I can’t sleep.
I had an epiphany about myself tonight and I am clearly over thinking it. This is a part of my character that, apparent to everyone (maybe?) but me, I was not aware of. Consciously.
So here it is. Quick and dirty. I don’t like women. Rather, I don’t like working with women. I don’t play well. Hey, you, get out of my sandbox. And quit kissing my brother like that.
Backing up, I have known for quite a while that large groups of women in any situation squig me out. Make me uncomfortable. It makes me tug at my shirt tails, say dumb things, eat with my elbows on the table and make an exit as quick as I possibly can. Imagine, if you will, me at a MaryKay party. A bridal shower. The women’s Christmas dinner at church. I know, right? Hard to construct that picture. Let’s just say, I turn into a man. Get me out of here so I can go back to watching football on the couch.
We had our first full dress run through of the opera tonight. My time to shine. This? Is why they bring me to town. I can man a crew like nobody’s business. Rehearsal went well. I’d like to think that it was because I had thought about what had to happen long and hard and I’m such a good communicator that everything went my way. That’s partially true. I thought about it for a while. I gave vague, stick figure drawings to the crew of what might be in my head and they ran with it and made it great. Well, almost all of them.
There are two members of the crew who did not hold up their end of my bargain. They got in my way. Practically trampled. They slowed us down. Irritated me. I didn’t have nice things to say to them or, much later at the bar, about them. I got a kick under the table because the one I was ranting about is the director’s pet and he’s really hard to keep happy. Had to do some backpedaling there.
The two crew members that I take issue with? Are both women. Can’t stand either one of them. For different reasons. So then, in a stream of consciousness, I say out loud (unaware that I was, in fact, speaking out loud), I just don’t work well with women.
My boss (also a longtime friend…male no less) looks me in the eye, laughing, and says “You are just now figuring that out?”
Is it true? Did you already know that? He nods and looks at me like I have three heads. How long have you known that?
“For as long as I’ve known you.” He is laughing his ass off that this point. I am embarassed.
And going through all the female working relationships that I have had in my adult life. I do well with costumes, wigs and makeup. I’m okay with stage managers but only when they are really good at what they do (as opposed to marginally good) and don’t get all up in my shit. But the rest of them? Not so much.
So then the question was posed (by the female SM who IS very good at what she does) “Don’t you want to further women in the industry? If you take issue with women on the stage, is it doing an unjustice to them?” And I know she was playing devil’s advocate but makes a valid point.
This is where I’m overthinking. I like being the only woman around. I take the mom/sister role very seriously here. Mother hen. Queen bee. Whatever. Just do what I tell you to do. And the men that I tend to work with are good with that. At least in this situation. I also make a fantastic assistant. Please don’t put me in charge but I will organize the big picture and I’m a quick learner, good with all kinds of people, flexible to new situations and a hell of a truck driver.
I like my role. I am very protective of my boys. I get their humor and can give it right back. I don’t deal in emotions. I’m not about apologizing or hugging. Deal with it and move on.
But it itches me that I got this old without knowing a *very* important part of my personality. Very itchy. Scratch it until it scabs over kind of itchy.