Or, as Peter Sellers as the famed Inspector Clouseau would have put it, "But... of course!"
Are you sure? Really sure?
Anything goes, right? This is the Nineties. It is a time not to reflect but to move progressively forward. Again I ask, what does a whoa-mun think of all the men they've stereotyped as two-legged wolves out there in the real world? The ones they swear stare her down, drool whenever she passes. What does she think is going on behind the scenes of all those appreciative smiles?
Perhaps, men are raping her with their eyes, judging her inner character by her style of dress, or sampling a hundred what-ifs about what it would be like to take her out on a date?
Guess again all you sweethearts of the rodeo out there. Some of us men may be actually thinking of our day head. A good many of us are already considering the ball game on TV tonight or other sport delights that will have us glued to the sets. Then again, there are just as many of us comparing you in a small way to the valentines we already have at home. You're okay, but you just don't measure up enough to fill her shoes. You simply don't fit the bill, sweetheart." (Humphrey Bogart or Peter Lorre -- you pick this time). Sorry. Don't pass Go or turn your chin up toward the sky. You're nuttin' honey. A sight for sore eyes but our eyes aren't sore.
That's our reply. Truth or fiction? Corporate, or fact?
Got you wondering now, don't I? Cracking an ankle as your high-heeled shoe slip from under you. Heh-heh.
Heh-heh.
Maybe you're blushing. Could you be wrong about men? After all this time? We're already acutely aware of your plans for the Nineties. You want to continue to be as independent as hell. Business all the way. Go double-dutch as you walk through the doors of a theatre. Demand separate checks at the dinner table. Sigh a contract as to amount of foreplay to be allowed before engaging in hot and steamy bedroom antics. No? Are you disagreeing with me? Take another look, dah-ling. You're already buying and keeping a fresh supply of condoms in your purse. Ones with bumps and pre-greased. If I'm wrong, tell me what kind of party blows balloons up like that. Hmmmmmm?
Getting back to the main topic of this essay, a lot of women shudder when they openly talk about walking by a crowd of men. If you listen in, you're apt to hear all kinds of lewd comments escaping a suspicious female's lips. "Pigs," one woman may snort. "Chauvinistic Neanderthals," might be another comment worth logging away. "Is that all they think of -- look at?" A number of them cry out in unison.
The truth of the matter is, as women, you don't really know what most men are thinking behind closed minds at all, do you? All you see is a number of watery-eyed males with impish grins on their faces, and you automatically think the worst. Or, for some of you, the best.
Continued
