By Wil Forbis
Sometimes, I wish I was a woman.
Upon saying that, I can
almost hear the collective groan from my limited readership of slackers,
ner-do-wells and cross dressers, all saying, "Oh, geez, Wil. We're quite
familiar with your endless misogyny at this point so you can't possibly
be serious about this 'wishing you were a woman' jazz. Unless it's going
to be some sort of quickly scribbled fantasy about fondling your own
breasts. Or walking into women's restrooms and shooting footage for
those decrepit web sites you entertain. Or how you'd like to find out
what it would be like to be lesbian."
Please, dear reader, you
insult me. This is the new, introspective Wil Forbis. He doesn't waste
time with such juvenile debauchery. The new Wil Forbis is about FEELINGS,
and SHARING, and ENGAGING IN A COMPLETE AND TOTAL UNDERSTANDING OF THE
HUMAN EXPERIENCE IN ALL ITS MANY WONDERFUL FORMS."
(On the other hand, what
would it be like to be a lesbian? That's something that just seems totally
removed from my realm of experience, though I used to be a big fan of
What got me started on this
bent, you ask? I guess I've always had a sort of repressed interest
in what it'd be like to be a woman. It goes back to the many instances
as a toddler where I'd dress up in cashmir sweaters and paint myself
with cheek rouge until my dad finally broke down and said, "Might as
well make some money off him." and charged his drinking buddies ten
bucks a shot for me to give them "extra long hugs." (Hey, you can laugh
if you want, but where do you think the money came from for the first
year of community college?)
But seriously folks, I think
within all men there's a hidden side that would like to explore their
femininity. Because, whether or not anyone admits it, women do have
a particular kind of power in society. Men must wield their power in
a brutish, gorilla like fashion, beating our chests and throwing our
own feces at those who oppose us. But women have a much more subtle
way of imparting their influence. With a batted eyelash or uncurled
leg, a clever gal can con most men into throwing their feces at her
enemies! Whether that's due to women's intellectual superiority or men
gibbering idiocy is up for debate, but the result is just the same.
In addition, I've always
been jealous of the choices women have available to them in terms of
fashion. Men have their clothing options laid out thusly: Shirt, Pants,
Tie (optional). But gals have dresses, skirts, feather boas, hats, eyeliner,
lipstick and a variety of crazy hairstyles. Can guys get highlights
or waves? Not unless they want to be eating their own teeth.
This is not to say I think
it's all fun and games being a chickeroonie. There's the obvious negatives:
the sexism, the mood swings, the monthly "flows," and the maddening
onslaught of uncontrolled lust that occurs whenever a well defined male
such as myself walks by. Hey, I get the point... it aint no piece of
cake to be a woman! (That's another negative: the way chicks can't have
a piece of cake without feeling guilty and drowning their kids.) But
despite that, I really feel as if there's something I'm missing by not
being part of the vaginalistic people. A certain self expression...
A certain comradery...
Now don't get the wrong
idea here. I'm not about to go all fruity on you! I'm not going to dress
up in women's underwear and walk around Central Park. I'm not going
to start calling all my drinking buddies "girlfriend." And I sure ain't
gonna sit down and watch the girls on "The View" interviewing Courtney
Love. I'm still one hunnert percent ALL MAN, DAMMIT! I'm still doing
manly things like belching and farting and adding to my collection of
eighteenth century tea cups. But I want to make a point here - being
a guy isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, I've heard all you
chicks talking about how it's a man's world, and how you can't hit the
glass ceiling on your way out and how a woman's work is never done,
blah, blah, blah... but let me tell you, it ain't no picnic over here
on the side of the three legged people. In a man's world, one false
move and they're calling you a homo, or a commie or even worse, an intellectual!
Then they're pounding your head into the gym locker while they start
up the McCarthy hearings. We're bound by the other end of the chains
that bind us all honey, knowwhatImean! You feel my pain don't you sister?
Yeah, you over there in the blue dress, you unnerstand what I'm talking
about, right? Say, you're looking pretty good there, howzabout giving
daddy a kiss? Huh? Huh?
Wil Forbis is a
well known international playboy who lives a fast paced life attending
chic parties, performing feats of derring-do and making love to the
world's most beautiful women. Together with his partner, Scrotum-Boy,
he is making the world safe for democracy. Email - email@example.com
Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.