A boyfriend for your thoughts

“If you ever want a boyfriend, you have to stop being so opinionated on Facebook. No one wants a woman who’s all angry and annoyed,” someone told me as the answer to a question I never asked. Another person said to me,

“Jeez, just be happy, will ya? I’m so sick of talk of sexism and feminism and blah, blah, blah.”

“When it comes to feminism, people need to chill out – on both sides of the fence.” another one said at another time. And another and another and more and more. And tonight, for the first time ever, I understood.

I met the audience after a show I did. First guy stood uncomfortably close to me. I took a step back. He took two steps forward. He was a bit drunk, I excused it in my head. One more step back. His breath hit my lips. I got away.

A man told me about the other female comedian who had been on the bill, “She was right in front of me. I never saw her face, I just stared directly at her crotch – and that was fine by me, if ya know what I mean?”
And another audience member followed up with, “Ah, her tits were great too though. Didn’t hear a word of what she said, mate.”

Older, bald guy came up to me and said, “What are you doing now?”
I said, “I’m going to my hotelroom. I need to be alone.”
He said, “If I wasn’t married though…!”
I said, “I’d still be alone.”

Someone pointed at another audience member and said, “Look at how she’s dressed. You just know that she’s one of those golddigging whores who just stay at home all day because her husband is rich.”
And I said, “I spoke to her. She runs her own company. She’s single by choice. She’s a millionaire and a trailblazer.”
And he said, “…”

And of course, the classics. “Finally a funny woman”, “Girls usually aren’t funny, but you…” and “You were awesome!” (that one wasn’t offensive, I just wanted you to know that someone said that to me).

(A few weeks ago I was a guest on someone’s podcast. The opening question was, “So we’re here to discuss why women aren’t as funny as men.”)

And I’m back in my hotel room now. I sat down and wanted to write a status, expressing my frustration with these experiences. With these comments and these men (‪#‎notallmen‬) and this and that.

And I felt it. The fatigue.

I am too tired. It’s too exhausting. Really? Am I going to do another bitchy status, where I whine about being a GIRL and how it’s so HARD and SOCIAL JUSTICE and BURN YOUR BRAS and DON’T SHAVE and blah blah blah. It’s getting old. It’s getting boring. And most importantly, those boyfriends who were just getting in line for my hand in marriage (I’ll be wearing white as if 2008 never happened), will only vanish at the click of the Post-button.

Because it happens so often, every day. Anything you have to repeat will get dull. Doing the dishes, brushing your teeth, masturba… Anyways. These things happen on a daily basis.

And it’s annoying and tiring to listen to and read about. But the reason I did it anyways, is because it’s even more excruciating to have to deal with. I swear, as soon as none of this happens anymore, I’ll stop talking about it. And then maybe, in that golden year of 2150, I can get a boyfriend. Or you know, meet someone in 2015 who doesn’t prefer his women indifferent and quiet. Or maybe, wait a minute, not focus at all on how my opinions and social media activity will affect the members of the opposite sex? Is that possible?

You’re probably thinking, “Did you just write this status so that you could implicitly tell us that you’ve done a gig that went well, in Dubai where you’re currently on vacation, and that your legs are really smooth?”
But how do you know all those things? I haven’t said any of that, even though it’s all true.

I’m saying it because the alternative is not saying it. And maybe by saying it, it’ll make a tiny change. If nothing else, I expressed my feelings. Which is just such a classic woman-thing to do, man. What’s next? I’m gonna period all over this status or something probably. Shoes. Cosmopolitans. Brad Pitt. C’mon girls, let’s do the chant:



That’s because if we admit to wanting equality, that means we have to speak up and actually, like, demand it, you know. And then the boys will think we’re hysterical, so uhm… I’ll just stay here below my pay grade.

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