Women (of a certain age) Gone Wild!
I grew up amongst strong women. My friends were entirely female throughout elementary school and we were often referred to as ‘girls and Max’. It’s happening again at WORN, where we’re ‘ladies and Max’. I don’t mind. I love women. I even think female comedians are as funny, if not often funnier, than their male counterparts.
But even so, I was a bit trepidatious about being one of the few men in attendance at ‘Love, Loss and What I Wore’ at the Panasonic Theatre. But it was a chance to see legendary funny ladies Andrea Martin and Mary Walsh (pictured above) live, in the flesh.
As my fellow Wornette Anisha and I took our seats, I glanced around the theatre and confirmed that I was one of about twenty men in the theatre. Okay, maybe there were a bit more. But we were outnumbered. Most of them were husbands or gay guys. Unsurprisingly, the latter were more enthusiastic theatre dates than the former. And almost everyone was middle-aged. Anisha and I were easiest the youngest in the room.
“I need to use the washroom,” I said, five minutes before curtain. “I’ll be right back.” I raced downstairs only to discover that the ladies had taken over both the women’s and the men’s restroom, lining up outside the doors. “Great…” It was bad enough that I really had to pee, and that the play was about to start, but what was really frustrating was the smirky looks from the women I received as a man having to stand in line.
‘How the tables have turned, ha ha!’ the looks said.
When I finally made it inside the men’s washroom, I noticed that there was a line of urinals being unused because the women were lined up beside them waiting for the stalls. This was annoying. If the ladies had just stepped back at bit, I would be able to use them, and be one less person in line, and everyone would win. But no; they stayed beside the urinals, laughing and leering at me, until only one lady was left.
“Now you know how it feels!” she said.
I was done with this little game, representing all mankind for her. “Yeah, but you’re not made fun of when you have to go to the restroom.”
“Well, yeah,” she stammered, “but at least you get a little taste of being a minority.”
“Yeah… I’m also gay.”
Forgive me. How often do you get to out yourself like that? Couldn’t help it.
After she was gone, I made a point of using the urinal; my right, as a man.