Interaction

Posted: March 15, 2010 in Beauty, City, Culture, Imagery, Life, Love, Night, Romance, Urban, Women

“a blond walks into a bar.” Inhale, cheeks swell, then exhale. Eyes refocus through haze upon mine, amber browns versus cheap blue fifties telephones trying to tell stupid joke.
“is it a man or a woman?” Haze dissipates, smoldering cherry trails lit by green Heineken neon behind.
“what?” Blink, confusion, cocked head. “what do you mean?”
“sexist jokes written by sexist men. no one ever calls a man just a blond. it’s always a blond man. you’ve never wondered about that?” Eyelashes fan twice rapid, dizzying. Ash flickers like falling snow to maple/oak/whatever wood grain surface of table.
“uh…no, i haven’t.” Hand fumbles for long brown neck, squeezes and lifts, tipping amber brown liquid down mouth.
“same thing with nurses. a guy isn’t just a nurse, he’s a male nurse. they need to make that distinction to separate their masculinity from what’s perceived as a feminine job. it’s all to make them feel comfortable.” Uncomfortable myself now, want to go yet captivated by plunging neckline and glitter eyeshadow. Primal instinct pulsing with undertone of bad romance.
“female heiresses in the news; guys are always ‘playboys’. don’t you think it’s wrong?” Unsure of words, years of male-female conversation skills shift into gear.
“totally.” Irritated glance towards disinterested answer that prompts continuation but no involvement. Slightest shake of head.
“cops are always men, women are policewomen. it’s a power thing, you know. from jokes to titles, men have put themselves in control through every little facet of society.” Eyes now narrowed into sideways glance towards me, undisguised anger.
“yeah.” Mumbling, cheap blue fifties telephones already wandering to blond downwind of angry feminist.
“am i boring you?” Question missed, unconscious male coping en route to Titanic iceberg.
“uh-huh.” Amber browns turns to dark slits, cigarette pushed into ashtray, purse snaps closed and heels click decisively towards door. Feminine frustration incarnate directed towards typical masculine insensitivity. Blink, confusion, cocked head. Shrug, turn, eyes focus on blond. Gravitate towards adjacent barstool.
Maybe she’s a nurse.

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