‘The other advantage to being a man, is the fact that I don’t need to take off my work belt when I go for a piss’ said the cute guy from special effects, as he tugged on his radio holster to emphasise his point.
I couldn’t disagree: our work belts are cumbersome, heavy and especially inconvenient when needing the loo. A well-practiced balancing act is required if you need to sit down on the toilet, in order to not drop your walkie-talkie in it. I nodded at him and shrugged in agreement: it was true – being a woman on set is a disadvantage.
‘And’ he continued, ‘we don’t get periods or childbirth or anything like that, so really, you’ve got the bad end of the stick being a woman’. He looked at me triumphantly and I suppressed my desire to hit him. Hard.
I pondered for a moment. Annoyingly, what he said about being female was valid; not to mention the fact that women are also paid less, treated with disrespect and suffer regular harassment on film sets.
Then it occurred to me: one quality to being female that beats anything men have; one skill that could make men beg and plead to be a woman just for one day, so that they might experience it.
‘Well’, I said, fixing him with a steady gaze, ‘there is one thing where women have the advantage. And nothing you have comes close to that’.
He stared at me, a confused look appearing on his face. ‘What’s that then?’
‘Two words. One of them is multiple’.
‘If you have to ask, then clearly you are missing out’ I said, flatly.
He got what I was insinuating and then glared at me. ‘Well, I’ve got two words for you too’
‘Oh yeah? Which two?’ I replied, and expected him to say ‘fuck you’.
He looked at me jubilantly. ‘Every time’. He shot me a sarcastic grin.
I burst out laughing.
‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded. ‘You’re the one missing out; at least men come every time’
I couldn’t help but utter, ‘if it’s only the once, then it’s definitely you who’s missing out, my dear’.
I carried on laughing as I walked away, him staring at me even more confused.
For the rest of the day I had a smile on my face, thinking that if he knew just how many times I normally climax during sex, he would be eating his words.
As well as possibly eating something else – but he’s definitely blown his chance for that now.