I’ve been invited to a Thursday night pre-screening of La La Land. It’s a media thing where we’ve been promised huge buckets of popcorn, gigantic cookies, gift vouchers, make up and little sachets of perfume.
Best of all they say, the evening is just for women.
Oh dear sweet god help me but I could think of nothing worse.
I love women. I think you know that. I love my girlfriends, I love hanging out with them, shopping, eating and drinking and sometimes, I even like sleeping with them.
But fuckit I hate those occasions or functions, theatre premiers in particular, when you walk in and it’s all a bunch of women beautifully dressed with gorgeous hair, lovely frocks and lipstick, sexy shoes, wafts of perfume and just – ghosts.
Ghosts, because all the men are dead.
I’ve just come back from visiting my dad in his retirement home. He is surrounded by women. So many women. Some of them are beautiful. Some of them are spunky. They’re all pretty bright. Alert. Vivacious. Fun.
But mostly, they’re all very lonely.
Women are outliving men at a terrible rate, like by twenty years or something. And thank goodness they have each other and shoes and support and yeah yeah all that but still.
It terrifies me that one day there will be no more men. And it will be me wearing the kaftan and Jesus sandals, sitting around a bridge table.
Oh no not me playing bridge. My mother did that, my grandmother, my great great great great great great grandmother too.
Okay, I know I’m projecting.
And really I am just scared of landing up old and alone, in a home and GREY and oh god I don’t care, I am not going to see La La Land with a bunch of women.
I’ve turned down the invite.
I’ll see the movie another time. I don’t even mind buying my own ticket.
As long as there are a few men in the theatre.
Preferably on either side of me, next to me, in front of me and behind me.