This is not a test. Unless it is, and no one told me so I haven't revised, which means I'm going to fail. Thanks for that.
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Wednesday night and the women are missing

Please excuse thie camera phone photo, it is a less than great evidence gathering tool

Last night I met a friend in the city. We went to the pub, there were no women. The place was a women free zone. Old men occupied the seats.

We sat, discomforted by the male domination of our watering hole, and spoke about Subtext plans. A man came over. He asked ‘Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?’. It was clearly a private conversation, as generally two people engaged in and talking animatedly about something are not offering their company to all in sundry passing by.

This man, told that the conversation was indeed private, did not leave, but instead pretended to be a crab, perhaps this was some kind of ploy to appear endearing. It failed and he appeared more annoying.

We left the pub.

The next pub we entered was also full of men. There was one other woman in the building, who was sat in a corner with a man whom she appeared to be in a relationship with. All eyes fell on us as we entered, ordered our drinks and found a set.

I ask you, where are all the women on a Wednesday night? Are they watching the Chippendales? Are they at home ironing the men’s shirts and caring for the children? Are they watching ‘Lost’ and the hot hot cast?

Sex and the City steered me wrong. They’re certainly not out boozing it up with their mates, unless they’re me, I like a bit of mid-week boozing.

1 comment:

Chameleon said...

After all the hysteria concerning binge drinking in the press lately, you'd think the pubs would be full of legless ladettes! (I am writing a long-ish piece on this subject (103 pages so far, ahem!). When I was growing up in Scotland many pubs were explicitly out of bounds to women (such as The Athletic Arms, nicknamed Diggers in Edinburgh, which features in Ian Rankin's Rebus novels). Pubs were definitely a male haven with that sour sullenness of stale beer and misogyny. I would never have dreamed of mingling with the workmen in their Doc Martens during lunchbreaks. As a student I found the atmosphere in all but the most fellow undergraduate crammed venues (such as The Doctors in the capital) far too intimidating. All that cigarette smoke and the sideways glances of contempt or appraisal (eyes straying towards breasts or buttocks). I loathe the way men sidle up expectantly when you are obviously engaging in a private chat, thereby betraying their assumption that any women daring to set foot inside their "domain" is "up for it". I still feel uncomfortable entering pubs unless it is midday and I know I am going to eat. I have never gone partying of a Friday or Saturday evening and am unlikely to start now as a 40-year-old, let's face it ;) It seems that we have a lot of work to do still in claiming our right to relax in public spaces unmolested.