Wednesday, November 12, 2003

I'm the prize

Let’s work under the assumption that women feel more comfortable, more right, more in control, when they are the prize for some man. They want to be individuals, as we all do, but they want to be special, as we all do.

They want some man, or all of them, to seek them out like a prize.

I decided to tell these women, “I am the prize now.”

The problem I was first confronted with was a million years of socialization. All the men in the place knew that certain women were the prize, but none of these women knew I was.

I tried to be the mysterious stranger, but they just thought I was shy or uninterested, according to the later survey.

I tried to be aloof and send mixed signals, but they just thought I was married.

Meanwhile, the women who were the prize communicated this effectively to their male correspondents with much the same body language that wasn’t getting me anywhere at all.

Finally, I went around to all the girls and said, “Look, I’m the prize. It’s me.” Nothing. “All your life you’ve tried to woo men by being the thing they wanted. Well, look, I’m that thing for you. It’s the same except I’m that thing.”

Nothing.

by Jack, November 12, 2003 6:19 AM | More from The Damned Human Race | More from Women

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2 Comments

In Vino Veritas said:

I take it back: Jack, you're a piece of work. After decrying a particularly loathsome womanly behavior ("They sat there and waited for guys to kiss their ass"), you go and try to implement it for yourself? Like I do the Warren Report, I expect more of you.

November 20, 2003 10:25 PM
Jack said:

The worst part is it works for them but didn't for me. "Where's my equal rights amendment?" But you're right, of course: when I see disgusting behavior, I'm more jealous than disgusted. I rarely get away with it now that my looks have gone.

November 21, 2003 2:21 AM

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