When it comes to future happiness, I'm a reasonable woman. I don't demand a great deal of wealth-enough to afford an apartment in Manhattan without having to hold a job would be fine. I don't want children; I'd rather spend my money amassing a collection of designer shoes that would make Imelda weep. On the social front, I desire only the prestige and connections necessary to sustain an addiction to prescription painkillers.
In short, all I want is to be Karen on \Will & Grace.""
However, considering the current state of societal affairs, this design is in jeopardy.
Indeed, gone are the days when it was acceptable, even encouraged to marry for money. Thanks to decades of ardent campaigning on the part of our nation's feminists, ladies, we are now expected to embark on a journey wrought with income inequalities and glass ceilings and make something of our lives.
Even if we do manage to snag rich husbands, be it through simple charm or mind-altering chemicals, according to the daytime oracle of our generation, Dr. Phil, we're supposed to keep our finances separate, thereby remaining at the gift-giving mercy of our spouses for procurement of pricey accessories.
Yes, with prospects as they are, I do believe it's time to let go of this wholly unattainable dream and focus on another: if I can't be Karen, I want to be Jack.
That's right, I'm sick of being a woman-I want to be a gay man.
Lest you think me capricious, I've thought a lot about this. In this sphere of being, I would get all the benefits of being male in this culture-higher wages, less emphasis on appearance, access to decent tables at the Olive Garden-without having to part company with mocha lattes or ""Trading Spaces.""
As an easily amused individual with a penchant for self-deprecating humor, as a gay man, I would have a menagerie of new material at my disposal. Everything remotely humorous that happens to a gay man seems that much more so by simple virtue of it happening to a gay man. First-rate comedians such as David Sedaris have built lucrative careers upon this very notion. For instance, if I wrote about how as a child I dressed my cat in women's clothing and demanded to be called ""Sweet Doggie,"" at best I'd be pitied. If I were a gay man, however, it would be comic gold.
As an added bonus, I would experience no societal or familial pressure to marry or procreate. Depending on the political climate where I choose to live, both might even be prohibited by state law. Also, if I were a gay man in addition to an atheist, those pesky religious missionaries might finally deem me a lost cause and allow me to blaspheme in peace.
And, hell, I'm not getting anywhere in my search for good-looking men with the ability to differentiate between sage and moss green in my current incarnation as a straight woman-why not try the other end of the spectrum?
While this mode of existence would certainly have its share of problems-more discrimination, more limited fashion options, having something in common with Christopher Lowell-I think it would be worth it.
Holly Noe's column runs each Friday. If you're an angry feminist looking to unload a tirade of reactionary jargon, she can be reached at flamingpurvis@yahoo.com.
