Running like a girl

Generally I hate stereotypical sexist phrases like these.  Only instead of the word ‘hate’, put in the word ’embrace’.

Now I’m not saying that there aren’t some women out there that run like the wind and can kick my ass, etc.  Because there are.  Lots of ’em.  But at the same time, stereotypes exist for a reason.

Because they sprout from a kernel of truth.

Lets be honest, who hasn’t seen a girl (or some unfortunate girly-boy) running at some point– arms outstretched and flopping about.  Some call it “sashaying with a purpose”.  Others may call it a “prancing flounce” or a “frightened mince”.

A rose by any other name would still run as uncoordinatedly.

Unfortunately since this style of movement seems to be perpetrated most often by younger females, it got the most convenient label.  Its sexist and unfair, but then so is High School.

Its also really damn funny to watch.

This weekend Jim and I witnessed a full-grown man running like a girl.

We were at Old Chicago on Sunday, grabbing a bit of lunch.  The booth right behind ours had a nice, younger couple- and the guy was cute.  VERY cute.  Cute enough that Jim caught me staring and said, “I know what you’re looking at… and Jesus does too.”

Anyway…

At the end of their meal, the shitty waiter came by and cleared off their table.  Arms laden with the detritus from the couple’s meal, he heads off to the kitchen.  Just as the waiter was about 10 feet from the swinging doors, the Cute Guy in the booth starts whisper-shouting “Sir?  Um… SIR!”

Then he gets up and careens after the guy- violently flouncing the entire way.

He had time.  He could’ve opted for the walk fast while hailing the waiter in a louder voice.  He also could’ve done the chugging, short-step run.  But no.  He did a full-on, jazz run with arms akimbo like they were on marionette strings.  There may or may not have also been spirit fingers involved.

Bob Fosse and chubby flag girls were taking notes.

Jim’s eyes got real big and his jaw dropped a bit as the guy whooshed by.  I completely gawked with a full head turn to follow Cute Guy’s progress, naturally.  And when he caught the waiter (in the nick of time) I turned to Jim and said in my best Kelly voice:

Whaaa.  Waaaah.  Aaaaaht???

I was transfixed.  I found myself staring as the waiter and Nancyboy went through the plates and napkins when voila!  The guy finds whatever was so effing important.  He then walked (thankfully) back to his (hopefully mortified) girlfriend.  And because I’m still unabashedly watching and listening to the events unfold, I am rewarded with a glimpse of what was ‘almost’ thrown out.

His retainer.

I am in no way shitting y’all about this.

Now, I am all for adult orthodonture– lord knows it could’ve seriously helped Tom Cruise had he stuck with it.  But I don’t think I’d seen anyone “almost” throw away their retainer since the 9th grade.  To his credit, at least it was one of those transparent, molded, over-the-teeth kind.  But still!

Dude (and I use the term loosely at this point), you are an adult now.  The ‘wrapping up your retainer in a napkin’ thing went out in junior high.  They make boxes for them.  You could have gone to the restroom and removed it and tucked it in your jacket for safe keeping.  Something.  ANYthing.

Well… soon after ‘Retainergate’,  the No-Longer-Cute-Because-He-Runs-Like-A-Girl Guy and his girlfriend leave.  Truly I was a bit disappointed; I wanted them to stay just long enough for me to casually toss something at him. 

Mainly because I wanted to see if he catches and throws like a girl, too.