Better Living Through Absurdity

This week's topic: It's a Double-X Chromosome Thing

The female of the species generally comes with her own particular set of quirks. These differ from those of men in that they tend to have a higher potential for irrationality, irritability and usually, an illogical sort of premise that’s being followed. I can say this, because I am female. Some women are smart enough and learn to reject some of these more annoying foibles of womankind –other’s…like the vast majority…aren’t.

One in particular that has always fascinated me is the need for one woman to prove something to another women –especially when a man is involved. Now men are often accused of “marking their territory” or getting into pissing contests –and yeah, they do have a tendency from time to time to act rather boorish. But women are just as guilty of this, if not more so. Because they’ll mark territory even when a) there’s no dispute of ownership or b) there’s no ownership to begin with. Hence the illogical sort of premise I mentioned earlier.

Here are a couple of cases to prove this less-than-miraculous bit of nature:

I was talking with a friend of mine at school…male of course…who I’ve never had more than a friendship with. But we are good friends and extremely comfortable with each other, so perhaps that’s misinterpreted somehow. Anyways, we’re outside having a conversation and a girl walks up. We both acknowledged her and continued with our talk –I knew she was in one of his other classes and I knew he thought she was attractive. But as we were discussing something kind of important, we just wanted to get it out of the way before starting another conversation with a third party. She decides for some reason that I’m a threat. Despite the fact that I smiled at her and said to just give us a sec to get some details clear AND complimented her on something –I was a threat. No ownership, no challenge –and yet, she felt she had to do something about me. So as I take off my glasses to clean them, she neatly inserts herself between us and gives a startled, “Oh!” sound. We both look at her and she says, “You know, without your glasses, you’re ALMOST pretty!” I just raise an eyebrow and say, “I try.” But my friend is staring at her totally aghast –all he can think to say is, “Bitch!” Which of course, was not the desired result she had hoped for. She stomped off, I was trying not to laugh too hard and my friend was trying to figure out what just happened.

Another time I’m out at a restaurant and there’s a guy there who I’m friends with and we’re chatting at the bar, just enjoying our cocktails, reminiscing about old times and catching up a bit –and this girl walks over. Now she’s apparently a regular and she’s got a little thing for my friend. So of course, I become the enemy. She sits down next to him –close enough to be sucking up his portion of the room’s oxygen supply. She then proceeds to lean over, her shirt gaping to expose a bony chest with no hint of curve and gives me “that look.” I just raise my glass slightly and smirk at her, shaking my head a bit. She then drapes herself all over him –arms and legs tangling like some sort of over-tanned bit of calamari. It was actually quite hideous to watch. He looks distinctly uncomfortable and he’s trying to politely disengage from the corpse-like grip the succubus is attempting to maintain. I’m laughing at this point –and of course, like any animal in the wild, she acts like she’s scented fresh pray –so she leans over him again and says to me in this overly-saccharine voice that promises nothing but eternal shame and damnation, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m so friendly –but he’s just SOOOOOOO cute, don’t you think?” At which point, I give her the gimlet eye and shrug slightly saying, “Well it doesn’t really bother me at all if you want to play barnacle –but his boyfriend would sure give you a smack or two if he caught you!”

*shakes head sadly*

Women. We fight for the right to vote, we declare that we are independent, determined, capable, we assert that we are equal to anyone, male or female, and we loudly claim that we are the more logical, rational and mature of the species. All of that may be true –but if you’ve ever seen a group of girlfriends go to a bar or club, where the ratio of good-looking men is far lower than that of women, you’ll quickly see that perky group of BFF’s turn into a writhing, ugly mass of embarrassing comments, blatantly false rumors and an overabundance of weight-related insults, all in order to determine which one of those future sacrifices on the alter of thick-necked, ham-fisted groping gods, will emerge as Queen Cunt.

I’d bring popcorn if I was you.