With MBA and Live Theater filling.
Today has been a long day of many long days. A student by day, I, in a moment of foolish nostalgia, agreed to run sound for play. Not that I need an excuse to stay up too late, I’m a habitual night owl, so its difficult for me to reason myself into going to bed early, getting out of bed in the morning. In fact I mentally reason myself out of my sense of studious obligation with the weak, but persuasive argument, “the bed is so warm though, and you’re already here.”
Today all of my other activities seemed to be sandwiched by, well I’m not sure how to succinctly say but, more or less gender observations.
When I came to school this morning, I walked up the stairs with a metro/hipster looking guy. He had a hip-Asian haircut, a tight black shirt with a white splatter design, designer jeans, and a small messenger bag. The most attractive feature however was his pointed ostrich skin tooled Italian-style boots. By attractive, I mean my eye was attracted to the odd way he walked up the stairs, which then moved to his feet as the source of awkwardness. These boots were so elongated and pointed they were like the new extra-long-don’t-squish-your-toes high heeled shoes. It took a flight to realize that he looked odd because he was trying to plant his whole foot on the step, and his obscenely pointed shoe kept hitting the vertical part of the stair. Then another flight for me to realize that he continued to do it because he’d probably never learned to “Barbie-foot” (as Stan calls it). Called such because you only put the ball of your foot on the step and you keep your heel up. By sight this looks like a Barbie doll foot that is permanently formed for a high heel. Anyone who’s worn high heels knows it’s almost pointless to seek purchase on stairs with that teeny-tiny point below your heel. Surely though, he’s run up stairs?
I’d never considered that someone wouldn’t know how to walk up steps on the balls of his feet. The fact that he hadn’t figured it out by the top of the steps was more surprising. Is it a luxury to always be able to firmly plant your feet, or does it create an inability to move appropriately for a situation? I’m also pretty sure that guys know how to do this, I mean boxers, dancers, they have to know how to move. It struck me as odd, almost as if I was watching a man in drag walk up the steps.
Then at the end of my day, I was sought out for advice from a young lesbian about dating a tranny(FTM). I, however, did not say run for the hills and save yourself. Surprising considering my experience. Rather, it was just sage advice, good for any situation, be honest with yourself about what you want, and be honest with him, blah blah blah. The only thing remarkable about the conversation was when she brought up, as her main objection, not being comfortable on the receiving end of a strap-on. It’s times like this that something comes out of my mouth . . . not intending to be funny, simply trying to make a point. And I quote:
At some point in your lesbian career someone is going to put a dildo in your vagina, so if that’s all that’s holding you back get over it.
This is something I’m glad I get to say. I get frustrated that so many people, and young people still, don’t understand cultural influence on gender, and the difference between gender and sex. But despite having to almost constantly explain that women aren’t biologically ‘feminine’, I’m sincerely glad that I have a different lens to view the world through. It’s like a behind the scenes look at our culture. Or maybe more like watching a horror movie . . . yeah, that may be more realistic, ’cause sometimes I just want scream and throw popcorn at them.
