It was my wife who received the e-mail, and who came to the room where I was working to say that perhaps her education was wanting, but what did “genital” mean? “Er,” I said, for I believe there are still some things a gentleman does not say when there are women present in a room, even if that someone is merely a wife, “perhaps you want to elaborate what it is you wish to know.” “Of course,” said my wife, who has no such qualms, “I’ve just been sent a message where the subject says it is a ‘genital reminder’.” “Fascinating,” I muttered, “and what does the message itself say?” “It says,” read out my wife, “that its sender is acting as a genital reminder that I should be present over the weekend.”
“I am confused too,” I said, trying to figure out what the sender might have meant, since it seemed unlikely my wife could present herself anywhere without all parts of her anatomy accompanying her, “what do you think your friend meant?” “If I knew,” said my wife, “I wouldn’t be asking you.” “So why don’t you write back to ask her what she means?” I suggested. “Don’t you think that might be embarrassing,” my wife giggled, “unless, of course, she means it seriously.”
There are times like this when I miss the institution of personal secretaries and office pools of typists who at least would not have sent out something this unclear. Now that everyone sends out their own mail in language and grammar that are both suspect, it is sometimes difficult to understand what the information being communicated actually means. So here we were, scratching our scalps over what the e-mail writer might have meant. Was it merely a lascivious message? Unlikely, we both agreed, the message writer was known to us and a responsible and well-adjusted person at that. Was it some abbreviated short-form to say my wife should perform her personal ablutions before they met, that they were to go swimming, or to the spa, together? Or did she hope to imply that with winter setting in, and indulgence in warming beverages putting pressure on the kidneys, that she should take care to keep an eye open for washrooms where women might be able to use the facilities?
“Maybe I’ll call her and ask”, my wife sighed. “Wait,” I shouted, “don’t do that. Surely it means something simple that we’re overlooking.” I switched on my computer to see what the Thesaurus might throw up for it, but Microsoft had nothing, no synonyms (other than some body parts that, far from rhyming, sounded like the constituents of a pornographic novel). I keyed in variations of the word but could find nothing that made any sense. Late in the evening, with a drink in hand, I admitted defeat. “I just don’t get it,” I said, “I give up. It’s up to you now to find out what your friend was saying.”
“I shall be clever,” said my wife, responding to her friend’s e-mail, “I shall ask her why she needs me to be present over the weekend.” She didn’t have to wait long for her reply. As the e-mail pinged in, both of us waited breathlessly for it to unscroll. “Surely you haven’t forgotten,” wrote her friend, “we’re launching a massive pubic relations blitz this weekend.” “It figures,” muttered my wife, and catching sight of me looking worried, added, “she means ‘public’ relations, of course.”
“And,” I said, for I’d just realised what her friend had meant to type in her earlier e-mail, “she intended it to be a ‘gentle’ reminder for you to be present.” “With or without my body parts?” queried my wife. There’s nothing genital, er gentle, about her sense of humour.