No Need for a Bicycle

Dearest Rachel –

You know, you spoiled me, honey.

When I first wrote to you after leaving university, some thirty-three years ago, it wasn’t out of any hope of a future together with you. Quite the opposite, in fact; it was a message of resignation and surrender, knowing that I had just left the last best place to find someone with whom to spend that future – and that, had I been allowed to choose from those I met at university, she would have been you. I assumed that you wouldn’t really appreciate what I had to say, but I needed to say it, nevertheless, and get it out of my system before getting on with my life on my own.

Obviously, that’s not what happened. So, when you had to leave, I thought that this sentiment might garner a similar response from someone else, especially if I truly meant it. But it’s one thing to court a twenty-something (especially when you are one yourself), not even out of college and wondering about her options in life. It’s a whole different story when you’re both forty- or fifty-somethings instead, and those options have been poured and set, like a concrete road. There’s no provision made for an off-ramp. Sure, my road has been hit by a meteor, like the one in Chelyabinsk, but to expect something like that from anyone else is, well… unrealistic.

There’s also, I suppose, the question of whether I could mean it, or if it would only be the emptiness talking. I’m still not sure yet.

***

You also spoiled me by being a girl in a world of women. And while that may sound like an insult, it’s meant as high praise. After all, you never really wanted to grow up; you liked being “five with forty-plus years of experience.” Granted, not all the time; I wouldn’t have proposed to a five-year-old (or even someone who always acted like one), and if I had, you wouldn’t have accepted, in any event. But you only put on the mantle of grown-uppedness (yeah, it’s not a real word, but you know what it means, so I’m going to stick with it) when you absolutely had to, even though you generally wore it well for those times you did.

That sense of, and desire for, childlikeness probably saved you from the ambition of independence that has been bred in most women today. It’s something that is slowly causing it to dawn upon me that my search for ‘Megumi’ may be closer to impossible than I’d like to believe (certainly, more so than I’ve been told by some).

The attitude of the independent woman, as idealized by second-wave feminism (the first wave, having to do with suffrage, achieved its goals, and its members are long dead; the third wave is utterly alien to me, but at least most of its members would be too young for me in any event) is pretty well encapsulated in the following slogan:

A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

Irina Dunn, 1970 (often attributed to Gloria Steinem)

Now, your friends don’t seem to be familiar with the phrase; which, since it was essentially coined a generation before us, and for that generation, stands to reason. Indeed, it sounds like an absurd non-sequitur to them, which is actually part of the point (and I’ll get to that in a moment). But I think they may well have internalized the message contained in it, however inadvertently.

The line certainly conjures up an interesting image; a bicycle, dropped into a large enough body of water, ostensibly for the ‘benefit’ of the marine life (in reality, most likely discarded by its human owner, rather than selling or trading it in, which is a curious choice of disposal in and of itself, if you ask me). At best, after the initial startling splash, fish might come up to the metal contraption, swimming around and through it, puzzling as to what it is and how it might be used. Eventually, they give up and let it just become a part of their landscape; an interesting anomaly, not unlike those plastic sculptures of men in diving gear at the bottom of an aquarium, but nothing more.

That seems to be the implication of what men are to these independent-minded women. They’ve been raised to believe that they can “have it all,” but only for certain values of all. Such value is found in the grown-up world by having a career and bringing in the kind of paycheck even most men could only dream of (for all their squawking about pay inequities between the sexes; one, that’s literally illegal, and has been since I was a child, at least; and two, if a company or even an industry were to disregard those laws, they would hire only women, since they could theoretically get the same work out of them for that much less. The fact that they don’t belies their complaint).

In fairness, this is something many people strive for as a measure of success, regardless of gender. So, this attitude of men as a mere addition to the landscape as they travel their laid-out road to success is rather a benign one – although it does mean that those holding these beliefs are off-limits to pursuit, as it would be a waste of time to do so.

But then, there are the malign effects. Let’s go back to the bicycle in the water; the metal frame slowly oxidizes, and the rust flakes off. The grease on the chain and gears lifts away, floating to the water’s surface (since oil and water don’t mix). Some of these particles are inadvertently breathed in through the gills of one creature or another, while others swim through crevices too small or sharp, and get stuck or cut on the various parts of the bike. It’s no longer just an accessory, part of the sea floor, but a pollutant seeping harmful toxins among the marine population, causing injury or even death.

This is a worst-case scenario, to be sure, but some women have concluded (and sometimes with justification, based on their own – or others’ – unfortunate experiences) that men are rather the enemy, and those that deal with them little better than collaborators. Keeping a house is seen as little more than domestic servitude, and marriage is effectively legalized prostitution to them – occasional sex in exchange for the so-called ‘protection’ of a creature that is, in their eyes, no stronger (and likely, that much weaker, in fact) than they are.

Needless to say, this is not an inviting prospect to deal with from my side either, any more than I am to them.

***

God may have said that “it is not right that man should be alone,” but He said no such thing about women. That may be because Eve was never alone to begin with, but many of her daughters seem to wish to test the waters. And man, being the fallen creature he is, doesn’t meet their expectations. So they decide that being alone is preferable – after all, he’s just a distraction on the way, anyway.

And here I sit, upon my baggage, with a shoe tied to one grip and a tin can or two to another, trying to thumb a ride in an era when no one picks up hitchhikers anymore. Maybe I’m the one who needs a bicycle.

Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.