There are two posts that I write in my head nearly every night. One of them is about how I've been running lately, listening to This American Life, but that now, since I've run out of all my podcasts, I've been listening to David Sedaris', "When You are Engulfed in Flames," and how ridiculous I must look staggering down the sidewalks of this suburb, trying to keep running while laughing my guts out. Everyone must assume I'm crying, and it kind of cracks me up to think of how completely loopy I must look.
The other thing I've been meaning to say is how mind boggling it is to me that nearly every night as I'm sweating my weary way over sidewalks, red-faced and jiggling in places I would rather not, some ass in a pickup truck or shiny car honks his horn at my ass and scares the life out of me. I actually jumped once. And really. Seriously. What are these men thinking? Is their mating honk from the road supposed to impress me? Am I suppose to be flattered? To leap over the curb, throw the truck door open, the empty McDonald's bags aside and into their waiting and muscular arms? I've contemplated giving them the finger, and I haven't written that off completely, but, I haven't done it yet either. I think because I realized the other night, after another horn attack, that this is really just another way that men and women are ridiculously different and yet still the same species.
I don't think I've met a single man who would be insulted to have a woman honk, whistle or catcall him. I'm guessing even a little ass pat might go over well for 90% of men - if you're a reasonably good-looking woman. Now, I'm speaking in stereotypes, I know, but most men seem to not only like, but desire, this kind of attention, which is funny,and probably dissatisfying considering most women won't give it. And then, of course, I have also met very few women who are comfortable with men doing these things to them. It makes us feel vulnerable, reduced, diminished. So here, on these suburban sidewalks every night, while I sweat and jiggle away and have my short socks scared off, communication between the sexes breaks down again. Good grief, I think. Is it no wonder we have such a hard time understanding each other? Staying in love? Agreeing on which movie to rent?
Still, I'm keeping my options open. I've got my finger on the ready.
