May
Posted on 12th May 2008
This may come as a surprise to “some,” but there is something that I have been struggling with throughout most of my adult life. And no, it’s not alcoholism or my sexuality (though there are definitely some people who would tell you I have problems with one or both of those things). Oh fine, I’ll just come out with it: about once every three months or so, someone mistakes me for a woman. I am not troubled or offended by this or anything, just puzzled since, you know, I’m six feet tall, weigh around 175 pounds, and have worn fairly prominent sideburns for at least the past decade or so. I just don’t think I look at that much like a chick when it gets right down to it, that’s all.
When I was in my early twenties, a time when my hair was longer and my skin fairer, it made a little more sense to me that people thought I was a female person. I remember being at a Mexican restaurant in Cleveland with my mother and the waitress came over to our table and said “Ladies, can I get you anything to drink?” My mother and I both got a big kick out of it (though I imagine a part of my mother was also dying inside). And that’s usually how it goes- I’ll be at a restaurant or a store counter of some sort and the person working there will say “Can I help you ma’am?” or whatever. I never correct them either- I just let it slide and usually they just try to recover and act like they didn’t just mistake me for a person without a penis. In a way, I’m actually flattered that people mistake me for a lady. It’s sort of a compliment to my delicate features maybe. Then again, maybe they just think I’m a seriously ugly broad, the kind that sailors talk about late at night in their creaky bunks.
Recently, I was in Philadelphia for the night and was having a drink at a bar when a barback pushed past me while saying “Excuse me, miss- I just need to get by here.” My friend Leeza can confirm he was speaking to me and not anyone else. A week or so ago, however, things were taken to a whole new level when I was walking down the street in Washington, DC and a homeless woman began chasing me down the street with a pylon while laughing and telling me that my “pussy stinks.” This really got me thinking. Someone looks at my face and thinks I’m a woman. Sure- I get that. But someone claiming that they can actually smell my vagina? That is some serious next level shit right there. I must admit, however, that if I did in fact have a vagina, it certainly would stink. Like daisies, that is! Frickin’ crazy homeless lady- she’s got a lot of nerve. For the record, I gave her the leftover Chinese food I was carrying at the time- even after the accusations of me having particularly stanky lady parts. I hope she was happy.
Anyway, I’m not really sure what to make of all this. I guess there are worse problems to have really. In fact, this isn’t really a problem when you think about it. And- if nothing else- I’ve been taking extra care in the shower of late and really giving myself a good scrub, you know, downtown where the problem appears to be (at least according to that homeless woman who ate my Chinese food).
In semi-related news, my friend Martha sent me the video below. If I were ever actually going to be a woman, I could certainly learn a few tricks from this one:
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