The Vagina Monologues

2/19/06

Personally, whether it be in idle conversation or during sex, I prefer the word "pussy." Two syllables instead of the ungainly three, a strong popping consonant at its head, slight lisp in the middle and a flirty, almost whimsical upwards "E" to finish her off. Yep; for my money you can't beat "pussy" when describing the holiest of holies. Vagina and cunt are words I reserve for being cleverly clinical or despicably vulgar, respectively. But pussy; well pussy is everyone's friend, and I like 'em in all shapes, sizes, smells and colors. However, last night "vagina" was all the rage; it's right there in the title.

I, probably like most stalwart, heterosexual men, figured The Vagina Monologues was a showcase of self-righteous, feminist, anti-cock propaganda. It takes a big man to admit when he's wrong. I am not a big man, but I was wrong. That makes twice in my lifetime thus far. (I also thought Steve Guttenberg would be around forever.)

My reason for going to see the show was due entirely to the fact that my friend Hanni (pictured at right; pretty hot, huh?) was in the MSU production, giving a wonderfully dynamic performance as a woman touting the virtues of hair versus bald vagina. (I don't discriminate; as long as it has an entrance I find the doormat inconsequential.) Hanni had a short part in the play which combines essays, candid interviews, and the treatment of women worldwide into what was a hilarious, sobering, depressing and amusing conglomeration of conversation about pussy. My only disappointment of the night came whenever I asked Hanni about the quite fetching redhead who had possibly the best delivery in the cast, (Gayle Cox-Moffet) who turned out to be married, goddamnit.

I tell you what might have been the best part of the whole affair, and that was the fact that it was just nice to be around a large group of people listening to, laughing at, and actually using adult language, especially since I spend forty hours a week inside an office where we're all supposed to pretend like we don't know the word "fuck" or "cum."

I enjoyed all of the different segments (maybe I was a little biased about the ones the attractive redhead was in, for obvious reasons) but my favorites were a savagely sad one and, conversely, the lightest one of the show. The former is called "My Vagina Was My Village," and is the tale of a young woman who was repeatedly raped and victimized by a group of six soldiers, though what specific location in which this occurred escapes me at the moment. Quite movingly portrayed by Doran Schmidt, I have to admit I got more than a little misty there near the end. The image of a gun barrel being inserted into her vagina and that of part of her vagina coming off in her hand due to the brutality of the act will not soon leave my mind. Sometimes I wish I didn't have such a vivid imagination.

The other, infinitely lighter but equally attention-grabbing piece was entitled "The Woman Who Loved To Make Vaginas Happy." How can you lose with a title like that? I thought; I too love to make vaginas happy, and lesbians are just yummy...well...some of them. In this story the woman, who was formerly an attorney and now makes her trade as a sex worker giving women orgasms, tells about how she loves to hear women moan. Fucking A, who doesn't? (Sometimes I like to listen to women's tennis.) The funniest part is where the woman, played by Megan Keathley, gives us examples of different kinds of moans. The "Triple Orgasm Moan" is particularly nice. There's nothing so singularly surreal about sitting next to your friends' parents, surrounded by a lesbian-heavy audience and getting an erection. Very strange.

Ninety percent of the profits from the show went to The Regional Girl's Shelter, which provides residential care for adolescent girls who have been abandoned, suffered abuse or neglect. Ten percent was given to the International Beneficiary, which is an organization fighting the abuse of women worldwide, past and present. The nice part about this is that aside from seeing a pretty fucking funny play about my favorite subject, I get the added benefit of feeling all warm and fuzzy about helping a good cause without actually doing anything other than handing over a sawbuck. Ah, armchair activism.

At any rate, ladies and gentlemen, if you do get an opportunity to watch this production in some incarnation or other, I highly recommend you take it. It's not often we all get to talk about pussy without being labeled a pervert...though to be fair, I am one.