Vaginas, they’re not just for women anymore

How do you spell relief? Write me
I just wrapped up a three-day run of The Vagina Monologues. It was wildly successful, and almost everyone involved had a great time. Of course, there were the few guys who didn’t quite understand the program and thought they were at a live interactive night that fell between The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Centerfolds. Though not as many as rugby, theater does have its own rules: 1. You cannot show up late and expect to be let in. If a show starts at 7:00, then a 7:15 arrival means staring at the sidewalk till intermission. 2. Yelling out clever lines at the actors is an immediate ejection.

For those of you who missed the vulva on this one, the play is written by a woman. It is to be performed by women to a mostly female audience. Hence you can somewhat understand how many males in town were baffled by the whole affair. “What’s the play about,” was a typical question. “If you know the title you have a pretty good idea on the content,” was one of my patented retorts. One male inquiry I heard repeated was, “Do they show it?”

Now ladies, you have to understand my half of the population. We’re mostly good boys, but when the word “vagina” comes up we all fall apart. Which is why I tried to get dudes I knew to come to the show in the first place. Even some of my more “liberal” guy friends didn’t understand the need to see the show. “Why would I want to hear women talking about their vaginas?” “Because,” I began, “isn’t that all we have ever wanted? All those times we’ve banged our head against the wall, bemoaning that we didn’t understand women. Didn’t all we ever really want was one of them to open up to us and talk about their vaginas, from their point of view?” “And besides that,” I continued, “married men gain immediate brownie points when attending (be the one to suggest it next year!), single guys should be in heaven (surrounded by beautiful women all talking about vaginas), and hell, the play is funny, deep and cool.”

I was thinking of starting a play called The Penis Monologues. It would be a short play, 15 minutes long, then a half-hour break, then another 15 minutes, a quick nap and then we would all go out for snacks at Jack’s. But I figured if you want to hear guys talk about their penises, you just have to put on any rap album. And I’m out.