(Excerpt from the movie Shall We Dance)
Beverly Clark: “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet… I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you’re promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things… all of it, all of the time, every day. You’re saying, ‘Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness’.”
Everyone has enjoyed one sloppy, alcohol-filled evening. You wake up in the clothes you were in last night, which are now covered in stains of other people’s sweat and booze. You roll over to find some unfamiliar fat, hairy dude lying next to you in your bedroom. You stumble out of bed, up to the mirror and through bleary eyes notice that one of your earrings has gone missing. Lovely. As much as I’d love to say I speak from experience, I don’t… I speak from friends’ experiences. I am far from judgemental, but what I do find amusing is that every girl talks about finding prince charming (a tall, dark and handsome doctor or lawyer) and riding away (in the doctor or lawyer’s Ferrari or Benz) to their enchanted castle (a three storey loft with a rooftop terrace) in the heart of the magical kingdom (King St. West, Toronto)… but no one wants to act the part of the princess, at least not the type that I mean. The type that respects herself enough not shove white powder up her nose in bathroom stalls on the weekends, who doesn’t need two people to hoist her out of the club because her legs have become to wobbly or numb to function due to intoxication and the type that wears clothing that leaves something up to the imagination (because, let me tell you, men have an active one and if they want to picture you naked, you could be wearing a parka and you won’t be able to save yourself).
Come Monday morning, the ladies of the world are revving up enough “anything you can do, I can do better” attitude towards their countering gender to last the work week. You saunter into the office, unimpressed by Ron from accounting’s attempt at opening the door for you. Chivalry: a fossilized ideology. After 5 days of meetings, paperwork and over-time, you are ready for a relaxing Friday evening… and then your phone begins to vibrate. Your gal pals are anxiously awaiting you to begin their customary weekend of “Sex and the City” roll-playing.
The above may not be an accurate reflection of your lifestyle… but the underlining message is the same. No guy wants to take the sloppy-girl-from-the-bar home to mom. No guy wants a fire-breathing feminist slapping his hand away from the car door when he’s trying to open it for you. The soul-crushing feminist act we’ve got going on 24/7 nowadays has left men rocking themselves in a corner muttering, “Damned if I don’t, damned if I do”.
You want a witness to your life? Live a life worth witnessing. If you want to be cast as the princess in a real-life fairytale, you have to audition first. Respect yourself enough to know your alcohol limit, dress with class and avoid substances that a) make your brain bleed b) make your nose unbearably itchy c) make you see things that aren’t really there. And let a man, be a man… you may just get a nice diamond ring out of it 😉