BELOVED OSHO,
WHAT DOES IT MEAN WHEN A WOMAN SAYS SHE IS AFRAID OF A MAN?
Anand Prageet, if you had asked me what it means when a man says that he is afraid of a
woman, I would have answered you very accurately. But your question is such that it is
almost unanswerable. It is very difficult to say what it means when a woman says she is
afraid of a man -- the woman says one thing and means another thing! She may simply be
making you feel at ease, Prageet -- "Don't be afraid, I myself am afraid of you!" She must
see that you are trembling! She must be aware of your fear.
Every man is afraid of the woman -- he has to be. From the very beginning he is in the
hands of a woman, the mother, and the fear is created from those very early days. Your
first impression of a woman is that of a mother, and the mother has made you immensely
afraid. And you have seen that not only were you afraid, but your father was also afraid
of your mother. Outside the house he was like a lion, and whenever he came home he
started wagging his tail!
You have seen this. Children are very perceptive; they go on looking at what is
happening. They understand perfectly well who is really the master of the house. They
are afraid of the mother, the father is afraid of the mother, everybody seems to be afraid
of the mother, and naturally they become accustomed to the fear.
And then man is capable of tackling any problem intellectually. He is afraid of the
woman because her ways of tackling a problem are very intuitive, instinctive. No woman
is intellectual -- intelligent of course, but not intellectual. Man's intelligence is of one
kind, and hers, the woman's intelligence, is of a totally different kind. Man's intelligence
is the essence of his intellect, and woman's intelligence arises out of her intuitiveness.
There is no meeting ground -- there is no possibility of it. They are polar opposites, that's
why they are attracted to each other. Because they cannot understand each other there is
mystery between them; that mystery is of great appeal.
A frustrated man was staring hopelessly down the platform at the departing train. "If you
hadn't taken so long getting ready," he accused his wife, "we would have caught it."
"Yes," she replied, "and if you hadn't hurried me we wouldn't have so long to wait for the
next one!"
"Is this supposed to be art? Why on earth did they hang this picture here?" one woman
asked another in an art gallery.
"Maybe they couldn't find the painter," the other replied.
A beautiful blonde filled in the job application.
The personnel director looked it over, then said, "Miss Johnson, under `Experience' could
you be a little more specific than just `Oh, boy!'?"
A girl in a whorehouse of a red-light district told the madam one day that she was
quitting.
"You can't do that," protested the madam, "you're the best girl I've got. Why, I've seen
you go upstairs thirty and more times a night."
"That's right," the girl agreed. "That's why I'm quitting. My feet are killing me, and it's on
account of those damn stairs!"
It is very difficult for me, Prageet, to answer your question. You will have to ask your
woman yourself.
Schumann, the postman, was retiring. On his last day, as usual, he delivered to Mrs. Katz,
who invited him in for a fine breakfast.
When he finished and was about to leave, she beckoned him into the bedroom where they
made love for an hour. When he was getting ready to leave, she handed him an envelope
with a dollar bill in it.
Schumann was overwhelmed. "Look, Mrs. Katz," he said finally, "I've been delivering
your mail for the past twenty years and you have never so much as offered me a cup of
coffee. So why today did all this happen?"
"Well," she said, "I told my husband So that you were retiring today and he said,
Give him a buck!' -- the breakfast was my idea!"
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