Girls Gone Orderly in Single-File Lines

Large packs of uninhibited females terrify me. I get really nervous whenever I see commercials for those Girls Gone Wild videos. My guy friends tell me the appeal of the videos is that the girls are going to take their clothes off and make out with each other. In my almost 28 years of experience being a female, that rarely, if ever, happens. It's more likely that such a large group of untamed and boozy women will erupt in a fiery explosion of hormones, elbow you in the ribs, make subtly disparaging comments about your body, yank your hair, cut in front of you in the drink line, stop talking to you for no apparently good reason, and then go spread some vicious rumors in an attempt to destroy your life/career/relationship etc.

A intricate pastiche of hormones, societal pressure, and instinct make women a complete enigma, especially to ourselves. I was rudely confronted with the feminine mystique last night at "Girls Night Out," an event wherein I plunked down ten bucks for the privilege of shopping. The shindig was held at the Daughters of the American Revolution Constitution Hall, which made me feel twinge of national pride - our foremothers fought bravely for my right to overpriced jewelry, shoddy clothes made by children in Cambodia, and fruity cocktails.

Some observations:

• Women are suckers. Having a "beer pairing" does not make Miller Lite any classier or taste any better.
• Chocolate holds a mysterious power over women. I forgot my ID. A very scary lady bouncer grabbed me by the wrist and started to yell at me, and furiously beckoned one of the People With Clipboards, which is never a good thing. For a minute, I panicked that I was going spend the evening pilloried in front of the sugary booze stand, but Mr. Clipboard freed me from the clutches of the bouncer and whisked me inside to the right check-in line, kindly assuring me there was no problem. I was still a little edgy about the whole thing and about to bail, but then Mr. Clipboard reappeared with a server bearing chocolates on a silver tray. I'm no chocoholic, but me and my wallet were certainly less apprehensive after that.
  
• Fashion isn't necessarily stylish. I had a lot of trouble telling which garments were the next big thing and which garments were the retirement home thing.
• Women either need to deal with the fact that booze tastes like booze or else forego drinking. No matter how you dress them up or what semi-fancy booze brand you tie them to - Bacardi, Finlandia, etc.- wine coolers are essentially fermented Kool-Aid; the sugar high that accompanies the shitfacedness makes women very sloppy drunks; and most of all, I resent having to deal with a sugar crash and a hangover.
  
• Women are pushy. I have bruises today from the jostling and only narrowly avoided imprisonment in a pup tent, forced to try on Judy Jetson's clothing.
  
• Women are competitive to a fault. I bought a purse. I need a purse like a need a hole in the head, and I already have seven of those. So why did I buy a purse? Partly because it's cute. But mostly because I didn't want anyone else to get it, least of all the girl in my party who acts like Cher from Clueless.
  
• Women are insecure about their bodies. No matter what Dove tries to sell you, it's very difficult to appreciate your looks in today's world - and if you do, other women will resent you for it. Of course, the irony is that on the whole, women are much better looking than men.
  
• Project Runway is an illusion that leads to disillusion. Emmett McCarthy from Season Two was there, and he was um, not terribly charismatic. Most people didn't even recognize him. I did. He would like you to know that he is a bigger bitch in life than he is on tv. I would like you to know that his clothes are dowdier in real life than on tv. In all fairness, he is much better looking in real life than on tv.
  
• Shopping is truly the tie that binds women. I went with three friends who range in personality from grown-up Daria to Cher (the one from Clueless) I'd expected to see a lot of white twenty-somethings there, but women of all ages, every color, creed, race, and background were there. I'm pretty sure I even saw some Amish women roll up in a horse-drawn carriage.
• Estrogen smells oddly like Lean Cuisine. Go figure.