LIFE WITHOUT OVARIES

I’m just one of those guys who is constantly surrounded by ladies. All my close friends are female, all my role models are female and most of my favourite things are always being called women’s domain. Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour even brought me to tears today. And you know what? NO SHAME HERE! Women are amazing, obviously. The thing is, it can be difficult to level myself with my female friends when my vagina doesn’t even bleed every month. My nose does (I should probably seek medical attention for that, except I think it’s kind of sexy and I don’t want it to stop just yet), but apart from that I’m relatively dry. Sucks, doesn’t it?

As much as I moan about a few aspects of my life, I can’t escape the fact that I’ll always be treated better in the workplace, I never get stomach cramps (not even a fucking twinge!) and I never had to skip swimming lessons because I was leaking (although that would have been more credible that the sick notes I wrote imitating my mum’s handwriting). Being #homo brings a whole load of difficulty to things, and I guess that closes a huge gap between us and women, but I can’t help wonder what it would feel like to be living under the constant threat of pregnancy and having men open doors for me just in case I broke my silly little arms in the arduous process of doing so.

And now, in my attempt to be completely at one with the female sex, I’ve probably committed a whole load of feminist faux pas and offended every womb this side of Shangri La. I can almost hear De Beauvoir rolling in her grave. Hey, I think I’ve even offended myself, but tonight I was totally feeling this. #yolo?

I tried long and hard to come up with a witty alteration of Amy Winehouse’s name for this drag act I saw in Amsterdam. I failed.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Apart from developing an expensive Carmex addiction, partying down at 1234 Shoreditch and cheating death on 5am expeditions to the Brick Lane Bagel Company (salt beef and mustard – try it), I’ve been constructing a pretty tragic raven outfit for Bestival and preparing to move back to university. Colourful stuff. I know you want to hear ALL about it but it’s really not as great as it sounds and I must dash. I think I’ll finish with a couple of Pina Bausch video clips, because I love her more every day and they make me feel like my more knowledgeable 14-year-old self, the guy who spent most of his time knee deep in performance art, Bjork and David Lynch and not listening to Kpdatruth remixes.

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