I’m no scientist, but recent events have led me to conclude that men and women are of completely different species.

Now, because I am someone who thought the term “”homo sapiens”” was a dirty joke until the age of 12, you may think that I am highly unqualified to make this kind of claim. And it’s true — I have absolutely no business talking about the incredibly precise and incredibly boring categorization of organisms. But is that going to stop me from talking about it anyway? Hell no.

Saturday night found me at a San Diego State party with my old friend. Let’s call him Warren (that’s not his real name). Obviously, as a journalism nerd and all-around lifeless reject, I had no business whatsoever being at such a gathering. Yet there I was, not even attempting to look cool, because really — what would be the point?

About an hour and clearly several drinks later, Warren (no, really, that isn’t his name!) approached me and began (to my still-vivid horror) to confess the fact that he had something of a crush on me.

I won’t re-enact the conversation for you, but suffice it to say that Warren sounded like an idiot, and I sounded very confused.

But this is not why I have determined that men and women cannot possibly be members of the same species. What happened later that night was what cinched it.

Around 1:30 a.m., I decided that we were ready to go. I based this decision on the fact that I was tired (I told you I was a nerd) and that Warren (would you please stop thinking that is his real name?) was falling-all-over-himself-and-others drunk.

I walked up to my friend, grabbed his arm to get his attention (and to keep him from falling on me), and said, “”Warren, even though that isn’t your real name, let’s go.”” OK, actually I just said, “”Hey, let’s go.””

Now, I want everyone to say that out loud, infusing it with as little inflection and feeling as possible. “”Hey, let’s go.”” That’s what I said.

Warren immediately interpreted that as a pick-up line.

Believe me, there was no come hither look, no unnecessary body contact, nothing to indicate that “”Hey, let’s go”” should be taken to mean, “”Hey, I want to take you home and screw your brains out.””

Yet Warren’s response was a very slurred version of “”I knew you liked me too,”” while he appeared to try to hug me and lick his own ear at the same time.

I would like to assure you that in no way did I interpret this as a compliment or an indicator of any sex appeal I may possess (trust me, I don’t have any). Even journalism nerds start looking good after enough alcohol.

This is my point: Members of a common species are often identified by a common language, and clearly men and women speak languages about as different as Japanese and the sound of a V-6 engine.

No woman would ever think that having a designated driver approach her to say “”Hey, let’s go”” could be a come-on. For better or worse, only a man would ever think that.

And you can’t blame the alcohol either, because men always think that women are confessing their nonexistent attraction to them through general expressions.

When I was a freshman in high school, I became reacquainted with a friend whom I had not seen since preschool. The fact that Emily actually recognized me was freaky by itself, but not nearly as much as what happened two days later.

We had the same French class. In that class was also a guy who went to preschool with us and whose mother is very good friends with mine. And for some reason, Emily (who I think may be superhuman) recognized Jason, too.

I was there for the conversation. This is exactly what happened:

Emily (giddy with happiness upon having recognized another former playmate, thus being able to show off her memory superpowers): Jason? Oh my gosh, it’s me, Emily!

Jason (clearly confused but no less eloquent): What?

Emily (annoyed that she is not as recognizable as she had thought): We went to preschool together!

Jason (either recognizing her, or just feeling stupid and playing along): Holy shit, you’re right. Hey.

At this point we had to go to class, so we went our separate ways.

When I got home, my mother informed me that Jason’s mom had told her that Jason came home, convinced that Emily would be his girlfriend before the end of the week. Apparently, when she said “”hello”” to him, Jason understood that to mean, “”Take me now, you sex machine.”” Why? Because men and women simply do not share a common language.

By the way, those were their real names. I just didn’t feel like making up new ones. I still maintain that Warren is an alias, though.

To bridge the language gap somewhat, I will now offer the humble beginnings of a language translator for men.

“”Hello”” and all its derivatives: This is a form of greeting or acknowledgment, not to be mistaken with “”I want to fuck you.””

“”How are you?””: indication of concern over emotional and/or physical state of being. Not synonymous with “”How would you like to fuck me?””

“”Do we have homework?””: quantitative question, not referring to “”Do we have time for sex, or do we have too much homework?””

“”Wow, it’s been really hot lately,”” or other such weather-related comments: This means we want sex. Duh.

So basically, men everywhere should buy my translator when I complete it. Until then I’m staying home, where there are no drunk people to assault me, unless you count my roommate.

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