - not.
She needs to tune her message to her audience.
As a general observation, I think public address systems are not a “friend” to female voices.
Exactly what I was thinking. 2 days after it happened and she can't remember what it was she was talking about. It must not have really been that important. Should we say women are inacapable of memorable conversations? Makes as much sense.
I’m sending this link to all my ex’s with the note, “I was wrong. It was you, not me.”
“going on and on”, ie, “venting her feelings”.
Not something a guy is really interested in.
Got something we can fix? State the problem, we’ll give you our best solution.
Want to “vent”? That’s not what we’re for. We’ll act like we’re listening, but to us, there’s really no point in it. Just let her talk & “vent”, but don’t waste processing power on it.
White noise, perhaps?
it’s nice being married to a woman that speaks a foreign language. It’s twice as easy to not pay attention to what she’s nagging about!
This author is thinking too much about it... (typical girl)
Dave Barry spells it out perfectly here:
Let’s say a guy named Fred is attracted to a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Martha, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?”
And then, there is silence in the car.
To Martha, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want, or isn’t sure of.
And Fred is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Martha is thinking: But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily towards, I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Fred is thinking: ...so that means it was...let’s see...February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means...lemme check the odometer...Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Martha is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed - even before I sensed it - that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.
And Fred is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Martha is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.
And Fred is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90-day warranty...scumballs.
And Martha is thinking: Maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Fred is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it right up their...
“Fred,” Martha says aloud.
“What?” says Fred, startled.
“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have...oh dear, I feel so...”(She breaks down, sobbing.)
“What?” says Fred.
“I’m such a fool,” Martha sobs. “I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse.”
“There’s no horse?” says Fred.
“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Martha says.
“No!” says Fred, glad to finally know the correct answer.
“It’s just that...it’s that I...I need some time,” Martha says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Fred, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
“Yes,” he says. (Martha, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
“Oh, Fred, do you really feel that way?” she says.
“What way?” says Fred.
“That way about time,” says Martha.
“Oh,” says Fred. “Yes.” (Martha turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
“Thank you, Fred,” she says.
“Thank you,” says Fred.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Fred gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a college basketball game between two South Dakota junior colleges that he has never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.
The next day Martha will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification.
They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it either.
Meanwhile, Fred, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Martha’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: “Norm, did Martha ever own a horse?”
And that’s the difference between men and women.
Code words the male brain doesn’t miss:
sex, sex toys, breasts, threeway, beer, more sex, let’s have sex, football, grilled bratwurst, dinner, wanna do it, porn, lesbian sex, honey I just bought a new garter, thong bikini, Pam Anderson, etc.
Just use one and ya got him!
You ain’t kidding there.
HA HA!
She just didn't finish the headline. It should read . . .
Male Brains Aren't Designed To Listen to Female Voices That Blather on About Nothing
“Apparently, the vibration and number of sound waves in our voice makes it harder for men to decipher what we’re saying.”
That’s not really it. Maybe the writer could get a clue from this:
“I was going on and on to a male friend about something I can’t even remember anymore.”
Male conversations are to the point, meant to get something done. We don’t talk to talk.
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