Men,
Are you feeling uneasy?
We’re all aware of the stages we went through during the decades.
We cried, yearned for our mothers, and needed building blocks, little fire engines, baseball bats to hit Nerf balls, macaroni and cheese, and loved chazerai (the Bhutanese word for sweet treats, think Rice Krispies, teiglach).
We then graduated to baseball mitts (I can’t recall the last time I used that word, mitts), footballs, and throwing things at each other in the cafeterias, causing general mayhem.
We moved on to smoking in the boys’ room (I think Mr. Littler is coming, said our lavatory spy), trying the grass that wasn’t mowed, drinking liquids that distorted and made milk unappetizing, getting into or running from fights with other boys, skipping classes, and our clothes, constantly dirty.
Was that enough now that we hit our late teens or early twenties? Not for soon-to-be adults (or is it ‘a dolt’) men. We discovered women in a big way. They were round, soft, sweet, and delicate (who cared if they hadn’t yet learned English). They were all pretty in those days and hopefully not too bright. That’s what went through our minds. Steer clear of valedictorians and honor student girls. We weren’t looking for intelligent conversations. Other possibilities would satisfy our needs, not thoughts about biology or statistics, culture, opera, our emotions or lack thereof, or our primitive communication skills. We ran on testosterone, not brains (yes, I know, there are exceptions, but I never played in the band or was a member of the chess or theater clubs, but I was familiar and friendly with these kids).
Young women occupied our minds about 98.6% of the day, which is interestingly and contrarily enough, normal body temperature. Every swirl of their long hair, every long neck, every curve, even every word they said, we would dissect as something sexual underneath. For instance, I just put on blush for the first time was interpreted by the male as a gesture to test if it came off when kissed.
Trial and error ensued thereafter. Some relationships were pleasant, while others were not so good. However, romantic relationships are a learning process for both genders.
To this play, “Some Girls.”
The protagonist is a Lothario, and still a young man. As a writer for high-quality magazines, he requires a subject for his next story. Therefore, he interviews his past relationships, inviting intelligent, hardworking, and successful women he had dated years ago, separately, to communicate as the new, mature person he is. His intention is twofold: to apologize for his immature behavior and to gain insights for his upcoming article. Oh, and he is about to marry a new woman.
He meticulously compiles a long list of women he interacted with in his past and narrows it down to five. He then invites them over to express his remorse for his juvenile narcissism (Heraclitus; character is fate, fate is character). However, times have changed, and the women have evolved. They are not overly tolerant of his newfound persona or his impending article. Although, he has flown to meet them, and they are curious as to why.
Despite the man’s repeated apologies, the women remain skeptical. They compel him to confront his past trivialities, but to anyone who has attempted to influence an egoist, it feels like sawing sawdust.
The play was an uncomfortable read for me. I create distance with that type of young or old id (an old Freudian term).
The play’s tone appears authentic, but the subject is banal, verbose, and cliche. The verbal intercourse is exactly what one would expect.
Should you read it? No, you’ve likely heard it all before, ladies.
As for men, well, who knows?
Not for me.