When I was a little kid, my teenage sister explained to me that she had become a woman. This meant that for one week out of the month, I had better do exactly what she tells me. I would never know exactly when that week would be, so for my sake, she lovingly suggested I play it safe and stay out of her way. Because during that week, she would be going through a natural change that happens to all grown adult women and she wouldn’t be able to control her rage.
So, largely, I did what my older sister told me, because it was obvious that she was a werewolf.
“How would you feel if a man’s penis molted once a month and we had to apply copious amounts of salve to our raw member?”
Men don’t really think about menstruation, because we don’t have to think about menstruation. We don’t have uteruses. Male genitals are embarrassingly simple. Our junk is a Speak N’ Spell. A woman’s private parts are more like an iPad. Once, in this column, I wondered what it would be like to have a ladyflower for a day. If only to get some answers.
It is difficult to empathize with biological functions that are radically different to your own. How would you feel if a man’s penis molted once a month and we had to apply copious amounts of salve to our raw member? You’d try to be understanding as best you could, but you wouldn’t really understand. But I bet you’d respect our space and our strange lizard wangs. Men don’t think about menstruation. But we know the best way how to deal with it: with a healthy amount of respect.
That respect is, partly, born of awe. I am in awe of your baby space pod. Maybe I have womb envy? I’m serious when I write that my sperm bells are low-tech compared to your belly ducts. But then again, I am genuinely baffled and amazed by the human body in general. I mean, even the simplest bodily functions. What’s the deal with tears? I call them face rain. Bellybuttons are crumb pockets. Fingernails? Mega-hair.
I am sure there are men out there who are grossed out by their woman’s period, which, in many ways, is nature’s way of saying “pulling out worked … this time!” These men think menstruation is dirty, and that by extension, women are dirty. As if women were cursed by God for the crimes of Eve, who just wanted to know what was up. When, in fact, I’m fairly sure that the Almighty was so pleased with the creation of the female of the species, an upgrade on the beta test male, that the Almighty might have invented menstruation as a minor handicap in order to prevent the inevitable conquest of men by a few hundred thousand years.