The Lesser Sex

Throw a bunch of words in a hat, pull one out, and write a story using that word.

This week’s word: POINT


God, she is so hot. So hot and she’s sitting here, right here, in my office. If only I weren’t so responsible, didn’t have responsibility and I could just ram that ass, that’s be a good day. But responsible I am and so I sit here, as she goes on and on. What is she talking about anyways? The guys make jokes? Treat her bad? Hello? They’re guys, boys will be boys and you’re in a man’s world, don’t like it, you can leave. We’re here to make money, make deals, get shit done, not play dress up with dolls and makeup and whatever you have on. They only do it because you’re attractive, your big ass and sweet face. Surely you know, I mean you work here, how do you think you got this job? They make us hire girls so of course we hire pretty ones. And then they complain, about compliments? They’re compliments, just having fun. If you don’t like compliments from coworkers, well then…

Man she just keeps going, complain, complain, complain, on and on. Get to the point, if there even is one? Girls like this are why we have to do training, why we have all those videos. Girls like this, who shouldn’t even be here, in a man’s world and I have to go. If you’re gonna stay then at least take off your clothes, because it’s 5:30pm and I have to go. But like I said, I’m responsible, so I give my lip service, I’ll look into it, into boys being boys, having fun and joking around. That’s what we want, camaraderie in the workplace, friendship amongst employees, enjoying their time, getting things done. That’s how it is and that’s how it was and we don’t need girls messing it around. But yes, I’ll look into it because that’s my job, my responsibility, not today but tomorrow, for today is done.

Done because I must go, an appointment, a fitting, the Tux shop, me and my bride. Bet you didn’t see that coming, but yes I’m engaged, and I have an appointment with my bride. And her mom, and her sister, and the bridesmaids too. Joy, oh joy. I can see it now. Black or dark grey? How does it look? Will it match the walls? How will it look with me twirling around? Been like this all year, wedding this, wedding that and I’m just the meat. Standing there at the altar, my sole job to say “I do” as the women have the time of their lives, ogling and cooing and orgasming over every detail, the dress and the vases, the flowers and invitations. The men looking ridiculous in their flowered up tuxes, just one but one is enough. They’re so strapping, so handsome and cute, that’s what the girls say as they gossip and joke, whatever they do.

But that’s okay because I know, girls will be girls and how else should it be? You enter their world and expect them to change? For you? Stop their fun just so you can feel better? Ridiculous. I knew what I was getting into, the day I proposed, so what should I expect? That they’d change for me? End their fun and joy and girliness? Pack their estrogen in a jar and only let out as much as I approve? I don’t think so, things don’t work that way. I’m in a woman’s world, a woman’s world where girls will be girls, where the important things are cakes and flowers and dresses galore. Where guys are whatever, to be looked at or looked over, to be forgotten or enjoyed, whatever they want, in this woman’s world.

Yes that’s me, the world I’m in, and if I don’t like it I shouldn’t have applied. Like the chick with the ass, in a man’s world, where she applied. Maybe she doesn’t know? Doesn’t know but she should, I know how weddings work, she should know the working world. Her big ass and pretty face, how’s she think she got the job? My fiancee matching colors, salmon and peach, pink and green. But it must match the dresses because that’s so important. Like the girl with the ass, it’s all so important, so dramatic, so stupid. Their designs, her complaints, can’t even joke because you might hurt her feelings. Yes, it’s all so dumb and we have to deal with it all day. All day every day, the lesser sex, and we have to deal with them, all the time, all of our lives. All day every day, yes they clearly are the lesser sex.

This story is part of a semi-weekly series based on a writing exercise, The Word.


About Gabriel Bruskoff
I make movies! See for more information.

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