We decided to go out to dinner with our son last night. During dinner, he received the devastating news that Phillies’ pitcher Cliff Lee was placed on the 15-day disabled list with a strained oblique. You’d have thought he had just found out the dog had been stricken with cancer; he was practically despondent. Cliff Lee is evidently the lynchpin of his fantasy team.
I will never, ever, ever, never, never, ever understand men. Never. At least not the ones with whom I have the pleasure of sharing my life. Things like ample food supplies, presentable clothing, clean toilets, and…oh, I don’t know…INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS don’t even cross their minds. A fantasy baseball team setback, on the other hand? Well, that’s Earth-shattering!
For the record, it’s not even one of the fantasy teams where you invest real money to enter. It’s JUST ABOUT BRAGGING RIGHTS.
And that, my friends, is Reason #2,573 that I want to come back as a man.
No, seriously. I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than being a man. I mean, it was probably pretty stressful back in the Don Draper days when they were expected to be the sole providers, but Gloria Steinem swooped in and lifted that bag of bricks right off their chests.
Don’t misunderstand me; I love me some Gloria Steinem. I watch Mad Men every week and worship at her altar because I had NO IDEA women were treated so poorly prior to the women’s movement. That said, I think the movement benefited men at least as much as it did women; maybe even more. I bet Gloria didn’t see that coming AT ALL. Probably because she never had children she had to raise in addition to working a full-time job. In fact, she didn’t even bother to get married until she was 66 years old.
No wonder she was so fucking happy.
I have often fantasized about what it might be like to be a man. These fantasies began when I went to work in the corporate world about 20 years ago. Not for the reasons you may think, however. It wasn’t about salary or career advancement. It was about bathroom etiquette.
If a woman finds herself in the unenviable – nay, horrifying – position of feeling a gurgle in her intestines at work, a full-blown crisis management plan goes into effect:
- Make excuse to co-workers for sudden departure (‘I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee. Can I get you anything?’)
- Find most unpopulated ladies room (discovered in previous recon missions; located in male-dominated departments like shipping, mail room, etc)
- Scan for feet under the stalls.
– If none exist (bliss!), proceed with ‘business’ as quickly as is humanly possible in the event that someone walks into the bathroom before the deed is done.
– If feet are spotted (argh!), run to stall furthest from occupied stall, scan toilet seat for signs of past sloppy hovering, wipe seat if necessary (and it will be necessary, for women are pigs), cover toilet seat with that ridiculously loud tissue seat covering thing, sit and try to relax – silently! – until the bitch in the other stall finishes up. Pray that she doesn’t have OCD and feel compelled to wash her hands for seven minutes like she’s a fucking surgeon. Once she finally leaves, proceed with ‘business’ as quickly as is humanly possible in the event that someone walks into the bathroom before the deed is done.
– If more than one stall is occupied, abort mission and make a beeline to second-most unpopulated bathroom. Try not to shit yourself on the way.
If a man feels a gurgle in his intestines at work, the plan is as follows:
- Make an excuse to co-workers (‘I’m going to go take a dump.’)
- Grab a newspaper.
- Head to nearest bathroom.
- Proceed with ‘business’ (feel free to take as much time and make as much ‘noise’ as is necessary.)
Freud had it all wrong. It’s not the penis we envy; it’s the lifestyle. It’s being able to poop without shame in a public restroom. It’s never having the words ‘does this make me look fat?’ cross your lips or even your mind. It’s being able to go about your day without having to worry about experiencing an unexpected wardrobe crisis because you coughed too suddenly or you laughed too hard or you got your calendar confused (yeah…that whole area is a disaster waiting to happen.) It’s being able to walk out the door showered, shaven and dressed 15 minutes after you get out of bed. It’s not having to juggle (or even care about) a social calendar or gift giving or family obligations. It’s having a personal assistant who practically chased you down and forced you to marry her (What. Was. I. Thinking???). It’s enjoying the countless benefits a woman brings into your life in exchange for taking out the trash and killing the occasional centipede.
Yup. Totally coming back as a man.