Rock Paper Scissors. It will make you or rape you. Me and my fiance tend to resolve a lot of our split decisions with a simple game of Roshambo. “Who’s car should we take?” “What restaurant should we eat at?” “Should we stay for another drink or go home and go to bed?” Simple conflict resolution. Take my advise people: Don’t wager on a game of Roshambo and, if you do, be prepared to face the consequences.
About a month ago, my fiance and I were on a nice walk on the Burke-Gilman Trail by a canal in the Fremont district of Seattle. We were discussing the fact that I seem to be subjected to these cheesy Sandra Bullock / Jennifer Aniston, wedding and love story “chick flicks” more and more but that I can’t get her to watch any ass-kicking/horror “man movies“. I’d had enough. I swear to god men, if you don’t balance your masculine and feminine entertainment, you will start to menstruate every month. You might be telling yourself, “Whatever man! I’m no bitch!” but, when you find yourself snuggled up on the couch with a bottle of wine and a chocolate bar watching Project Runway, you’re beginning the transformation. Go to the corner store, buy a couple of 40oz high gravity malt liquors, get loaded, and beat the shit out of something fast!
So, we decide to make a fair wager. If I win, she has to see a horror movie and, if she wins, I have to go with her to see Sex and the City. Well my friend, I wouldn’t be writing this article if I had won, so I’m in the position of settling up with a Sex and the City evening of magic and wonder.
The evening begins in the upper middle class neighborhood of Wallingford. I take her to the Wallingford Pizza House on 45th which, by the way, is an amazing place to eat if you ever get the chance. It’s not too expensive and the food and drink selection is wonderful. Anyway, I make it a point to order a caraf of burgundy wine in hopes of easing the increasing tension in my neck. We enjoy our sensational upside down pizza bowls and I engage in conversation as long as I possibly can so that I don’t have to stand in line too long at the theater.
When we the left the resaurant, I had a buzz that motivated me down the street to the Guild Theater where the film was playing. As we walked up I noticed the groups of woman (NO MEN!) crowding around the ticket booth. In hesitation, I continued walking and went right past the theater and on to a sports bar a couple of blocks down the street. I needed a cigarette and they had a little smoking section out front of the establishment. I usually need a smoke after a caraf of wine or when I’m avoiding something anyway. I smoke fast, walk back to the theater and, by that point, my mindset is, “Alright fuck it, let’s rock this bitch!” My fiancee is rubbing my shoulders, very aware of the awkwardness that I’m experiencing. She says, “Ok, I’ll see one of your movies next time“.
When we finally approach the ticket booth, it is occupied by two men, of course. I buck up and say in a half whisper, “Two for Sex and the City“. They look me up and down and give me a cheesy smile. I return their look with my own, “I will cut you” look and we preceed into the theater. I purchase my usual Swedish Fish and a small Sprite and we go find our seats.
I admit that I have not actually even seen one complete episode from the TV series, so I cannot really offer an accurate review of any sort. I can say, however, that there were way too many dick jokes for me to deal with. I guess I would say that it’s about high maintenance alcoholic women who date gay men with no opinions, get disappointed when their expectations are never met, and then complain to eachother while they’re smashed on cosmopolitans. That would pretty much cover it. I’ve never sat through a movie before where I continually hoped that I’d have to go to the bathroom. It was like going to Nordstroms and shopping with your mom for panties. To be honest, I’ve only been sent to the store to pick up tampons once and, even then, I ended up shoplifting them. I smuggled them out of the store in my pants, as if getting caught wouldn’t have been more embarrassing.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being in touch with your feminine side. We all have one and I think that it’s an essential part in truly knowing yourself. Believe it or not, these situations are not even strictly exclusive to heterosexuals because I know gay and lesbian couples who have the same issues with this shit. Only one gay man loves Sex and the City or one lesbian partner loves the show Charmed while the other one can’t fucking stand it. Honestly, I would go to a million of these movies for my woman because I love her but, if your women expect you to go see this type of shit all of the time, but never recognize the sacrifice that you’re making, then you are a bitch and you need to pull your balls out of your ass. I actually recommend that you do, at least occasionally, go to these type of events with your lady and do so by your own free will. She will, most likely, recognize that you’re making an effort for her and, when you get home, will return the favor by making you feel like a man again. She may, however, think that you will forget about the promise to see a film of your choosing, as she has. Bless her soul, because I’m cashing in on this one, but I’m waiting for something as equally detestable and nefarious, except on the other end of the spectrum (see also: Dead End, Hostel, Old Boy, The Hills Have Eyes, etc).
The term “Roshambo” has also been adopted to describe a game in which participants take turns kicking eachother in the testicles until one of them (the “loser”) can no longer stand.