The Double Standard

I was horsing around with some friends this weekend, and we of course ended up talking about sex.  Is there any conversation that doesn’t end up that way?  Anyway, war stories were being passed around and I, forgetting that we were in mixed company, brought up a story about an unfortunate incident that involved a Lincoln Town Car, too much Labatt, and an unfortunately placed Pink Lemonade Jolly Rancher (do they still make those anymore?  Those were the best.).  It wasn’t particularly interesting or even titillating story.  Mostly, I just wanted to talk about the candy.  It was always my favorite and you can’t find it them anywhere anymore.  It’s all watermelon and gross cherry.  But I digress.  

The conversation stopped. 

Shocked, I looked around for support, and finding none, asked the obvious question.  My story was no dirtier than anyone else’s – the only difference between my story and anyone else’s was that everyone else was male, and I was female.  So what was the problem, guys?  And I was looked square in the face and told,

“Well, Kati, really, you’re a girl.  You shouldn’t be telling stories like that.”

“But you just did.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a guy.  There’s a double standard.”

Um, what?  I sit here listening to some of the most offensive stuff I’ve ever heard, and the mere suggestion of my involvement in something slightly untoward turns everyone into the Prude Police.  So I fake apologized and sat quietly, waiting until the conversation turned to something I was allowed to contribute to.  Well, first it was politics (pass), then football (I don’t understand football.  I just don’t.  People have tried, in vain, to teach me the rules and the point, but I just don’t get it.), then something else I didn’t care about.  So I had some time to think about what they said to me. 

I mean, of course double standards exist between guys and girls.  I try to use these to my full advantage on a daily basis to obtain free items.  But what I hadn’t thought about was how deeply this goes beyond the typical stuff: guys making more money (fine, just spend the difference on presents for me) and girls being super emotional (again, awesome, I’ll cry in front of my male boss and I own him for life – no guy wants to deal with that).  It also exists when it comes to sex – more specifically, which one of us is winning?

Everyone knows that talking about past sexual experiences too soon is a big no-no.  I mean, eventually it will probably come up in conversation if you’re with someone long enough, as you tend to find out history as time goes by.  But a big difference between guys and girls is that while girls are insecure about their appearance and whether or not people like them, guys are insecure about their penis.  Tell your girlfriend that your ex wore a size two, she’ll obsess for days.  Tell her that your ex had a big vagina, she’ll be mildly interested, but not really care.  If your girlfriend tells you that her ex was really kind to the elderly, you won’t even acknowledge that she said it because you don’t care.  But if your girlfriend tells you that her ex was huge, you’re going to get mad.  You know you are, because you feel emasculated.  And unwittingly, I had emasculated the group a little bit.  I was relaying an experience that they had not had, and as a result, I needed to stop talking about it.  And probably bake them some cookies or do their laundry or something.

So what’s the moral of the story?  If you are a girl, please stick to stories that don’t involve you and sex.  If you are a guy, don’t worry about it.  Kind of crappy, but I guess that’s the way it is.  And it’s not all bad; I mean, if I keep things to myself, I’ll probably end up with some Pink Lemonade Jolly Ranchers as a reward, right (hint, hint)?