Will we shove off the unwanted kiss, even welcome the freezing of the atmosphere that results? And I’m not even figuring in the loss of jobs, promotions, opportunities… Will we withstand complaints that we have no sense of humor? Will we endure the boyfriend’s frown when we say his joke isn’t funny? We’ve all done this, not condoning rape or violent physical assault but accepting the deep-rooted, widespread attitude that allows and encourages this behavior. I was shocked but still fond of this man. To my dismay, she replied that his behavior with women was so out of control he’d been advised to wear his pants backwards. I’ve encouraged husbands’ and boyfriends’ objectionable behavior by smiling or ignoring-”turning the other cheek.”Ī dream the other night brought this realization painfully into consciousness: I was asking a woman friend whether a man we both liked was ever “inappropriate with women.” How often have I pretended to be a “playgirl,” a “good sport” (“staffable” in today’s Hollywood parlance), who rolls with the punches, laughs at sexist jokes, ignores innuendos, and engages in vicious gossip about other women? Reflecting on this story in today’s climate I began to examine my behavior, as we all must, to prepare for the fearful backlash already building that will sweep some women from the field. Our desire to be liked and loved is passionate, unequivocal, and it makes us vulnerable to every rejection. Maybe a mild protest or an attempt to avoid seeing or even a thought that she had somehow brought this behavior on herself: too short skirt? Too tight jeans? And she would have retreated from the park in a state of emotional collapse, vowing never to go there again. I was surprised that the magazine accepted it because it was about a young woman with her baby in a big city park counterattacking a man who exposes himself-counterattacking with curses and screams that send him running.Ī “likeable” young woman would never have been that loud. Hard to imagine now.īut back to Playgirl and my story. This was on the edge of an era when short story writers like John Updike and John Cheever could support a family off the money magazines paid for their short fiction. I was surprised when it was accepted, and even more surprised when I was paid a fair wage for my work-something like five hundred dollars ( roughly $2500 today).
It seems strange now that the story I sold-” Girl Alone“-would not have been published anywhere else at that time. It’s now aimed at gay and bisexual men with lots of naked male photos and ads for on-line sex. It still exists, although you’ve probably never seen it or heard of it. For a while, the magazine was an attempt to offer a jazzier version of Ms. I sold a story once to a magazine called Playgirl. Playgirl magazine: May, 1974 – “Girl Alone” began on page 109.
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