All The World's A Stage

When I was in college my friend Weezer told me he always decided whether or not he’d bang every girl he saw on The Quad.

Now ignoring for the moment that I have a friend called Weezer, let’s just say this information floored me and I’m not someone easily floored. I dubbed it The Weezer Rule and it’s had an effect on the way that I’ve since carried myself. Since Weezer is a pretty typical dude then he probably speaks for a lot of others. And if, in fact, every guy I pass by is silently debating whether or not he’d fuck me, then I should certainly walk with my head held high. Let’s face it ladies, even if not all of them want us, guys tend to follow their penises around like divining rods so there are probably quite a few that do. Thus, instead of treating The Weezer Rule like a degrading or even a misogynistic experience, I learned to embrace it by making it work for me in that I can derive some confidence from knowing it’s taking place. After all, I have the power of the vagina on my side, and that's nothing to sneeze at.

To be honest, in the past I’ve also found myself doing the same thing. I think of it as evening the playing field. But lately, it’s happening a lot more often. What’s scary is that my boredom and loneliness are each casting their own votes now. That’s making for some unprecedented internal dialogue; for instance, suddenly guys in skinny jeans and man capris look more desirable. Metrosexual, Northside-dwelling drunk Cub Fans? Yeah, I’d hit some of that, even the ones rocking pink polos. I better get a hold of myself before Gold Coast married dudes walking fluffy little dogs start to look good. Hey, I’m still detoxing here.

However…

When I’m not actively evaluating every guy I start to feel as if I’m off the clock, and I don’t want to be evaluated either. Too bad it doesn’t work that way. I happened to do quite a bit of walking yesterday and as I did, I found that when I passed by a man, I actually averted my eyes. I didn’t want to be judged, or even positively reviewed. Perhaps I'm not as confident when I’m not wearing my sexuality on my sleeve because when it’s not a tit for tat interaction (insert your own tit joke here) it’s just doesn’t feel the same. Suddenly I feel subjugated rather than celebrated and I don’t like that. So the challenge now is to actively ignore The Weezer Rule and learn to appreciate myself without any male approval. Easier said than done at this point in my life, but I’m trying.

Yesterday, as I navigated my way down Chicago Avenue, I attempted to place a higher premium on things beside the way I consciously wiggle my ass when I walk. Carrying myself with confidence when I know people are watching is one thing. Carrying myself with that same confidence when I’m the only one paying attention is quite another. There’s no way to stop guys from doing what, according to The Weez, guys like to do. But I’ll be damned if I can’t stop myself from caring.

xo