The Woman Time Conversion Chart
A survival guide for men who’ve been “five minutes” away from leaving the house since 2019
Feb 9 |
Crazy Old Man is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
6:47 PM.
Dinner reservation is at 7:00.
You’ve been ready since 6:15. Showered. Dressed. Wallet. Keys. Standing by the door like a retriever who heard the word “walk” forty-five minutes ago.
She emerges from the bathroom.
“Five more minutes.”
You nod. You sit down. You turn on the TV.
At 7:23, you will be backing out of the driveway while she applies mascara in the passenger seat using the visor mirror and somehow not dying.
At 7:31, you will be explaining to the hostess that you had a “reservation for 7” with the energy of someone who has stopped believing in the concept of linear time.
Because here’s what women taught me:
Women do not experience time the same way men do.
This isn’t a complaint. This isn’t even criticism.
This is anthropology.
I am merely documenting a phenomenon that every man on Earth has observed but none of us have had the courage to catalog.
Until now.
• •
THE OFFICIAL CONVERSION CHART
I have spent decades in the field. I have collected data. I have cross-referenced observations with other married men in hushed conversations at barbecues while our wives were inside “just grabbing their purses.”
(They were not just grabbing their purses. They were never just grabbing their purses.)
Here is what I’ve learned:
“Five minutes” = 35 minutes
This is the baseline conversion. The fundamental constant. The speed of light in the female time-space continuum.
“Five minutes” is not a measurement of time. It’s a category. It means “I have acknowledged your impatience and I am signaling that departure is conceptually on the horizon.”
Five minutes is the distance between “almost ready” and whenever she actually walks through the door. It is a quantum state. It exists in superposition…simultaneously almost over and potentially infinite.
Schrödinger’s Five Minutes.
“Almost done” = Hasn’t started the thing you’re waiting for
This one took me years to crack.
“Almost done” means she has completed several tasks you were unaware were required, but has not yet begun the task you assumed was the only task.
You thought getting ready was: shower, dress, go.
Getting ready is actually: shower, dry hair, style hair, first outfit, reconsider outfit, second outfit, reconsider shoes, makeup base, wait for base to set, actual makeup, jewelry selection, jewelry reconsideration, purse transfer, find phone, find keys, one more mirror check, lip thing, and THEN go.
She is “almost done” with step 4 of 17.
You are not leaving soon.
“Just one more thing” = Three hours minimum
Do NOT let this phrase fool you. “Just one more thing” is not a thing. It is a Russian nesting doll of things.
The “one thing” is Target. But Target contains twelve things. One of those things reminds her of another thing at a different store. That store is “right there” (it is not right there). That store triggers a memory of something she needed to return. The return place is “on the way” (it is not on the way).
“Just one more thing” is how Saturday errands that were supposed to take an hour become a full expedition that ends at 4 PM with you sitting in a parking lot eating Chick-fil-A in defeated silence while she texts her sister about something unrelated to any of the things.
“On my way” = Still on the couch
I have verified this with GPS data.
“On my way” means “I have mentally committed to the concept of leaving.” She has not stood up. She has not located her keys. She has not gone to the bathroom one last time (she will go to the bathroom one last time…this is unavoidable).
“On my way” is the announcement of intent. It is the starting gun that signals the beginning of the pre-departure sequence.
The pre-departure sequence takes eleven to nineteen minutes depending on variables I have not yet isolated.
“Ready when you are” = Needs 20 more minutes but is testing you
This is a trap.
If you say “okay let’s go,” she will say “just let me...” and then three things happen that each take seven minutes.
If you say “take your time,” she will take time. Lots of time. Time you didn’t know existed.
The correct response is: “I’ll be in the car.” Then go sit in the car. Play on your phone. Accept your fate. She will emerge when she emerges. The car is Switzerland.
“Give me a second” = Give her several minutes
A “second” is not a unit of time. A “second” is a request for patience of undefined duration.
One second to find her chapstick can take four minutes if the chapstick is not in the first purse she checks. And it is never in the first purse.
“Let me just change real quick” = You should have brought a book
“Real quick” is doing a lot of heavy lifting in this sentence.
She will emerge in the first outfit, ask your opinion, interpret your opinion incorrectly, return to the closet, and emerge in a second outfit that looks identical to you but is apparently “completely different.”
Your job is to notice the difference. You will not notice the difference. This will be a problem.
“I’ll be right there” = Start a new activity, you have time
“Right there” is a location in space, not time. She will BE “right there” eventually. The journey to “right there” has no ETA.
I once started watching a movie after she said “I’ll be right there.”
She emerged for the last twenty minutes.
She asked what she missed.
Everything. She missed everything.
“Running a little late” = The original departure time was a fiction
“Running late” implies there was a schedule. There was never a schedule. There was a suggestion of a schedule. An aspiration. A hope.
“A little late” means recalculate your entire timeline. If you were meeting people at 6, tell them 6:45 but expect 7:15.
The people you’re meeting already know this. If they’re married, they’re running late too. Everyone is running late. The whole system runs on lateness. Restaurants that take reservations have built this into their models.
“I just need to grab my purse” = The purse is a decoy
She’s not grabbing her purse. She’s performing a final sweep of the house that includes checking her hair one more time, adjusting something on her face, possibly changing her earrings, definitely checking her phone, and remembering one thing she forgot to do that will take “just a second.” (See Above…)
The purse will be grabbed. Eventually. After several other things are grabbed, adjusted, and reconsidered.
“Almost ready, just doing my makeup” = You might want to eat something
Makeup is not A task. Makeup is several tasks performed in a specific order with drying time built in between layers.
I don’t understand it. I’ve watched it happen hundreds of times and I still don’t understand it. There are primers and bases and things that need to “set” and other things that can’t be applied until the first things have set.
It’s like watching someone build a house. You can’t put up drywall before the framing is done. You can’t do the... eye thing... before the other eye thing has dried.
I have learned to nod and not ask questions.
• •
THE EVOLUTIONARY BIOLOGY DEFENSE
Now, some women reading this are getting ready to send me emails.
“This is sexist.”
“Not all women.”
“My husband takes longer than I do.”
First: I don’t doubt it. Men have our own time distortions.
“I’ll take a look at it this weekend” = never.
“Just gonna run to Home Depot” = three hours.
“Watching the end of this game” = the game, the postgame, and highlights.
We’re not innocent.
But here’s the thing I’ve learned:
Her extra time is not wasted time.
One day I actually watched what she was doing.
She was preparing to be SEEN.
Not by me…I’d see her in sweatpants covered in dog hair and think she was beautiful. But by the world. By other women who would notice her shoes. By her own reflection that she’d catch in the restaurant window.
She was assembling armor. She was constructing a version of herself she felt confident presenting to a world that judges women on appearance in ways men will never fully understand.
While I threw on the same shorts I wore last time and called it good, she was making seventeen decisions about how she wanted to feel for the next four hours.
That takes time.
Maybe the time is the point.
• •
THE FIELD NOTES
Some additional observations from my years of research:
The Proximity Paradox: The closer you get to on-time, the more things she remembers she needs to do. At 30 minutes before departure, she’s calm. At 5 minutes before, she suddenly needs to switch purses, find different earrings, and “just send one quick text.”
The Outfit Recursion Loop: If she asks “what do you think?” about an outfit, there is no correct answer. “You look great” = you didn’t really look. Specific compliment = you’re only noticing that one thing. “Maybe try the other one?” = you don’t like this one. Silence = you hate it.
Just say “you look great” and mean it. She’ll change anyway but at least she’ll change feeling supported.
The Departure Fake-Out: She will pick up her purse and walk toward the door. You will stand up, hopeful. She will suddenly remember something and veer off toward the bathroom/closet/kitchen. This will happen between one and four times per departure.
Do not get excited until her hand is on the car door.
The Car Continuation: Getting in the car is not the end. It’s a transition. She will finish her makeup using the visor mirror. She will check her phone. She will ask if you have [item] even though you always have [item]. The car is an extension of the getting-ready space.
The Arrival Recovery: After being 35 minutes late, she will walk into the event like nothing happened. She will receive compliments on her appearance. She will socialize effortlessly. You will stand there, still recovering from the time dilation you just experienced, eating a cube of cheese and wondering if time is real.
• •
THE ACCEPTANCE
I used to fight this.
I used to show up at the bathroom door. “We’re gonna be late.” “What’s taking so long?” “You said five minutes twenty minutes ago.”
This accomplished nothing.
The timeline was never going to change. I was just adding stress to a process that was going to take however long it was going to take.
Now?
Now I’ve adapted.
Departure time minus 45 minutes = When I tell her we need to leave
My ready time = Whenever I feel like it, because I’ll be waiting regardless
Book in the car = Standard equipment
Emotional state = Acceptance, bordering on Zen
She’s going to take the time she’s going to take. The restaurant will hold the table. The movie has twenty minutes of previews anyway. The party doesn’t really start until 30 minutes after it “starts.”
The whole system is built on flexible time.
I was the only one who didn’t get the memo.
P.S. My buddy Mark told his wife they had to be somewhere at 5:30 when they actually had to be there at 6:15.
She figured it out within two events and now adds 45 minutes to whatever time he gives her.
They’re locked in a temporal arms race.
Neither of them will win.
But they’ve been married 31 years, so maybe that IS winning.








