I ’m sure you’ve seen this happening as much as I have: You and your wife have finished an evening in a friend’s place, have had dinner, spent time on long conversations, covering many topics, and then it’s time to go. You and the missus walk to the doorstep, you say goodbye to the man of the house, andthenwhen you’vetaken a few steps out realize your wife and his haven’t finished what you think are their goodbyes. You wonder, and as you watch your friend, you realize he’s also wondering, how a simple goodbye can stretch so long. You both come closertothe ‘scene ofthe extended goodbyes,’ and to both your astonishments, understandthey are not saying goodbye.They are actually conversing on an entirely new topic, some subjectthat could have easily been handled during dinner, before dinner or even after, butthe doorstepisthe one and only place whichinspiredthemto starttheir new dialogue. “It’s called the ‘hating to part,” said a psychologist looking at me wisely. “It sounds like a syndrome where they are just making conversation so they don’t have to say goodbye?” I asked alittleincredulously. “Absolutely!” said the mind doctor, “It’s not just hating to part, but hating to part to go home with you?” “Why?” Iwhisperedlooking crestfallen, “What wrong have I done?” “Not just you, but all mankind,” said the lady psychologist giving me a sadlopsided accusing look, “You see they know once they leave each other, it’s back to the monologue they will have with their men, with you talking back with just a monosyllabic rejoinder, sometimes to over a paragraph and sometimes pages of lines they have spoken!” “That’s because men are so busy,” I said unhappily. “Yes, of course,” said the doctor, a little too sharply “Cricket matches, or Arnob shutting everybody else on TV, the latest film on Netflix, you men are very busy indeed!” “I don’t know,” I said hopelessly. “Now it’s also the internet, chat, facebook, twitter, oh there’s so much to do, while the wife is speaking!” Iwatchedthetwowomentalkingwith each other and then watched as they glanced at us their husbands, pretended we were not there and continued with a new topic or was it the second episode ofthe firsttopic or a new chapter of an old event, it didn’t matter. We stood, we watched. I, my watch, and my friend the door of his house as the mosquitoes came in and the ladies continued their conversation, oblivious to everything but their need not to part with each other..!
