It's Chapter Sixty Nine Time! Men and Women: Complicated and Upside Down, and not in a Good Way

“I am becoming a lesbian. Men suck.”

I love texting. So concise. So honest. So . . in the moment.

My only saving grace is that I actually sent this whining to a male friend. He responded immediately with, “Women are not much better.”

Sigh.

Oh, he’s right. We all suck. Every one of us, regardless of gender. We screw up, we disappoint, and when things get complicated or confusing we just run away. But I must confess the junk I am bitching about most loudly possesses irony that is not lost on me.

Case in point last month I sent a text to someone I thought I was over. (Oh, I know, so dumb, I already realize this. Please, no emails chastising me for the dumbness of it all. Well aware, well aware.)

The minute I send it I get a text from someone I wish would leave me alone. I am not shitting you, like within 30 seconds I am transported to the flip side of relationship land. I sigh. Loudly.

Only me. Only me . . .

So I don’t get a response to the heartfelt message I sent.

But the guy who texted me, I don’t even consider responding to.

I am both perpetrator and victim. Nice.

When I told another guy friend about my experience later, he had some candid thoughts. (I know. My life is like “When Harry met Sally.” Except that I have so many guy friends my version would be called, “When Every Tom, Dick, and Harry met Sally.” And you know what else? It gets worse. My Harrys are all cute. At least in that cult classic the character was played by Billy Crystal. Are ya kiddin’ me? I’d just be his friend too. Billy’s short and balding. Funny and witty, but still, short and balding. My guys are all hot. I think this is worse. So forget the prior analogy, my life is like, “When Brad Pitt, Orlando Bloom, and George Clooney met Sally.” Only in my version, Sally remains eternally platonic with these gorgeous gods forever. Forget comedy. With a cast like this, my movie is utterly tragic. Someone hand me some Puffs with lotion, I am starting to depress myself . . . )

Sorry for the dude digression.

As I was saying:

So . . . the verdict from one of my purely platonic pals with a penis on the silent treatment I was the recipient of was bluntly delivered in the old reliable “I am a man and I do not believe in too many adjectives” style.

Basically, he looked at me and stated oh-so matter-oh-factly,

“He’s a dick, Audra. Forget him.”

I sigh again, (damn, is it just me or am I sighing a lot lately?), and debate the stark black and white and make the case for grey, “No, he’s not a dick, he just has nothing to say.”

My guy friend just looks at me for just a few seconds.

And then grunts, again,

“Dick.”

I refuse to surrender to his assessment. Because what about the silent treatment I dished out to the guy I had no interest in? Does that make me a dick too?

“Not the same.”

“Oh really,” I respond, buoyed momentarily that I am going to come out of this looking good, “and why is that?”

“Because he was a freak. I’d have ignored him too.”

I do not feel better. Basically I am being told that I am pining for a guy who is a dick and in the meantime I am attracting freaks. Or worse yet, I am acting like a freak when it comes to my contacting the guy who, according to my friend not me, is a dick.

This is not uplifting.

Not uplifting at all.

“And how is this supposed to make me feel better?” I demand.

“What? Why not?”

My male muse is lost. He does not see my logic. At this moment I am clearly wearing my Team Venus gear and he is clearly in all Martian attire. I begin to wonder if there is any hope at all that the great gender communication cavern will ever one day be bridged.

“What?” he says again.

I just smile, pat his hand, lie through my teeth and say, “Thank you for the insight. You’re right, I do feel better.”

But the truth is I just don’t think there’s hope.

Because what the hell is hopeful about a world where women pine for men who act like dicks and the freaks keep running after the women who make freaks of themselves in pursuit of the dicks?

Huh?

If this is our reality then we are all just screwed. Completely. Utterly. Unabashedly.

Screwed.

And you know what? Forget my lesbian plan. Women are a part of this messed up sucky equation too. Because obviously, as my first guy friend stated, we are not much better.

I am going asexual amoeba.

Because if I know anything it is this, I do not suck. Well, not to myself.

(But I bet if you asked the guy who is still waiting for me to respond to his texts? Yeah, he might disagree.)