Woman on Top – but it’s not at all what you’re thinking or maybe it really is

Ah you’re a perv, now I remember why we’re excellent friends/moderately acquainted/not repulsed by each other. And if you know me at all, you’ll also know I consider myself a “feminist”. I often hesitate to use that word because I once lived with a women’s studies major who called herself a feminist, but let me tell you, each are mutually exclusive things. In any case, this isn’t a preachy “I am woman, hear me roar” rant either – not overtly anyway, I’m sure I’ll throw in some less than subliminal jabs here and there.

Let me start off by saying that I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while. I keep telling people my full-time employment gets in the way of my unemployment blog. But what keeps a person (namely me) writing? I’m glad I asked; as it gives me time to consult the handy Venn diagram I created in Paint (because that is the extent of my computer skill).

So as we can see (or maybe you can't -- I don't know why it got so blurry) for “increased writing frequency” can be a result of “ample time” or being “angry at men”. HINT: I can’t see any sand around me, and that my spinning class tomorrow is going to be phenomenal. I will also add that I have to be up in less than six hours, but I’m hell bent on writing this anyway.

I’m a self-proclaimed bonafide (oxymoronic) storyteller; I talk a lot with my hands (must be the Italian in my blood) and more than once I’ve been asked if I’m an actor. Storytellers need stories (preferably their own); which means one would need a plethora of experiences to draw upon. And today my stories come from a character I like to play called: a single girl on the town.

Act I, scene i

[Single girl on the town (SGOTT) is walking up a flight of stairs from the bathroom at Brant House when a hand rests on her arm]

Man the first: You’re really good looking.

SGOTT: Thank you.

[Both continue walking up the stairs, SGOTT waits for her friends who didn’t scamper up the stairs quite so quickly]

Man the first: I’m Ryan Murphy.

SGOTT: Oh, are we on a full name basis now? I’m Sarah…Chan.

[unmemorable chatter ensues – until]

Sarah Chan: So what do you do?

Ryan Murphy: I work in the big tower on King

S. Chan: The BMO tower? Neat, I work midtown; I wish I worked right downtown.

R. Murphy: [distracted by the loud booming music] Listen, I don’t really care what you’re saying; you’re a really good looking girl. And I definitely think you should call me.

S. Chan: ???

Act II, scene i

[Past last call at Tattoo Rock Parlour. SGOTT is dancing her pants off (figuratively) with her two lovely friends when someone places a hand on the small of her waist]

Man the second: Hi.

SGOTT: Hello.

Man the second: I’m Finny

SGOTT: I’m – Andrea.

[Hesitant arms length dancing (but not quite grade seven slow dancing) ensues. At some point he takes off his hat to reveal a shaved head]

“Andrea”: I shaved my head once too.

Finny: No way, I don’t believe you.

“Andrea”: Why would I lie?

Finny: Bullshit.

“Andrea”: I did Cuts for Cancer a few years ago

Finny: That’s really admirable. I bet you guys still hit on you. It doesn’t matter what your hair looks like you’ve got a pretty face.

“Andrea”: Thanks(?)

Act II, scene ii

[Nearing the coat check line and about to exit Tattoo, enter Man the third desperately seeking the last minute hook-up]

Man the third: You’re so sexy.

SGOTT: You have yourself a nice night.

Act II, scene iii

[Soliloquy]

SGOTT: At one point in the night a lesbian couple started making out on the dance floor. And

those of the presumably heterosexual male persuasion started losing their shit. It’s one of the ultimate male fantasies, isn’t it, to get it on with two girls? But the best part is that lesbians aren’t making out with each other for the aim of being noticed by men. They aren’t drunk college girls (or if they are, they aren’t feigning homosexuality) with low self-esteem vying for attention. Lesbians have all the control in this situation and straight men are weakened at the knees by this fantastical girl-on-girl action. And that kind of power is something I wish I could have. Alas, the soft, supple kiss of a woman is just not for me.

Through the misadventures of this single girl on the town I’ve learned many a lesson. Being single in this city comes with its share of hilarity, especially the thought of my panties immediately dropping to the ground because someone calls me sexy as I leave the bar. Though it can be argued that my experiences could easily happen to a girl who is part of a couple, from what I observe and have experienced myself, couples are usually more likely to stay at home and watch a movie. And then they actually make it through the whole movie and not use air quotes to describe their night. Come on, you’re pervy; you know what I’m talking about. Also, I’ve learned that I’m still hot, but no one cares what I have to say and that beauty is only hair deep? Moreover, we most definitely still live in a world where straight white men hold an abhorrent imbalance of power. (There’s that not so subliminal jab I promised.) But I’d say on the sexual hierarchy men have met their Achilles’ heel. So more power to the lesbians, says I. Finally, a woman on top. Oh get your mind out of the gutter.

[END SCENE. Exit stage left.]