Anyone who believes this probably never had a family member screw them over.
Getting together one evening with friends, I noticed that we all started off together as couples, which was probably for about fifteen minutes max, then the transition happened. The guys and the girls went their separate ways. It never fails that anytime guys and girls get together it seems like we revert back to the old fashion school day rules of the girls on one side and the boys on the other.
I was a victim to this child’s play and wasn’t even conscious of it, and to tell you the truth, neither was anyone else. It seems like we all start off together then we separate for awhile and come back together again. But when we come together, we somehow seem to sit boy-girl style or the girls on one side of the table and the boys on the other. Subconsciously saying to one another like we did back in the day, “my side is better than yours.”
Finding a guy sitting at the girls table will eventually end up with the guy being bullied by the girls and this is not a pretty sight. One time I just had to ask this guy that was at our table why he was sitting with us. He never came up with a good enough answer so we told him to leave and if he didn’t, we would all personally gang up on him and kick his ass.
If a girl is at the guys table, the guys will never tell her to leave, she will either leave on her own because she is bored to death with the conversation, or one of the other girls will rescue her back to their table by saying, “Why are you sitting with them? Come sit with us.” It is this constant flow of harmony that we have to have with each other and if someone breaks the rhythm, everyone feels it.
Yes, there’s one in every crowd; the couple that has to be joined at the hip no matter where they go: the “trophy couple”, the one’s that throw everyone out of sync. They are the ones that stay together throughout the entire party, never leaving each other’s side. Yup- there he is, kissing his women’s ass by getting her food and drink and honoring her every command all while he drinks fake beer. This always seems to spike up conversation at the girls table with mixed emotions of, “I wish my husband did that,” to, “Oh my God, they are so disgusting.” Here’s the deal about the trophy couple: no one really wants either of them at their table because they can’t be separated. So the secretive girl and guy talk has to be kept at a “PG” rating because we can’t get down and dirty due to a space invader that is at our table. But in the trophy couples eyes, if they can’t sit together then they will stand it out, because they’re a package deal. And to us they are pathetic. Too bad they choose to stand on the side lines instead of joining in on the fun. But then again, what would we do if we didn’t have them to talk about? God knows they make for great conversation pieces. It’s not every day you get to see a guy that traded in his balls to ride bitch and drink O’doul’s, and a girl who totally dishonors her womanhood and only knows how to claim her power by being a needed bitch.
Yes, it’s the way we were raised and the nature of the beast as to why we claim our territory and our sides no matter where we are. We seem to live with this imaginary line that separates us from each other. Think about it, how many times do we say, get on your own damn side? And no other place is this statement used more than in the bedroom by us girls saying to our men, “Get on your own damn side!” But here’s the difference between guys and girls in the bedroom: the guys will always give us an open invitation to join them on their side and we all know why that is, but us girls, we don’t give a damn about that. We won’t allow them in our space unless we give them the okay and even then we can change our minds in a split second because it’s what we do best, and if the guys can’t handle it… too bad. As far as I’m concerned they are lucky they can still sleep in the same bed with us seeing that we have to come to bed suited up like we are going in for combat just to go to sleep, with our pillow barriers, gas masks and ear plugs. Complicated? Not really, I say, “just stay on your damn own side and everything will be fine.” Hey, let’s face it; this system of the guys on one side and the girls on the other has been working like a charm since the beginning of time, so why ruin a good thing? Yup- I’ll drink to that!
- Making the first college tuition payment.
- Going to an Italian funeral and you have no idea how you are related to the person that just died.
- Your husband getting all the compliments about the food he cooked on the grill, yet he had nothing to do with the preparation.
- Walking out of a business meeting and a bounce dryer sheet falls out from under your skirt.
- Letting your teenage son go grocery shopping and he comes home with only half of the items on the list, yet manages to bring home a ten pound bag of buffalo wings and a six pack of red bull.
Changing a women’s life one bitch session at a time, it’s one of my greatest gifts. Cheers girls! Let’s keep ‘em talking!
At my wit’s end one evening, I decided to pour out this conversation to my girlfriend: I said, “What the hell ever possessed me to get married and have kids? It’s like this whole family thing….I just don’t want to deal with it anymore. I feel like everyone has attached their tentacles on me and I am trying to cut them off but the more I try to break loose, the tighter they latch on. And now it’s to the point of no return and I feel like I am being choked to death!”
As she poured both of us a glass of wine, I made a toast and said, “Here’s to making the world go away,” and I shut off my cell phone. Yup—it’s official; I am cut off from the outside world for this happy hour session. No one knows where I am or what I am doing. Life is good!
Well let’s call it what it is; I’m on this revolution for myself and all women. I’m sick and tired of not being able to “have my funk and eat it too.” Everyone is entitled to have their moment, and space to have it… But not me. I have to suck it up, get over it, and deal because no one has time for my funk.
With another glass of wine and my girlfriend bringing out a spread of appetizers, I began to recite one of my speeches from my “give me liberty or give me death” series titled, “In my next life.” Yes this is my series of speeches that could go on and on for hours. But I decided for tonight to just break it down and take out all the fillers. So here I go: “In my next life I’m not doing men. I’m not doing marriage. I’m not doing kids. I’m not doing animals. I’m not doing cooking. And lastly, I’m not doing cleaning.”
Then my girlfriend asked, “So what is it that you’re going to do?”
I said, “I’m gonna do what I wanna do and that’s that!” I stood up from my chair with my wine in hand and began talking with great expression as if I was charging up a crowd of women. I said, “Sister’s, for the love of God, do you realize that we all bought into this package deal and we didn’t even bother to read the fine print? This is the longest contract of our lives and we signed it with our blood while blind folded. Yup, once again we didn’t do our homework or any research because we didn’t think we needed to. Now I know why they say ‘till death do us part’; because even if we try to cut all ties, somehow, someway, we will always be attached.” I sat back down on my chair and said, “I’m so riled up right now. I feel like driving down to JFK and booking a one way flight to the Fiji islands.” Then I took a sip of my wine and let the evening sunset have its way with me as I imagined I was on the beach.
Just then my girlfriend’s cell phone rang, she looked at the number, handed me the phone and said, “Your flight is canceled.” Dazed and confused I said, “What! What the hell are you talking about?” She said, “that island thing, it’s a no go.” Yup- they found me. I couldn’t even hide out in peace. How sad is that? I have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Have my funk and eat it too; how could I? I can’t even hide out at a girlfriend’s house to “de-funk” myself because I made the mistake of always letting everyone know where I was going, what I was doing, and giving them a phone number just in case of an emergency.
With nothing left to say I looked at my girlfriend and said, “Funk me!”