Sunday, February 13, 2011

The unmentionable stereotype

So as I alluded to in my previous post, the girls (all of whom are yellow girls) spoke about penis length. Simply put, they said that all yellow guys were small and that yellow guys of our shade of yellow (i.e., ethnicity) were the smallest of all the Asians.

One yellow girl dated one--and only one--yellow guy, and his penis happened to be literally one inch long, erect. Based on this one--and only one--experience, she deduced that the entire Asian male population must be one inch in length erect, and has dated only non-Asian men since then. WTF?

I said to her point blank, "I would not judge an entire race's penis based on the penis of one guy." She could only acknowledge my opinion with an indifferent shrug.

Another yellow girl, however, noted that every yellow penis she has seen was one to two inches in length. WTF?

I have, ahem, dated non-yellow men. And believe me, there are indeed one-inchers outside the Asian race. There are also one-footers within the Asian race. Relegating Asian men to sexual stereotypes is akin to relegating Asian women to sexual stereotypes. If there is one Japanese nymphomaniac girl who has a gang-bang fetish, does this translate to all Asian women being nymphomaniacs who have gang-bang fetishes?

I don't know why I get so defensive over this conversation, seeing as my Fiance isn't the same shade of yellow I am. I have to admit though, it is not the first time a yellow gal has made those observations to me. Asian girls of various ethnicities, from East Asian to South Asian, and even non-Asian girls have made similar sexual stereotype-laden observations to me. A fair number of my yellow friends date only white guys in part because of the size difference. But also a fair number of them have dated/are married to other Asian guys.

So what does all this mean? I was clearly in the minority in the group. I knew that nothing I could say or argue would change the minds of these women because few things are more persuasive or damning than personal experience. As a yellow guy told me, stereotypes exist for a reason: they are based, in part, on truth.

Still, though. Yellow stereotypes get under my skin.

Out of the club

So went the "girls' night out." It was "okay," for the most part.

The thing was, I felt mostly left out.

A core group of the girls were single and chatted nonstop about boys, single life, and dating standards. I tried to chime in when I could, but because I am apparently no longer a card-carrying member of the Single Girls' Club, my opinions were largely disregarded.

Hello, I still remember what it was like to date. Doesn't that earn me some street cred? It's been a few years, but still!

It also didn't help that I wasn't as tight with some of the more vocal single girls. I suppose every group has that dynamic.

Anyhow, the topics covered included, among other things, male pattern baldness, height, race, chivalry, wealth, penis length, physical attractiveness, and social retardation. Only one of the girls actually posed a question to me, "So how's wedding planning?"

When one of the girls mentioned her sister was pregnant, I was the only one who exclaimed, "Oh my god, that's wonderful!" The other ladies looked at her with concerted indifference, as if she were reciting the weather forecast from two weeks ago.

So in the end, it was fine. But being the only girl with a ring on my finger that evening, I felt a bit...alienated. I suppose when one door opens, another door closes, and I can no longer partake in the excitement and glamor of modern single life. I can only sit in the periphery of a booth table at a bar and listen nostalgically to angst-ridden, inside-joke-laden stories of the single life I've already lived.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Um, maybe not

A girlfriend just informed us that she invited a few guys out to the bar tonight.

Um, I thought this was a girls' thing?

Also, she joked that a couple of the other single girls might be inviting their "male acquaintances." Once again, the opposite sex finds ways of infiltrating our free time.

Oh, and it gets better: one of the guys who is coming out tonight is someone I went on a few dates with a few years ago who was a really bad kisser. Oh and he might bring a "female friend" with him too.

Should be FUN! After discovering all these men were coming/invited tonight, I invited the Fiance along, but he declined. For some reason, he'd rather stay at home and watch TV rather than come out with a gaggle of girls and their random male connections. The fact that I briefly dated one of these dudes didn't even faze him.

Now, instead of a girls' night out, it's a girls-meeting-up-with-random-guys' night out.

So much for my grand notion of having my own golden girls.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Friday night

Tomorrow night is going to be a "girls' night out." We're watching a show, we're eating wings, and we're drinking 'til god knows when. It's been a while since I've had a girls' night out.

In the last several years, my social circle has predictably dwindled to my sig other. And now that marriage, children and a two-car garage are on the horizon, the prospect of going to a bar and ogling/turning down the advances of strange men doesn't sound as exciting to me as it did before.

Man, I'm old.

The other night, I was having a nice dinner with the Fiance, when I noticed a table across the room where three gray-haired ladies were enjoying their meals. I watched them banter, sip their red wine, and laugh hysterically. They seemed to transform into high school girls. It looked like the kind of friendship that had weathered decades of heartache, drama with the in-laws, teenage children, and mortgage payments.

I wondered to myself, am I going to have my own golden girls? Will I still be having a girls' night out in my sixties, except eating medium rare steak with red wine instead of wings with beer?

One can only hope. So, in spite of my newfound homebody-ness, I am going out. Not all out.

But out with the girls.

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Acceptance of props

I suspect that as a woman, I have a hard time accepting props. I read somewhere that when someone compliments you, you shouldn't argue with the complimenter. Just accept the compliment and say "Thank you."

Some examples:

Coworker says: "Wow, you did a great job writing that memo."

Instead of saying: "Oh, no, it was a really easy subject, so it didn't require that much effort or intelligence to begin with, plus I had a lot of help from ten other people."

One should say: "Thank you. I'm glad I could help out the team."

Friend says: "Oh my god, your new haircut looks amazing!"

Instead of saying, "Oh, no, it's a little lopsided, and it makes random wavy hair look even wavier, not to mention it shows how thin my hair is and emphasizes my big forehead."

One should say: "Thank you. I like it too!"

I got a lot better at accepting props with time. Once in a while, I'll get props that I don't think I deserve. So sometimes I literally have to stop and remind myself to say "Thank you."

By arguing with the complimenter, you are: (1) putting yourself down and making yourself look worse, and (2) calling the complimenter a liar. Sometimes my friends argue with me when I compliment them, and it frustrates me.

So when someone says you're awesome, it means you're awesome, damnit. Accept the props!
 
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