Things like Hunting for Bambi, the last few pages of a magazine (hell, any magazine front to back), earning $0.75 on a man’s $1.00, it’s enough to make me just give up – throw in the towel – say, “Screw it! It’s a man’s world, and I want a penis!”
Pensively thinking of how it all sucks, I got the sense that this handsome, well-dressed, 30-something man was keeping pace with me as I walked to work. He stayed by my side from 7th to 6th Avenue. Finally, between 6th and 5th Avenue he managed to eek out, “Thank God it’s Friday, huh?” As I instinctively do when someone addresses me, I turned my head to face the speaker. I made no response but rather raised my eyebrows as if to say, “Huh? You talking to me?” He repeated, “I said, ‘Thank God it’s Friday, huh?’” “Yeah,” I smiled, turned my head face front again and kept on walking.
I wasn’t rude, but just lost in my own thought and not interested in faking a conversation with someone I won’t see again. Having failed, he crossed the street, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic just to get away from me.
Then it dawned on me: I don’t want to be a man after all. I don’t want to be so driven by one thing, to always be hunting for Bambi only to have my bullets ricochet and shoot me down over and over again. So, I guess I’ll be keeping my vagina for the time being and the only penis I’ll have won’t be my own. Anyone know of a penis I can borrow?