Males, Females and Single Mothers in two acts:

Act one: "Why Are Girls Such Bitches Sometimes?"

It would appear that the proprietors of the candy store next to where I work exclusively employees females. Perhaps only females are interested in candy sales and women and teenaged girls are the only applicants. Whichever is the case, I have not seen a male working at this particular candy store in the past five months I have worked within its vicinity. I use their bathroom with great frequency and I often find myself involved in conversations highlighting topics atypical outside of a grouping of women and girls.

Today, I walked through a conversation on my way to the bathroom I have both heard and been a part of before in many different settings. Each time was as unpleasant as it was unnecessary. Intellectual conclusions are rarely pursued in interchanges such as these. Often pursued is an anecdote and a chuckle and I've learned to deliver when called upon to do so.

"And he said, 'you always want to talk right before we go to sleep,' and I say, 'but you don't want to talk all day.'"

The woman who was listening to this ventilation looked at me, smiled, and jokingly asked, "what is it with guys?" as if I have any more perspective into the twisted world of the male id than they do. This is how it starts every time.

"I don't know, man." I declare. I address everyone, regardless of sex, man. This is a bad habit. I address every group as "guys". An example: "Sorry guys, but I want no part of this conversation."

On a minimal scale, I usually play along. To their satisfaction, I offer, "'Men' are unreachable," I then continue, "and women are impossible."

"We're not impossible."

Exactly.

"I often find myself involved in conversations highlighting topics atypical outside of a grouping of women and girls." This statement, made seven paragraphs before this one is inaccurate. Exchanges that have themes as similar as the one transcribed above are common, but unfamiliar in appearance. Among most males (the more ignorant of the two sexes), the above conversation might read like this:

"I don't know why she's being such a bitch."

"I don't either. She's really being a bitch."

"Why are girls such bitches sometimes?"

How the penis clad were endowed with such an admirable I will never know.

Act Two: "She's Looking For Another Daddy and She'll Take Anything She Can Get."

Last week, a decent man was fired from one of the jewelry stores in the mall. I him and I know he is a good man. His personality is great and his friendship is true. Unfortunately, from an abundance of credible sources, his managerial skills have been described as worse than my own and those for who he works seem to have figured that out.

A few months ago, my former roommate and I went out to eat where we drank beer and discussed relationships.

"Remember when that woman with whom you worked wanted to..." Of course he remembered. It happened to him and it was related to sex. We were lucky to be joined by the aforementioned manager, fired not even a week ago. We continued talking about relationships and he told us stories about when he was in college, fifteen years ago. He described one girl after another, and his relationships with them. Some were described as sordid while others sounded fun.

Again, I brought up my roommate's story. When he worked at a supermarket a few years ago, his coworker, a mother of three, proposed he and her have an extramarital relationship. She had discussed it with her husband, who claimed the idea was acceptable, and she wanted to have sex with him. I remember how intense this was to learn about. Living in a distorted, self-selected oblivion of sexuality, I live vicariously through my friends and neighbors.

I asked him if he was still in contact with the former coworker. He told me that he saw her on the occasion. She and her husband are divorced and she still works at the supermarket.

Single mothers," pondered the former jewelry store manager. He thought for a second, took a gulp of beer and finally offered "Wear protection. One thing to remember when dealing with a single mother is the importance of protection. She's looking for another daddy and she'll take anything she can get."

How dare the White Stripes declare romance is dead?

end

"'Girls?' the sergeant had said. 'They're all the same in the dark. Who gives a shit about girls; you ought to see my gun collection!' Some sergeant, that one, after the accident, awkwardly lumpy in his black body bag, shipped home in a wooden overcoat, like 55,000 others."

The Monkey Wrench Gang, Edward Abbey