On my way to see Magic Mike with my besties, all I could think was, are we the only ones rushing out to see this peep show... and how sexually frustrated does this make us?
Sexually frustrated enough to see it with a theater full of gawking teenagers. Wait, did I say teenagers? Because I meant 30-50-year-olds. Who are most likely just as sexually frustrated as I am! Phew, It seems we're not alone. Yep, the same women who tore through the 50 Shades saga only to experience the same bout of mild depression that I did were there whoopin' it up to a slightly wrinkly, over-tanned Matthew McConaughey (whose role was more comedic than erotic, but still, "all right, all right, all right") and that perfect specimen of well, everything, Channing Tatum.
We were all in the same boat. Going through some kind of mini midlife crisis that causes you to ogle firm pecs, wonder how long it's been since you had or could get a man like that and why your husband doesn't remotely resemble these book characters, movie stars or male review dancers. Oh, how we women suffer. And on that night, we all stared at these gorgeous, oiled up, hard-bodied men and we suffered together, in silence.
Did I say silence? Because I was shocked to find that many of the long-suffering ladies in the theater actually yelled at the screen as if we were at the club.
They can't hear you, I thought, as a woman directly to my left started clapping rhythmically during a strip tease scene. After woohoo-ing, oh yeah-ing and bow-chica-wow wow-ing numerous times, I turned to her to give her the "shush" eye, only to find she had a dollar bill between her teeth.
Which I took. "I'm gonna use this as a tip for my cocktails. There is a two-drink minimum, right?"
When I arrived home, my hubby asked if the flick was good, but I know what he really meant: "Was it good enough to translate into a fun night for me?" Which made me realize that I may be sexually frustrated, but you guys are SHAMELESS!
Can you imagine women hoping their men would enjoy some good ol' porn or go to a strip club on a guys night out, simply so that they would come home hot and bothered enough to want us?
Frankly, we hate even the thought of our men lusting for another women, let alone taking that misplaced amorousness out on us. Yet every hubby who babysat during mom's night out was hoping for some return on his investment.
We're wayyyy more evolved than that, you sick, sick perverted males. We simply want to read about and stare at men a couple years (or decades) younger who are barely dressed, writhing around, humping shiny floors and taking on submissives. We are suffering, can't you see that?
Whatever.
Well, shamelessness may work sometimes, but unfortunately for many of our hubbies, this movie had the opposite effect. While they were all, I'm gonna get some?, we were all, When was the last time YOU had abs? Did you really go out for wings tonight? Thank G-d you don't own assless pants.
Though I must admit, I've been thankful for that on more than one occasion.
PS: Honey, I love you -- even in your assless pants -- just not as much!
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