Living with the Gorillas

On Thanksgiving night I saw that if you live with the gorillas long enough, they forget you are a woman. I stayed until the end of the party in a lounge full of men. And I was fortune enough to witness the bickering alcohol brings. One old, serious veteran and one stupid young Fire Fighter got into it over the definition of terrorism. The veteran stormed out of the lounge. The Fire Fighter looked around for someone else to fight with and eventually left.

Soon after, a disagreement arose around the rules of Cut Throat . . . the pool game. Another man stormed out over the non-win-able argument. The other two had tense moments. "Ok. You won. Fine!"

It was fascinating.

Tonight, the smallest man among them, stormed in to overthrow the Stitch and Bitch, a gathering of women once a week that seem to, all at the same time, fascinate and terrorize the men on station. The interloper is also a Fire Fighter (can we see the theme?) whom I threw out of the lounge last week. We have the lounge reserved and he couldn't read, and we threw him and his movie out when it was time for Stitch and Bitch. Tonight? He and his cronies came trundling in to purposely disrupt us at 9:15. What a strong and capable man! I now quake in the light of his powerfulness!

What is it about a group of women that men can't stand?

What is it about men who embrace Emergency Response?

What is it about men and alcohol and arguments and stupid shit?

What fun . . . living with the gorillas. So educational.