It’s Okay…

… I’m in a relationship.

Warning in advance: I’m going to be making some fairly sweeping generalisations about gender stuff.  It comes with all the usual caveats, that generalisations are not people, people are not generalisations etc. etc. etc..  But it also comes from a generic pattern of personal observation, and while anecdotal evidence isn’t a great basis for a theory, let’s at least have a conversation about this one.

I know lots of blokes – mostly working in theatre – who are rubbish at taking a compliment.

And that’s fine.  I’m rubbish at taking compliments too, I’m British, it’s what we do.  But in the case of a lot of the men I talk to, there’s a very distinct before-and-after shift in how they handle a woman saying something kind or sincere.

“Hey, you did a great job on the desk tonight,” quoth I, and immediately, the man looks askance, maybe even frightened, and conversation immediately shifts into something awkward and uneven.  Unless…

“It’s okay,” I say, “I’m in a relationship.  By the way, you did a great job on the desk tonight.”

“Hey – thanks!  It was tough in places, but I think we nailed it by the end….”

Time and time again it crops up, across a surprising range of ages and professions.  Blokes in relationships tend to be a bit better, but that’s not guaranteed.  Familiarity erodes the problem – eventually – but unlike a woman meeting a woman, there’s an inherent suspicion in the first… far too long… of a conversation with too many I meet, that any kind word I may say, any genuine expression of sentiment, might Go Somewhere.

Am I missing something?  The inherent, annoying implication of all this is that whenever I open my mouth to say anything other than ‘oi, you, fetch me three more fresnels and a gobo holder, snappy about it’ what I’m actually saying is ‘wow, you’ve got legs, we should have sex.’  Sometimes – most of the time – no one even wants these to be the implied words.  Because I’m your boss, or your friend, or your colleague or some woman you met on the bus – I mean, sure, maybe sex is an appealing option but frankly, 90% of the time, it would be really awkward and way too much like hard work.  You know this; I know this.  So why the hell would anyone assume that’s what I’m saying?  Seriously – look at me.  I’m got stuff to do, people to see.  I’m a woman with my own priorities, what the hell do you think is going through my head?  Really?

But also no, it’s okay… I’m in a relationship.

I mean, it could still be that I’m sexually interested despite this – after all, I did just compliment you on your ability to judge the weight on a loaded double-purchase counterweight fly bar, I must be thinking about your naked body right now – but it’s probably okay, because somewhere in the shadows is some other male figure who has quite possibly Mastered Me With His Manly Strength.  I have been tamed.  I am no longer single woman (ergo: desperately in need of your sweet loving), at the thought of My Man I will restrain myself from my own rampant libido, and thus, when I give you a compliment, while there’s still an… oooh… 30% chance that it’s about sexy time, there’s at least a 70% probability that I just think you’re good at your job.  Or wearing a nice jumper.  Whatever.

I suspect that this swings the other way as well.  Women, to whom a man may say ‘you’re great at mixing artex’ and who perhaps hear ‘it’s sexy time!’  Sure – of course.  People are people and ingrained cultural stereotypes are ingrained cultural stereotypes for a reason.  I tend not to hear this, because I’m 5″11, scruffy and have low physical self-confidence, but hell, here enter the immortal words that haunt all of these conversations surface here: that’s just me.

We’re all a bit confused, frankly.  Men and women both.  Every part of the gender spectrum has a certain degree of skull-scratching to do.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, even stern professionalism, which permits itself not a shred of kindness or humanity in its demeanour, can lead to trouble.  In a number of venues where I’ve worked as a full-blown professional techie, men have flatly informed me that I am lesbian.  When I ask why they think this, the answer comes back… because I don’t seem to be interested in men.  You’re not flirty.  You’re not… you know… girly….

1.  Of course I’m not girly, I have a fit-up to do!  Let’s talk about the sociology of girly, anyway, let’s talk about the construction of gender…. or maybe let’s rig this VL1k and talk about it after, whatever, but don’t think I’m letting this slide!

2.  And of course I’m not bloody interested in men – specifically, YOU men, YOU who made this judgement!  You are my colleagues, you are people I have to work with every day, and even if you weren’t, you, and you, and YOU especially, you who assume that if a woman isn’t interested in YOUR body must have no interest in the gender as a whole, you are not someone I wanna sleep with!  Christ almighty, if I wasn’t lesbian before, I’d be very much inclined to try it now, it just seems so much easier!

And yes, of course, yes, there are millions of men out there who don’t need to hear that I’m in a relationship, that I’ve been ‘claimed’ in order to have a conversation with me.  Millions of men.  And there are millions of women for whom the words ‘I love your shoes’ are of course, ‘wow you’ve got legs, we should totally…?’ and that’s fine.  Feminism is nothing if not the freedom of men and women both to choose their own identity and sexuality, hurrah and huzzah and cake all round!

But my god, too often – just too often – having a simple conversation between male and female, in a theatre or a venue, in a meeting or at some sort of social event – just saying something honest, or something kind, becomes an awkward rigmarole.  Right up to those magic words – ‘it’s okay, I’m in a relationship’, at which point, phew, we can all relax a little, right?

Wrong.  Very, very wrong, world.  Very wrong in so many very many ways.

So yeah.  Society.  We can do better, right?