Reading In Between Craigslist.

“I have a 14” bearded dragon.”

That’s funny, I have a 3’ yardstick that says I’m grossly inadequate.

 

I’m searching Craigslist.com for Cosmo’s paw print, but all I’m finding is confusion. Some people post with specific needs while others post ambiguous signs asking for trouble.

 

“Lonely Teenager Needs A Companion.”  That’s posted under “Pets.”  Somehow I’m guessing the predator to pet ratio here is a little high, but I am betting she did get lots of calls.  At least the line was busy when I tried calling.

 

What? Don’t look at me that way?  I didn’t use my phone.  I called using one I found on Craigslist.  Besides, what ever happened to the good old days when you could say, “I want a dog “? 

 

I think that communication is one of the biggest problems with our society today.  People don’t say what they want, and then get upset when your ESP is substandard.  I think that’s why Picasso was a Cubist.  Who could argue with him?

 

“Pablo, I wanted a velvet Elvis.”

“It is.”

“Oh, ok.  I can see that…”

 

Truly he was a genius ahead of his time.  Me, I’m just a man and his blog looking for a little lost dog.

 

“Do you love horses?”

Not without currency changing hands…

 

Do you know that if you Google “rod iron fences” you’ll find them?  That’s funny since they don’t exist.  The term is “wrought iron.”  Why is it wrought? You’d be bent out of shape if people tried to drop you from the vocabulary too!

 

I won’t even go into the people who eat “cold slaw.”  That’s just weird.  Then again, so is me talking about going into people; that’s the miscommunication hokey pokey.

 

When you’re in a marriage miscommunication is just plain frustrating.  MyEx and I were pretty good, until things got to the end.  But at that point, we could have walked around with subtitle LED banners dangling from our necks and we wouldn’t have understood a word spoken. Neither of us were looking anywhere but ourselves.

 

That’s generally how miscommunication happens.  People start hearing what they want and stop saying what they need.  I know I’m good at reading people, but that doesn’t matter.  If I’m stuck translating Morse code sighs and awkward silences I’m not going to know how to reply with anything other than shrugs.

 

“I wear a blue collar and answer to Smurfette, have you seen me?”

Uhm…

 

See? Why do we have to decode this stuff?  I mean life is too confusing anyway, why can’t we find a way to talk with each other?  It’s not like I’m being a language Nazi; I dole plenty slices of Rob-babble pineapples—some are tangy, sweet, others are just bitter, but I do try to keep it where most anybody gets a taste of what I’m talking about.

 

And yet I’m equally as guilty. Why?  It’s a matter of trust.  See, good conversation requires I trust that you’ll use what I say appropriately, or even listen at all.  So, is miscommunication just a matter of mistrust? I don’t know, and if I did, I might not tell you.

 

Lassie trusts you.  She’ll tell you that Timmy is in the bottom of a well.  What she won’t tell you is that she pushed him in for withholding biscuits.   She eliminated the middle boy until she discovered the biscuit basket wasn’t bottomless.  Then she needed somebody help—no, wait.  That wasn’t Lassie that was a girl I dated in college. Sorry.  Interpretive miscommunication.

 

So if I’m going to do it myself, I shouldn’t be surprised to see others do it too. 

 

“Looking for a dominatrix with a ball gag, who’s willing to tie me up and call me Toto.”

See, now there’s a guy who knows how to communicate.