Without a question, women are puzzles. Their feelings are kaleidoscopes, ranging quickly from love to rage. They can be messaging you lovely things one minute and then ghosting you. A man can start to doubt his sanity with such. That is a very different communication style. Even although SMS is slower than a snail on sleeping drugs, it's their preferred tool. And let me not even begin to discuss the mixed signals. "Don't phone me for a week," but then, "Why haven't you called?" Bertrand Russell would scratch his head at that alone.
I used to be a quick-witted cynic, prepared to snark at everyone. I have, nevertheless, softened over time. I choose patience above conceit these days and am more of a relaxed observer. I now know to let things go and to stop taking everything so personally. Especially when dealing with the same old drama, it's not always easy. But killing them with compassion works significantly better than making a snarky joke, I've found.
Loving tends to smooth off your edges. It teaches you to put the happiness of others first of your own. What caused this shift in me—time, a need for connection, or just pure desperation to make someone happy—is beyond me. All the same, I'm happy it happened. I'm more empathetic, patient, and prepared to put up with occasional insanity.
