i may be “a gay,” but i’m still a girl. and us girls play games. whether we want to admit it or not, we all play games, esp. when it comes to our mates/spouses/partners/signficant others.
and we all get burned once in a while with these games. and i suppose that, yes, i was playing a game with holly the other day and i got majorly burned.
here’s the story:
we’re driving in the car on the way back from breakfast at our favorite diner–or maybe we were coming home from home depot, oh who the hell knows, we’re at that goshforsakin place so much (i swear i get hit with a wave of exhaustion every time we walk thru those damn double doors that’s so severe i could fall asleep standing up, no lie) and it’s right across the street from the diner so it’s all become a big blur to me–and we had the radio on. it was one of those morning drive-time radio shows headed by a big-mouthed, obnoxious, mildly loveable dj whose job it is to stir the pot and egg ppl on.
so the topic at the moment was…let’s see, how can i phrase this without it sounding as trashy a topic as it was/is. the topic was the “theory” of how women that are “less attractive” are often “better in the sack.” the dj apparently backed this theory 100%. both women and men were calling in to share their thoughts, including women that rated themselves lower on 1-10 “scale,” announcing to the dc/baltimore metro areas that while perhaps they weren’t raving beauties that could stop traffic, they know how to have a good roll in the hay.
i decided to rate myself.
“i’d say i’m about…a six,” i said to holly as she drove. i could already hear her response.
“no way, babe! you’re a total 10. an 11. off the charts.” and she would seal her declaration with a kiss.
instead she paused and said, “you are not a six, babe! you are totally an eight.”
(you just stopped breathing for a second, didn’t you?)
and then the sadness only women and very vain gay men are able to feel.
and then RAGE.
“WHAT?!” i shrieked. “I’M AN EIGHT?!! YOU THINK I’M AN EIGHT??! I…I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU JUST TOLD YOUR WIFE SHE’S AN EIGHT! DON’T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WOMEN! GEEZUS I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY I’M A TEN! A PERFECT TEN!”
first she was stunned into silence. and then she went into all-out protection mode.
almost no one’s a perfect ten she said. practically no one. not even celebrities.
i had goosebumps. i was that upset. i told her this. and yet–she didn’t budge.
on looks alone, she surmised, she could only think of two women that she’d rate as tens. the girl (latika) from “slumdog millionaire.” and drew barrymore. (even in my rage, i had to admit to myself that my partner really does have impeccable taste.)
then she proceeded to say that her personal “rating” system takes into account not only looks but personality. oh and this was supposed to make me feel better? if you add in my sparkling personality, that alone should make up the two points and give me a ten!
oh we had a jolly old fight about the whole thing. it was really classic. really, you should have been there. (really, you shouldn’t have. i just said that to say it.)
in conclusion, ladies, watch the game playing. i know you’re all sitting there shaking your heads like perfect angels, oh no, i don’t blame games! i would never!
oh but you do. you do and you don’t realize it. or maybe you do and you’re just scared to admit it. regardless, do yourself a favor. don’t put a “score” over your head and expect love of your life to do what s/he is supposed to do and rate you as a ten or, you know, an 11+. while we’re at it, don’t ask if your butt looks big either. b/c if you’re asking, it just might look big and you know you don’t want to hear it.