Like the man said..Deja Vu, all over again.
I stood glumly outside the bowling alley, doing my best to scowl menacingly at the men who entered while handing feminist propaganda pamphlets to the occasional woman, wondering once more just what I was doing here.
Maybe if my ex hadn't accidently left those 8X10 glossies of his new girlfriend in various states of undress, or if he hadn't tried to convince me that our breaking up was all my fault for not being interested in wrestling and monster trucks..or if he hadn't sneaked out with the stereo that we had purchased together..or if Diane's timing hadn't been so good. (She had come in right after I had found the photos, sitting in the empty part of the bookcase that the stereo had once filled.) Maybe then I wouldn't have become entangled in yet another of Diane's ubiquitous causes.
WOMEN (Wipe Out Men, End the Nonsense) had seemed at that time to be the answer to everything wrong with my little corner of the world. After all, who caused more pain in a woman's life than a man? Wouldn't we all be happier without them? I admit, my first image of a horde of women dressed and armed like a SWAT team, (though strangely attractive at the time) did seem a bit too radical, even in my jilted state. But then Diane had explained "the plan" and it had all made so much sense. According to Diane, WOMEN would not fight man's brutishness with more of the same. They would use more subversive tactics, more subtle methods.
The plan seemed simple enough. WOMEN maintained that it was every female's duty to educate herself, work hard to be placed in the highest positions, and establish a network of "sisters" working for and around her. As the network grew some of these women and their assistants would be involved in underground research, in the areas of genetics research, psychological manipulation and subliminal suggestion. They would create tools to be used by female politicians and public figures. Through the use of these tools, men would eventually be forced outside the mainstream of the "power society," as women had been in the past, until one day, Voila! A new era of female domination would achieve realization.
During this time, sperm gathering would encouraged and rewarded, with samples being stored in a massive bank for our genetic posterity. Conception would be manipulated to produce only female children through artificial insemination, until one day, the last old man would fade quietly away, and our troubles would be over.
Okay..I'd bite. It was that or my ex's neck.
The group's guest speakers were dynamic, with flashing eyes and a "we shall overcome" manner that practically pulled confidence out of thin air. They stirred the soul with visions of Utopia, of Sisterhood..of cooperation at its most heightened level. I was so left breathless after the weaving of their verbal spells that I saw and heard nothing else around me. Until that fateful Saturday morning at the supermarket.
I was standing in front of the deli counter in an agony of indecision, when a deep voice whispered conspiratorially, "The honey ham is the best. Something about the combination of salt and sugar, I think."
I jumped, and turned to see who had spoken. There was only a broad chest at first. Very broad. As the man said "Tracks and tracks o' land." As I raised my eyes I registered wide shoulders; a lean, strong neck; an easy, comfortable grin and long dark hair. I might have survived my glimpse of this oh-so-attractive landscape, if it hadn't been for his eyes. They were dark and sensitive and full of humor..and they looked straight into mine, without flinching. My entire world seemed to shift, and every chemical in my body was fighting to be the first to send a high-fiving "Yes!" to my brain.
I suddenly realized I was staring, but before I could apologize, I was being paged by the guy behind the deli. "Hey lady! Can I help you, or what?"
"Umm..yes," I stammered, turning quickly. "Four pounds of honey ham, please."
The man raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, moving off to slice up my order. Too late, I realized what I had done. Four pounds?!? What was I going to do with four pounds of ham??
Those eyes were talking to me again. "Expecting company?"
"Err..no..not really." I answered, angrily slapping down a mental signal to "move just a little bit closer, please."
"Would you like some?" he inquired.
I am not in the habit of inviting strange men to my apartment, and it was almost a relief when all the warning bells and whistles in my brain began to drown out the hormones, but before I could open my mouth to issue a cold rebuff, he continued.
"I'll get the bread, and the cheese..and a bottle of the beverage of your choice. You take the cheese and the bread home and make sandwiches. I'll bring the tablecloth and glasses, and we'll meet by the bandshell in the park..say about five?"
We decided to meet at four. It would give us more daylight.
It was a beautiful afternoon. The sandwiches were large, and the sparkling cider was perfectly chilled. The park was filled with laughing children, strolling couples and the everpresent fitness fanatics. We talked for hours about the world, our doubts, our fears, the things we wished we could change..we shared everything. The weather was beautiful, the honey ham was delicious, his legs were long, tan and beautiful in white shorts, and I was in love.
The next day's meeting went badly for me. For the first time since joining, I noticed the dour, bitter expression of my compatriots, and I suddenly began listening to the conversations around me.
"They wouldn't let me into the pilot's group, and I know it's because I'm a woman!" (This from a woman with glasses that you could fry a small town through.)
"And if she thinks that I'm going to just stand by while she takes control of our sector, she's crazy. I'll have you know that just last week she was seen with a man! The woman's smile was viciously catty. "She claimed it was her brother, but do we really believe that?"
"Of course I filed a sexual harassment suit against him. Imagine! That little toad..asking if I wanted to go to lunch with him!"
I began to think about men and women, and the natural order of things, and of our differences, both mental and physical, that were meant to complement each other. I thought about children, and their fathers, and the great men of the world who had tried as hard as any woman to make the world a better place. It thought about the negating of an entire gender, based on the actions of only part of them, and the irony of becoming what we most fear, in order to "defeat" that same fearsome thing.
I picked up my pamphlets in a daze and followed Diane to the van, from which we were deposited at the bowling alley. Although I tried to keep my mind on "the cause," I kept flashing back to the conversation at the park. I compared his earnest, sensible view of the world to the one-sided babble I had been subjected to for the past two months. I thought of all we shared, and all that I did not share with my "sisters." All of a sudden, I had an irresistible urge for a honey ham sandwich. I dropped my pamphlets in a nearby trash bin and headed across the parking lot, to freedom.
Diane and another of the "sisters," a hard, determined young woman with a born militant's fervor, stared in astonishment, as I reached the sidewalk.
"Renii!" Diane yelled. "Where are you going?"
Before I could turn to answer, a small tan car pulled up to the sidewalk. HE was at the wheel, flashing his irrepressible grin.
"Need a lift?" he asked, leaning over to open the door.
I grinned back and climbed in, shutting the door firmly between myself and the approaching women.
"Well!" exclaimed Ms. Militant, in a huff, "I never!"
I smiled gaily back, and waved as we drove away, shouting, "Don't worry..If you're lucky..someday you will!"