das experiment

So last night my friend (let’s call her The Kickboxer) and I are indulging in alcoholic substances – distilled 5 times through platinum Sobieski vodka, which, as one Icelander noted, is good enough for Bruce Willis – well then, it’s good enough for us. Good music (moloko, Florence and the Machine, Edward Sharpe), cookies, good talking. Another girl joins us (not without master persuasion skills in action) in a little while (let’s call her The WantToBiteMyNipples?) and the discussion fires up.

We talk about gender equality – the gentlemen dilemma, wife vs. career woman and that kind of stuff. We compare Spain and Lithuania. Not much is different in this sense; the struggle is evident wherever you go. The worst part is – we all agreed – that women who fight for equal rights are seen as fanatics, whereas men feel threatened and de-masculinized, and everything is thrown off balance. We talk about the blog, and suddenly the main objective that I from now on shall abide by religiously is vocalized: the core of our endless discussions, the impetus for this blog is a cry – STOP, for a second, and LISTEN… Listen to each other. What do men find scary or repulsive, or throwing them off balance? What fears do women have, what struggles do they have to overcome? It is no longer about gender – it is about each and every individual wanting to be heard and understood. Thank you, WantToBiteMyNipples? for helping me locate the target.

Enough with the serious. So, eventually we decide to head out, but we’re facing this whole resistance movement, which is called “Stay in the Mundus House on a Friday night and pretend that you are going to study”. In short it’s just a bunch of lazy asses. Only three of us are ready for the walking downtown challenge: The Kickboxer, me and an awesome dude (whom I shall call The Womanizer). We hit a bar called Herr Bartel’s and before I know it we are 500dkr poorer. But it was all worth it, and you’ll soon find out why.

The das experiment chapter. In bars, pubs, clubs I prefer to… how to put it… not pay attention to my surroundings. I either dance or converse with someone I know already and find interesting or amusing or both. However this time, in moments when The Kickboxer and The Womanizer would be involved in a conversation it would be difficult for me to chime in as it was noisy and just not worth the effort. So I did look around. And all I could see were hungry hungry men. So I learnt a new term from The Womanizer – if you act invitingly, you’re giving men the “hungry eyes”. So I flipped my hair and touched my neck and licked my lips (be sure every time I wanted either to start laughing hysterically or to puke, but it’s all in the name of science), and e v e r y s i n g l e time there was a man ready to leap. Some were hesitant and watched by my two highly entertained friends. Some were terrifyingly forward with questions like “have you ever kissed a black man? I can show you how to do it”. Muahahahaha. There should be a concluding sentence at this point, but please, I think you know what I’m thinking…

Around 4am we hit another bar, where das experiment took on a new pace. Now it was cap ou pas cap – challenge accepted or declined. My first challenge was to get 2 phone numbers from 2 Danish men of my choice in 5 minutes. I think it took me about 3 minutes. At that moment I remembered reading an article recently about human trafficking and organ thefts and I couldn’t help but think – women are always looking out for these kind of threats, I don’t remember giving out my phone number to someone I did not know. And all these men were just throwing their phone numbers at me, without even asking me why I needed them (since I would just walk up to them and be like: give me your phone number). Not a single one asked for an explanation – they were just too happy that I showed interest in their petty personas. Sad. And scary. I could’ve sold their organs out piece by piece.

We went on with the challenge, which led to The Kickboxer getting a free drink and The Womanizer stealing a lip gloss from an unsuspecting girl. Lastly, I had to involve a guy in a conversation with me for 2 minutes. The catch? His girlfriend standing right next to him. He ended up ignoring her completely and putting his hand on my shoulder. What a moron. One falafel, one shwarma, one kebab and a 40-minute walk later we were safe and sound at home, everyone in their beds alone (as far as I know).

Conclusions? I don’t even have any. My perceptions have changed quite a bit. And I can’t not warn men – really, if you enjoy your kidneys, take a little more interest in the reason a girl is hitting on you. And try to control your testosterone levels. Because otherwise, unfortunately, we control you.