Hangin' with the Hissem and Defining the Difference Between Bitches n' Hos
I've always gotten along better with boys. I was talking to my mother this weekend and she was recalling when I was a little girl. She got a phone call from Nathan's mother (my best friend's mother) explaining, "I told him that she simply can't be the ONLY girl he invites to his birthday party, but he won't listen." I said I didn't mind. And sure enough when my mother came to pick me up, there were the boys wrestling in the dirt, and I was on the swing in my pink dress just smiling away and watching.

Similarly, I invited boys to my birthday party even though several girls wouldn't come if there were boys. I told him my mother, " I don't care if they won't come. It's my party and I want Nathan and Jeff to come."

Later Nathan and Jeff would turn against me. In middle school, when I became a social pariah because of my disability. They spread rumors about me, namely that I had skinny dipped with them and tried to seduce them sexually.


At about the time that it became dangerous for someone to even be seen talking to me if he/she wished to remain popular or even well liked, rumors began to circulate that I was a slut. In fact, when I was in a wheelchair for two months recovering from major surgery with a two inch metal rod sticking out of my left foot, the rumor going around was that I had had an abortion and the cast on my leg was put there by my father to "cover."

No one tried to explain the two inch metal rod sticking out of my foot.

So I am used to being the only girl in the company of men and being called a slut.

Last Friday I was sitting outside of the new Lion's Den surrounded by my male friends. I like being the Queen Bee. Ariel arrived and kissed my hand. Rasputin arrived and began to argue about the proper way of kissing a woman's hand. Thus I sat there, two men kissing my hand, each debating with the other about technique.

I imagine French court might have been like that.

As I sat there, one of the female regulars walked by and saw me holding court. "What do you call a male harem?" she asked.

"A Hissem," I responded without thinking. Thus I was hangin' with the hissem.

The thing about the hissem is that although I am surrounded by men, I would never date or sleep with any of them.

Later that night, a regular at the local watering hole accused me of being a slut. "I see you in here talking to a different guy each time. What am I supposed to think?"

Do you see why I sometimes deeply hate men?

It's not as if I was dating this guy or had any personal connection to him, yet I was expected to explain myself , and my predilection for male company, to him. Uh let me call my personal assistant, Yeah Ellen, I have a question, did I have anything I was supposed to tell this guy? Yeah? Really? Thanks. Yeah my personal assistant says fuck you. No wait let me call my mother, I'm sure she would like to say fuck you to you as well.

Alright listen up you primitive screwheads, now if you are disturbed by a woman's choice of bed bunny calling her a slut is NOT the way to ensure an invitation into her boudoir. If anything, she will never EVER touch you again.

And just to clarify, I'm a bitch not a slut. If you're going to insult me, at least get it right, flapjack.

A slut is a woman who fucks everyone at the bar.

A bitch is a woman who fucks everyone at the bar BUT YOU. (One of the bartenders I used to be friends with used to take great delight in introducing me to his friends as "his bitch" and then proceed to explain the difference. I wanted him to make me an official "Sean's Bitch" t-shirt.)

I was initially furious with being called a slut, but then I remembered the stories my mother told me about being the only girl happily playing amongst the boys as a child and I thought, "Fuck him. I'm going to talk who I enjoy talking to and if HE can't handle that, well, that's his problem."

Why is it so hard to conceive that while I might be surrounded by male attention, I am not sleeping with any of these men?

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