Who Would You Do?
by
November 22, 2005
It is widely supposed (by men and my mother) that “locker
room conversations” are exclusively within the purview of the male of the
species. I’ve always wondered why this
myth (and the “size doesn’t matter” fairytale) has persisted for so long.
Women are absolutely the worst
offenders. Hands down.
Unlike men, we rarely lie – and
if we do, it’s generally to shield the gentleman in question from ridicule
rather than to make ourselves look good.
Let’s face it – we don’t have the same performance anxiety that compels
men to tell bald-faced lies to their friends.
(But to be honest, there’s a fair
amount of ridiculing going on too. Ever
since my friend Susannah confessed that her boyfriend – our mutual friend, Carl
– called his penis “Officer Friendly”, I have not been able to look at him with
a straight face. And just a hint, gentlemen, be careful of your between the
sheets conversation. Exhortations to
“take the whole 12 inches baby” made by a man who is less than generously
endowed is almost guaranteed to become the source of side-splitting hilarity
among the girlfriends of your bedmate.
We talk about everything – from
sexual difficulties to the location of the best bikini waxer and all points in
between. How to let a guy down easy,
how to get over a man who just dumped us.
How to fake it and get away with it (to be employed only in the most
extreme circumstances.) That sort of
thing.
I doubt you’d hear any man
casually asking his buddies what he should do about erectile difficulties. Never going to happen. Men seem to need to foster the impression
that they are all sexual dynamos, capable of satisfying any woman, anywhere,
anytime.
If that were true, I doubt my
junk email box would be full of solicitations for penis growth creams and cut
rate Viagra. Let’s face it ladies –
even though there have been recent warnings from Health Canada that Viagra
might cause blindness, men are still going to be lining up for the stuff. Even if it were established that Viagra made
men’s eyes explode, guys would still be buying it by the truckload.
Women will talk about their
insecurities (sexual and otherwise) to their friends and do it freely and with
excruciating honesty. Sometimes it’s
hilarious. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking. But we do discuss it.
Outside of the locker room,
however, we tend to be subtler about it.
Being discreet gives us the advantage – we get to retain the butter
wouldn’t melt façade while still have an uproarious time with our girlfriends.
Take, for example, the worldwide
phenomenon of “Who Would You Do?” The
game is pretty self-explanatory but does involve a complex scoring system. And every single woman I know is an aficionado
of the game. Every single one. And I know a lot of women.
Who Would You Do can be divided
into general categories (i.e. firemen – my personal favourite) or specific lust
objects (Ioan Gruffudd is
mine) and can encompass obvious favourites (Brad Pitt) and the bizarre (Johnny Knoxville). Even those men who set off obvious gaydar
alarms (Wentworth Miller, for
example) can be included – this is the female version of fantasy football, so
anything goes.
There’s an online version of the
game going on as we speak – involving contributions from me (Canada), Marti
(Australia), Anna (Norway), Anita (Pakistan), Josee (France) and Ulrike
(Germany). Natalie is a grand
master. I’m no slouch myself. The best part about it? We all like different types. OK, we agree on a few – I’ve recently begun
to see the merit in Natalie’s Ben
Browder argument, but I’m totally stumped by Josee’s attachment to Orlando Bloom, which to my mind
borders on lesbianism. And I take back
the Jude Law thing (thereby
forfeiting 25 valuable points). Any rat
who cheats with the nanny automatically is off the list, regardless of how cute
he is. And those nude pictures were a
rude awakening – as one woman succinctly observed, he’s got his father’s eyes
and his mother’s penis.
We’ve even developed shorthand –
phrases that can be blamelessly uttered in public and seem innocuous but are
actually lurid comments on the allure of the various males that may cross our
paths.
It was Marti from Australia who
posted a photo of a young man who took her fancy, with the comment “…and I
would shag him at least ten different ways.” This caught on with the rest of us – now all
we have to say in public is “ten different ways” and we all get the message
without appearing coarse to passersby.
Is it sexist? Mais oui -- insofar as men would mind being
sexually objectified. In fact, I’m not
even sure that’s even possible. Most of
them would consider it a great compliment.
But really, it’s a harmless form
of female bonding. We’d all die before
letting these guys know we had the hots for them, of course, and most of them
we are never going to meet.
So there you go: pastimes of the overworked and
dateless. Give it a try sometime. You’ll be surprised at how addictive it is.
Till next time,
Morrigan
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