Graeme MontgomeryFor a special section in our May issue, we asked the editors of Esquire to decode the mind and manners of the men in your life. In turn, in the pages of Esquire, you'll find a section in which we try to explain the finer points of the female condition to their readers. Here, Esquire's Ross McCammon tell us how to talk to men. For more from Esquire's guide to the land of men, pick of ELLE's May issue, available on newsstands nationwide on April 22.
Advertisement - Continue Reading BelowWe—you and us—have been made to think that we are from different planets, that we communicate in different ways. This is nonsense. We are from the same planet. And we speak exactly the same language.
That language might involve some bumbling. For us especially. And it is in the bumbling—a perfectly natural result of anxiety and glee—that things get dicey. The bumbling will consist of wit and ideas and amusing observations, and it will consist of some really unfortunate lapses in decorum and tact. We will accidentally insult your home state. We will imply that your particular hair color is not one of our top-two favorite hair colors. We will inexplicably refer to the restroom as the "little boy's room," even though we have never once called it that, ever—not even when we were a little boy. But we are not to be held accountable for these things. You must be more generous than that. Please. Bear with us.
More From ELLEAnd when we are not bumbling, when we seem in control—a little haughty maybe, a bit asshole-ish, a little cold—you must also bear with us. Think of the burden we carry into the conversation. Our fathers and grandfathers fought in wars. Some of them not by choice. These were men with heavy souls. These were men who believed they earned the right to be an asshole every now and then. These were the men who taught us how to comport ourselves. We weren't coddled by these men. They didn't text us selfies on a business trip and tell us they missed us! We do not carry their burdens, but their darkness has shaped us.
Please. Bear with us.
It is worth noting that there are not two kinds of men—the blundering and the arrogant. There is one kind of man, who occasionally blunders and occasionally is a dick and occasionally is his best self. What mostly determines which version of us you will encounter during any given conversation is one crucial variable: you.
So you have a lot of responsibility here. You must be clear. You are required to mean it when you say you don't care where we have dinner. You are required to disclose that you just got out of a long-term relationship with a prisoner. You are required to let us know that you really are not into this. You are required to give us information, to be straight with us, because that more than anything helps bring out our best selves. Otherwise, we are grasping. Which is an indignity.
The point is we are listening to what you say. We are listening so intently that we will make something of the smallest thing—the thoughtless flirtation, the vague insult. This is the great tragedy: that we have been made to seem indifferent to you—not to mention selfish—always looking for an out, always looking at other women, when nothing could be further from the truth.
The way to talk to a man is to know that he is trying to make something of every signal. That he is listening. To you.
We are not players and we do not want this to be a game. And there may be a battlefield, but we will not be stepping foot on it. (We'll be over here, sitting in a comfortable chair, having a drink. Join us?) And we are not scheming. We don't want to struggle. We will always be trying to find the simpler way. And we will always be trying to have a good time.
So where were we?
Related: Esquire for ELLE: The Language of Men, Decoded
A version of this article appeared in the May 2014 issue of ELLE magazine