Oh, alright, that’s not quite true, but you have to admit “I hate most women,” doesn’t have quite the same zing. Of course, I’m excluding the women I’m friends with and the women I’ve yet to meet whom I would be friends with. But let’s be honest: most women are assholes.
She’ll storm out of the room, will never speak to you again and spread horrible and vicious lies about you until the day she dies. But it’s not her fault. You see, she’s has been raised to believe that the truth means nothing. It’s people’s perceptions that are essential. It’s one of society’s best kept secrets: men are blamed for ruining everything, while the fairer sex, who’s devious and reprehensible behavior has escalated even more catastrophically in the last 20 years, continue to walk away without so much as a slap on their delicate Chanel-laden wrists.
Now, I’ll admit: I’m an actress, and actresses are renowned for being self-involved & icky. Which we suredly are. However, I’ve managed to convince myself that by cleverly combining self-deprecation, self-awareness and a decent sense of humor, I’ve somehow managed to turn these hideous qualities into charming "character quirks." I think. Anyway, we’re not even talking about me, okay? Jesus.
But apparently I’m in the minority here. Due to the insane popularity of these shows, it’s clear that the "dumbing down of women" in this country isn’t just a passing fad, like Chihuahuas as fashion accessories. Nope, this shit is being fed to all of us in giant, gloppy gumdrops, and instead of waking up with a headache & no teeth, we want more. It’s here to stay. The new "reality" seems to be this: The dumber, sluttier, more talentless & personality-free you are, the more fascinated we are by you.
Along with an addiction to alcohol or dolls, another criteria is an addiction to plastic surgery. And not that subtle, “well-rested” crap, either. Ideally, upon gazing at her visage, the viewer should be equally torn between giggling and vomiting. She must have a voracious appetite for money, yet none whatsoever for food. A lack of taste and self-awareness is a must. She can’t hesitate at the idea of mortifying her husband, friends and children. And finally, she must crave fame, drama and attention, at the expense of all else in her life.
And here you thought getting cast on a reality show would be a breeze.
*It must be said that this isn't the case with all these lovely lasses. Some are hard-working, good people who are genuinly funny. But only a tiny percentage of them. Like, 1 to 2%.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ve only managed to stomach a few episodes of those shows before bursting into tears of rage. I can’t help but picture Gloria Steinham or any other feminist from the 60’s and 70’s watching these shows. I imagine them thinking “Well, if THIS is the equality we fought so hard for, I would have sat at home and read a goddamn book instead.”
These ladies are far from the only ambassadors of odious comportment on television. I wish. Just off the top of my head, there are: the rose-obsessed psychos on The Bachelor, the expressionless fame-whores on the Hills, the hateful shits on “America’s Next Catalogue Model,” and we can’t forget that utterly noxious family who managed to spin their daughter’s sex tape into world domination. To name but a few.
Things aren’t all that different in real life. (Well, I’m not sure you can count living in New York City as “real life,” but it’s real to me.) It all began the day I graduated from NYU. The girls I had befriended there were all really smart, funny and ambitious. But the moment we graduated, it was like someone flicked a switch. It took me a few weeks to comprehend why so many of my girlfriends had become strangers to me, until one day it dawned on me that the cool girl I sat next to in film class, the girl I spent hundreds of hours discussing the similarities between Buñuel and Hitchcock while stoned out of our minds no longer had any interest in becoming the next brilliant actress, screenwriter or director. While I was still trying to discuss ridiculous things like the audition I just sucked at, or berating Demi Moore’s latest film (in 1990, usually a sure-fire conversation starter), all I'd get in return was a blank stare, followed by a barely concealed yawn. I soon learned my friends now had far loftier objectives in their lives: to torment some love-struck bozo until he proposed, have a huge wedding, all while spending as much of his money as humanly possible.
I’ve never understood the fascination with marriage, which I’d like to tell everyone in my home-town doesn’t mean I’m gay. It just means I don’t see what the big deal is. Maybe I’ll change my mind if I ever have kids, but I doubt it. When I was younger and would day-dream about my future (which was pretty much every waking second of every single day), I never once envisioned myself married. My fantasies instead would revolve around flying to some exotic movie location with my adorable adopted son in tow. This is when I was nine or ten years old, long before Angelina made it "cool".
Once that's been beaten into the ground, she begins to regale you with long monologues that sum up how happy she is. How sweet her hubby is. How thrilled she is not to be alone anymore (unlikeyou.) This is when we subtly move into a phase I like to refer to as ‘The Psychotic Yenta’. She begins insisting you’re miserable and lonely (you're actually not, unless in her company), so she starts setting you up on blind dates with her hubby’s inevitably homely & dandruff-ridden friends. It isn’t long before you understand that "He used to be a model!" is just code for "He used to have teeth and hair!"
This is the phase in which you slowly begin to realize that this woman you once loved has now morphed into a stranger. Not only that, but a stranger you kind of dislike. But you desperately hang on, convincing yourself that the girl you’d skip classes with, the girl who let you weep on her bed for weeks after your 1st heartbreak, the girl who made you laugh until you cried, the girl who once knew every single word of every Violent Femmes song by heart--she must be in there somewhere.
Sadly, she's gone forever.
Because now she has CHILDREN. And if you don't have CHILDREN, you can't endlessly discuss the most boring topic on earth, THEIR SCHOOLING. This is when the relationship finally reaches it’s sad conclusion and putters out. I mean, if you can't discuss THE CHILDREN or THEIR SCHOOLING, what the fuck else could one possibly talk about?
I guess the screams of HER CHILDREN have dulled HER HEARING, because if you dare to yelp in stroller-agony, you'll be lucky if she allows you a disinterested glance before she skips to the front of the line.
Last year, I had just had lunch with a friend and wandered home, stopping to get an ice cream cone. There I am with my pistachio, happy, enjoying the pretty spring day, when I realize I'd inadvertently wandered to a block where a school was just about to let out a stream of youngsters. This was the calm before the storm. Range rovers & lexus's lined up and many, many mommies all having a good chat.
That is, until I walked by.
Because the conversation fell silent, I looked up from my cone just in time to see all of their faces scrunched up into expressions I immediately recognized as pity. I could almost hear their thoughts "Aww, that's so sad! All alone. I remember how lonely I was before Susie. Poor thing…"
It’s all I could do to refrain from cramming my melting cone into one of their pious faces. My face burned, and a block later I realized my white knuckled hand had crushed my waffle cone. A bit defensive? Sure. But any unmarried woman above the age of 35 will tell you that it’s not easy.
Has anyone stopped to consider that marriage isn’t the Holy Grail for everyone? That some women are actually happier unmarried? I’m not saying I don’t love men. I adore them, and have wonderful & fulfilling relationships with them (unless they're cheating motherfuckers.) And I love children. I just happen to believe there are too many kids out there who need great homes, and have no inclination to pass my faulty addict genes on to another generation. I've always planned on adopting.
We have to stop the insanity. Because we are the only ones who can truly help & support each other. Without each other, we’re lost.
