I recently ate in this breakfast place called CJ’s Cafe (5501 Pico Blvd.). It’s been on this corner for years, but I always passed it and never thought of going inside. To be honest, the reason I never went in was that it seemed like a black and Latino hangout and wasn’t sure if I would be welcome. Finally, I said to hell with it. This is L.A. They’d be happy to take my money, too. I went inside, and found myself in a simple, but comfortable cafe. I really liked the place and I had a great breakfast (an omelette with spicy turkey sausage).
Today, Sophia was passing by my apartment on the way to a job. I suggested we try CJ’s together. We got to the cafe at 7:30 AM when most of the customers were blue-collar guys who worked at the body shops and carpet stores on Pico Blvd.
Sophia had a meeting later in the day, so she was wearing a new dress that was flowery and tight. As we walked inside, every guy turned to check her out. These guys were not shy about it. These guys ogled her breasts. As the waitress took us to our table, their eyes followed her ass. As we sat down, I leaned over and quietly whispered to Sophia:
"Those guys were really checking you out."
"I know," she said, smiling.
I felt jealous — but not of the men looking at Sophia, the woman I shared a bed with for years. No, if anything — I was jealous of Sophia. I’ve never had the opportunity of stepping into a room filled with women and have them check me out head to toe. I have a feeling that even if I looked like Brad Pitt, it wouldn’t happen. I know it’s politically incorrect to talk about gender differences, but men and women are wired differently.
Although I don’t often show it, I have a flamboyant streak in me. I’d like to walk down the street wearing some cool flowing outfit and have the women "ooh" at my presence. I wouldn’t be surprised if they found out one day that gay men became gay not because they like sleeping with men, but because they can wear yellow in public.
As I sat in CJ’s with Sophia, I thought about what it would be like to be a woman for a while — sort of like those awful body switch comedies they made in the 1980’s. And I don’t mean just dressing up like a woman, like in Tootsie. I mean actually be a full-fledged woman, hopefully a sexy one with a great ass. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a guy. I’m just curious to learn more about the world of a woman. Would I like wearing high heels? Would I get a bikini wax? What does a period really feel like? I wouldn’t mind having breasts to play with.
But would I really want to sleep with… a man? Yuch. Men are so hairy… and they smell bad.
I would’ve been too embarrassed to write this post, that is until I accidentally found a talented female blogger from Albuquerque named Jo-Anne who was asking the same question — from a woman’s POV. She was wondering what it would be like to be a man. I know my female readers are obsessed about penises. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have one hanging there? Would it be fun to aim and pee? Would you really want to feel like a man — with all that testosterone?
Have you ever wished to be the opposite sex — just for a little while?
