So Ruschka's beau told her he loved her when she was not prepared to hear it; and, unlike a guy, who will deflect or turn a deaf ear to such a declaration if it catches him off-guard, Ruschka got angry and, a bit later, started a spat. She had since calmed down, she told me, and had even apologized, but it didn't feel right between them yet.

Impressed by the fact that she had enough maturity and courage to accept responsibility for the fight and try to make up, I decided to assist. Her problem was that she didn't understand men, which I chalked up to a simple lack of experience. Black box theory does not apply to men. Men are transparent boxes with occasional translucent and opaque spots (which means that there are a few things you can't quite see head-on), composed of material of uneven dimension -- sometimes unexpectedly thick and impenetrable, sometimes startlingly thin and permeable. This explains why so many men adopt the "strong, silent type" persona; it's one of the few ways we have of suggesting depth and mystery.

I told Ruschka that, in addition to apologizing to him as she'd already done -- and I praised her for that -- she had to tell her boyfriend that she forgave him. And sincerely. "Forgive him for what?" she said. "I started the fight, and he didn't do anything wrong."

"Not so," I replied. "He used the L word at the wrong time, caught you by surprise with it, and upset you, didn't he?" She conceded that this was the case. "So he knows he upset you, which means he did something wrong -- he just doesn't know what." She agreed. "And you can't possibly explain to him why it was wrong for him to use the L word, right?" Again she assented. "Besides, if you bring it up it'll only make him nervous about using the L word ever again, and you don't want that, do you?" No, of course not. "So you simply have to tell him you forgive him."

"But what do I tell him I'm forgiving him for?" Ruschka wanted to know. "Nothing. He doesn't need to know. He doesn't want to know. All he wants is for you to completely forgive him for whatever he did wrong. That's why it has to be absolutely sincere. Then you should have great make-up sex to reassure him."

Ruschka gave me a funny look. "Trust me," I said, paid my bill, left my usual 20% tip, and walked out.

A few days later I came back in. Ruschka, obviously not on duty, was sitting customer-side at the counter with a glass of wine. When she saw me, she jumped off her stool, ran over, and gave me a huge hug. "Did it work?" I asked. She pointed to the young man sitting on the stool next to hers, his back turned to us. "Yep. That's him; we're fine again." She introduced me to him -- let's call him Steve, a personable young gent; sure enough, he had the calm, satisfied look of a well-laid man who has a beer and sandwich and a girlfriend close to hand, with only a fading residue of mild bewilderment to his demeanor.

Please understand that, beyond my avuncular interest in seeing this sweet young woman patch up her differences with her lover, I had a specifically guy motive for applying black box theory to this situation: I wanted to see this poor lad properly rewarded for his brave if ill-timed use of "the L word," and suitably compensated for having gotten put through the wringer for an error he will most likely never comprehend.

See? The system works, though only God (in Her infinite wisdom) knows how. But, in Her mercy, She does leave us a few clues . . .