by T Philly Loyd 

I’m proud to say: I am now officially a member of the Me Too movement. I know: I’m a man; but men can be members too. It’s not gender that determines eligibility; it’s compassion, consideration, kindness, understanding, and of course, crushing guilt.

I used to be a poon hound. I’m not proud of it, but one thing the Me Too movement has taught me: don’t hide behind your past. ERC. Expose it. Repent it. Correct it. I have.

I used to go to bars and hunt down women like so many white tail deer. Treat them like sexual prey. No more. I was wrong. Have I said it enough? You can never say it enough.

So there I was at the Walla Walla Lounge last Saturday night, the same spot where for years I used to sit lusting over women as objects of my perverted male desire. Not anymore.

Instead of ogling the lovely ladies this evening, I decided to take yet another tact. It was my first night out since my awakening.

Sure, I still love the ladies. I didn’t go to the other side. Me Too is not about ignoring women. It’s not about shutting yourself off from your feelings. If anything, it’s about getting more in touch with your feelings. It’s about treating women with the respect they deserve.

So anyway, there I was at the Walla Walla with my new understanding, just having a few drinks and minding my own business, when a lovely lady comes up to my table. Sorry. I meant to say, intelligent woman. How did I know she was intelligent? Aren’t all women smarter than men? See, I’m getting it now. And anyway, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

She asks if she can sit down next to me and I tell her, “Of course.”

She introduces herself and we shake hands. Like equals. EQUALS.

She tells me her name is Barbara and I notice she’s wearing black. I’m not making any kind of grand statement, I just noticed she was wearing black, that’s all. She looked good in black. I mean, intelligent. Sorry.

She tells me she’s a biophysicist and from the very beginning I’m impressed. Not that it matters what I think, but I have to admit: for the very first time I am actually listening to what a woman has to say. Why didn’t I do this a long time ago?

Then she starts talking politics, world affairs, even sports. Sports! Turns out she’s a huge Dodgers fan. Me too.

She loves movies, too. Old movies. The good stuff: Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, Gone with Wind. Me too.

She loves music. Classic rock like the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, and Jimi Hendrix. Me too.

Wow! I was starting to realize how much I’d been missing all these years. It was like I was born again. If religious nuts can be born again, then why not me? Why not me too?

And then, just as things were going so well, I had to go and open my big mouth. I always have to go and open my big mouth. I’m a horrible salesman.

“You know,” I told her, “I have to admit: I used to be somewhat of a male chauvinist.”

“Is that so?” she said.

“Regretfully, Yes,” I said.

“And what changed?”

“I woke up. I opened my eyes and saw there was so much more to women than just chasing them around.”

“I see,” she said. “Me Too?”

“Me Too,” I said

Damn she was smart. She knew exactly where I was coming from.

“I used to come here night after night with just one thing in mind,” I told her.

“And what’s that?” she said.

“Trying to get women to come home with me.”

“And now?”

“Now, my eyes have been opened and I have seen the glory. Now, I realize there’s so much more to women than just lusting after them. Now, I understand that women are to be respected, not treated like sexual objects.”

“Me Too?” she said.

“Me Too.” I said.

“Now, I sit and listen to what women have to say. I treat them like equals because they are equals. I finally appreciate women for what they really are: intelligent, thoughtful human beings.”

“So, why are you here?” she asked.

“Why am I here?” I said. “Good question. I am here for one thing: to begin my transformation into a good man. To leave the skirt chaser behind. To begin my new life as a man who does not think only about sexual conquest. To join the rest of the human race.”

“Too bad,” she said.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because I’m here for one thing, too.”

“What’s that?”

“To get laid.”

I thought for a moment.

Oh, what the hell. My transformation can start tomorrow. I didn’t want to insult the lady. Besides: She was hot. SMOKING HOT!!!

“Me too,” I said. “Me too!”

Worst-selling author T Philly Loyd loves fat chicks and cheap beer, though not necessarily in that order. He has worked for Forbes and McGraw Hill, both times running for his life as if waking up from a nightmare. His dream is to one day move to Hollywood, dig up the body of Hank Chinaski, and run away with a Razzie. Until then, he lives with his mom in Dumbass, Texas. Come check out T Phillious and his band of lovable losers at https://realflashbytes.wordpress.com. He is the author of Jelly Donut Stories – The Satiric Outtakes.