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Control Tower

It's Raining Men

I don't usually read the Seattle Weekly, but one of its columnists recently published a plea for enlightenment, on her own behalf and for one of her readers, about why men "run scared at the mere thought of commitment." Judy McGuire, AKA Dategirl, pronounced herself "stymied" by this, and said she'd be "waiting with bated breath for your answers."

Well, Judy, I know something about dating women--let me bring a little cross-cultural insight to the party. There's a joke in the queer community: What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul. Only, for some women, that ain't no joke. They're the Velcro girls, for whom "dating" equals "total emotional fusion." It's like fucking the Borg Queen. And those straight women who whine endlessly about why-won't-men-commit? They are the het counterparts of those U-Haul lesbians. Every time I read one of those tirades, I think: Hey, baby, it's not just men. I'd ditch your clingy ass, too.

Get real, ladies--the world is full of men who aren't afraid of commitment (why, I've got one myself). But you need to get your emotional identity together and stop playing the victim. However, I know major personal growth doesn't happen overnight, so I have advice on a short-term strategy, too. It isn't very politically correct, but then again, neither am I.

On your first date, tell the guy that you think you're probably a lesbian. Really. Anyone who's seen Chasing Amy or Kissing Jessica Stein knows that cute femmy lesbians are irresistible to men. You should refer vaguely to a woman you've been seeing, but you should act a bit... dissatisfied, somehow. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he could change your mind should hang unspoken in the air.

Bonus points: Arrange to run into him with your "girlfriend." Stare at her, radiating sexual energy, and forget what you were saying in the middle of a sentence. This will drive him mad with desire. More importantly, it'll give you some plausible deniability. "Sure, we're sleeping together, and she's calling me three times a day," he'll think. "But she's really a lesbian, so I don't have to worry that she's trying to glom onto me."

Bona fide dykes will rail, justifiably, at this strategy. But obviously you're not hanging out with them, because if you were, you'd be busy loading your U-Haul. So let's make a deal, ladies: I won't tell the lesbians what you're doing, if you'll stop writing those angsty letters about how you can't get a boyfriend.

matisse@thestranger.com

 

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