Midsommar

How lucky was she to have a boyfriend so cool and so confident that he didn’t care what the dullards around him might think, who had such a body that looked good in whatever he wore, and who wasn’t afraid to show it off now and then?

So, to hell with Shakespeare in the Park, and to hell with everyone staring as he picked his way down the crowded hillside. But most of all, to hell with her having to explain all the time why her boyfriend was wearing a skirt.
     “It’s not a skirt,” she sneered. “It’s a sarong.”

Inspired by Lifelong Pals. Image by Bing.

Lifelong Pals

A band of rogues, were they, everything a ribald brag or pun-ish diss. Fact or fiction, it mattered not. Lewd mockery and exaggeration were their tools of discourse. This, they would always be: lusty, with no time for foolish love. They’d never waste time on feelings.

       They married, divorced, retired. Eventually they did discuss feelings—in their knees, backs and hips, which hurt. Harkening back to carnal conquests, Mercutio deemed these “war wounds.” Over beers, they gabbed about their ailments, though never about ED or male pattern baldness. It went entirely unremarked that Benvolio had an impressive set of man-breasts.

Inspired by Let’s Not Talk. Image from Baz Lurhman’s 1996 film, Romeo + Juliet, Act 2 Scene 4.

Like, I’m Going To Tell You

Once, when I worked at a hospital Charitable Foundation drafting fundraising reports with impossible deadlines, I found in the break room a box of buttons left there by HR. It was an employee wellness initiative. On each button was a different mood statement: “Grateful,” “Grumpy,” “I need a hug.” We were to pin on a button to share how we felt that day. I laughed, eyeing the one that said “Overwhelmed.” No one wore any of the buttons and a month later when I asked to work remotely so I could take care of my ailing mother, they let me go.

Inspired by Let’s Not Talk. Image based on a blank button by PhotoStockImage.

Let’s Not Talk

My workplace wants to start a dialogue about menopause. Why? Purportedly because we need to de-stigmatize it. For fuck’s sake it’s not an EDI issue. I get it on one hand, but do I really want to talk about menopause and my vagina at work? Not particularly. Nor do I want my male colleagues evaluating my thermodynamics at the office or worse, thinking there is a cohort of us running around with brain fog unable to perform. Should we next talk about andropause and shrivelling penises? I can see the headline, TSE crashes in the wake of shrinking confidence.

Inspired by Pricks and Stones. Image by Marysol Ra.

Because it Might be his Nickname.

If you’ve even heard of Nelson Algren, it’s likely because of his Three Rules of Life: “Never play cards with a man called Doc. Never eat at a place called Mom’s. Never sleep with a woman whose troubles are worse than your own.”

I can certainly understand—if not relate to—One and Three, but I’d like everyone to know that Mom’s Restaurant in Midland was one of the high points of my last visit to cottage country.
     Still, having invalidated Rule Two, allow me to humbly offer a replacement: “Never sit for a shave from a barber named Nick.”

Inspired by Pricks and Stones. Photo by the author.