Penis Schmenis

(November 11, 2001)

It's quite a day when you're slapped in the face with the wet noodle of your own reality.

So here's what happened. I found this cool birthday card. It has a sketch on the front of a woman's arm bedecked with bangles. It says, "Who's to say how many bracelets are too many?" And inside it says "Hope you get too many of something you like on your birthday!"

I loved it. I bought it. There is one girl who I kinda know but not really, whose birthday I missed by about a month. This card, really, is perfect for her.

Cool card.

So I go to mail it and I think...wait a minute. What the hell. She doesn't give a flying fuck in a high wind if I missed her birthday or not. And she couldn't say when MY birthday is under threat of death. Plus she will probably read something negative into this card. She'll think I'm calling her shallow, I bet, because really, has she EVER given me a chance? Goddammit, she hates me just for trying, doesn't she? What am I, an asshole? When do I LEARN is what I'm wondering. "Hey, you don't like me one iota even though you smile to my face. Here, take this card to show I was thinking of you on your birthday. Why don't you flush it down the toilet with all the olive branches I've given you."

It's amazing, really, how quickly I can work myself up, don't you think?

I decided to save this card for a girlfriend instead.

And that's when it hit me.

All my girlfriends are...boys.

What...like...happened? I had girlfriends. I did. I mean, yes, I have always said, "ha ha, I have more guy friends than girls, ha ha ha, pour me another tequila." I've said that, and I've even written it here. But really, the MARGIN of boy-friends to girlfriends was within one or two. NOW the margin is...well, if I were a corporation, I'd be bankrupt. If I were on Seinfeld, I'd be Elaine. Fuckin' Smurfette.

Looking at this card (now it's lost its coolness; it's a nasty, horrible little card with its burbly, stupid camaraderie) I imagined a couple of scenarios. Testing the truth, y'know. Pretend I got some really really good news. Who would I want to call first? Top three, say.

Top three...boy, boy, boy.

What if, say, I needed advice? Say, of a sexual nature, or something relationship-wise? Relieved, I was, to find that there's a girl in the top three for that one. A sigh, though, skidded to a stop on its way out of me when I remembered that Nancy is gay.

Oh well. So are some of the boys. That evens things out, doesn't it?

Stupid card.