Subtext. It's such an elusive concept it's not even in my dictionary. (Ok, so it's a 1995 edition, but still.) Like sugary sweets, this covert form of conversation was absent from my life in my early years. In my family, we said what we meant--unless it was mean, and then we just didn't say it at all.

But now that I am well into my thirties, I'm learning what is said isn't necessarily what is meant.

Subtext. Even worse, I'm learning that my husband is gifted at this elusive don't-say-what-you-mean speakese. I discovered it last night.

"I'm finally buying a lap-top, Honey," I say.

He nods slowly. "Hmm. I didn't know you had that much money in your writing account."

"Oh, yeah, I do." I proudly tell him the account balance.

It takes about ten seconds. I'm a little slow.

I clear my throat. "Um, was that way your way of making sure I was going to use my book money?"

He chuckles. Caught. And I wonder. Has he been doing this our whole 16 1/2 years of marriage? How many other subversive messages have I missed? In this case, it was harmless enough, but have I missed important hints? I point this out to him and explain my mind just doesn't work this way. I only hear what's said, and maybe that makes me a little dense, but I like to think of it is as, well, honest. I'm suddenly sure I've missed hundreds of subtle "suggestions" from friends and aquaintances, but maybe that's not a bad thing.

Call me crazy, but I'm thinking this is not a good way of communicating. Half of us are completely oblivious and never get the Real Message. And the other half knows exactly what was meant, so why bother hiding it?

Me? I think I'll stick with hearing exactly what was said. I have a feeling this is definitely a case of ignorance is bliss.