Interpretation Makes all the Difference

Do you ever have those moments when you’re talking to someone and you’re thinking one thing and they’re thinking another- only you don’t know you’re thinking differently, but what you do know is that things seem weird and suddenly you’re confused and wonder if the two of you are even involved in the same conversation? Happens all the time, right? I like to call it the misinterpretation of communication. Here are some recent examples for you.

Disclaimer: Contrary to my comments on alcohol, I really do not drink that much and the following idiot moments occurred under absolute sobriety. Though being under the influence would provide a somewhat valid excuse for my stupidity.

Misinterpretation Moment #1:
When Jon and I were out on our Vietnamese dinner date last weekend, I noticed a dish on the menu that contained very rare beef. Hmmm, I thought to myself. First of all, what kind of beef is so rare that out of all places, you could get it at this dinky little eatery in a strip mall? So, I pointed it out to Jon- “this one has VERY RARE BEEF.” I wanted him to find it interesting. He didn’t seem too curious about it. Then I thought, seriously… if this beef is SO hard to get, why is it only $5.00? 'Rare beef,' they're full of it. Once again, I commented on the “very rare beef” to Jon, the whole time wondering why he wasn’t as fascinated- and he was probably wondering why I was so fascinated. It was going nowhere, so I moved on. Later in the conversation, he mentioned something about the rare beef… and there is was- the LIGHTBULB! “OHHHH, I said, ‘rare’ as in ‘not cooked!’ This whole time I’ve been thinking ‘rare’ as in ‘hard to get.’ I’m an idiot.” It seems I have to admit that a lot.

Misinterpretation Moment #2:
This morning I was leaving the house and asked my roommate about a Chinese restaurant around the corner. “I’m thinking about picking up dinner for our group tonight.” She started in about how much she liked it because there were “these cute little Chinese boys who sit there in the evenings and do their homework and check you out.” I stared at her for a moment, repeating in my head ‘little Chinese boys…homework…check you out’. And, just before I blurted out, "who are you, you sick perverted woman,” she finished her statement with, “they are really nice, but it makes you wonder about child labor laws.” LIGHTBULB! ‘Check you out’ as in ‘at the register.’ Whew! This is me NOT drinking. Scary.