Every so often, Chick and Dick go on a field trip to help broaden their horizons in the world of love, sex, friendship and relationships. This weekend found them at Absolute Pleasure Production’s documentary-style play “The Vagina Monologues,” directed by Allison Curtis and featuring various female students telling stories from Eve Ensler’s Broadway hit about their vaginas.
Chick: This Chick admits that at first she was somewhat skeptical of the production – after all, how many stories could be told about vaginas? But after listening to vaginas being called “cunts,” “flowers,” “pink shells” and “basements,” I quickly realized these stories were about the emotional aspects of being a woman. The stories were about women of all races and ages, from women who had been beaten and raped to girls who had experienced their first fabulous sexual encounter. They were wives, cancer victims, lesbians, dominatrixes and (sexually) frustrated women, and overall. It was something that I recommend every girl should see, no matter how skeptical or conservative they are. There’s something very comforting in listening to women talk so liberally about themselves and about sex. I don’t recommend bringing a boyfriend or even a guy friend along – they would probably consider “The Vagina Monologues” to be far worse than any 24-hour chick-flick fest. Besides, how can they possibly relate to an “angry vagina” who is furious that wads of dried-up cotton are shoved up into her every few weeks? The perfect accessory for this kind of production, my fellow “pink shells,” is another girl, someone who you can munch chocolate with and blush and laugh with and be happy about being a girl, cramps and all, which is exactly how I felt when I left the play.
Dick: So Dick goes to “The Vagina Monologues.” First of all, there were not very many guys there. Most of the guys there were holding hands with a girl in a way that looked like if she let go, the guy would be out of there faster than you can say penis. The night started off with “hairy is beautiful,” and at that point, I knew there was going to be, shall we say, a difference of opinion. Then a girl came out and told a story about how she looked for her clitoris with a mirror in public. During the search, she started screaming, “it’s gone it’s gone, I’ve lost my clitoris!” Hallelujah, a woman who feels the way many guys do on so many drunk nights. That little button is harder to find than a feminist sense of humor. Then we got into actual facts, including the clitoris has twice as many nerves as the penis. One girl said, “who needs a handgun when you have a semi-automatic?” But it won’t do you much good if you can’t find the trigger. It’s all good and well that women came together to discuss this stuff, but really, is a vagina really that special that is gets a whole play? I understand penis envy, they are an amazing instrument/toy. I just wish that everyone walking in would admit that they were envious, it would have made the experience much more enjoyable for all of us.