Postus Scriptum

Gempires is back with another long, brilliantly written, intensely personal post which covers, amongst other things, the subject of men and women and how badly they get along together. It has inspired this post by Chas which in turn spurred off something in my mind. A story, if you will...

A couple of months ago I went to see Replay, a set of short plays at the Repertory Theatre. The night was mixed - there was a brilliant short play by Steve Martin (How I Joined Mensa), a perfect crowd pleaser by John Cleese (The Silly Court Sketch), and not enough plays by local authors. But amongst them was a work of sheer genius - a work so witty, so succint, and yet so universal that it seemed to encompass everything worth saying of the human condition. Or almost everything. Since I don't even know who wrote the play, and since it seems unlikely that you'll ever see it, I am now going to tell you all about it.

The play was called Man/Woman.
The setting: a train station. The time: morning, 8.00am. A train can be heard going approaching the station. People depart from the train and walk over the stage. Then, when the train has departed, a man arrives on stage. He is dressed in a tuxedo, with bow tie, shined boots, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a bottle of champagne in the other. He is handsome in a roguish way, and roguish in a handsome way - slightly unshaven, with long hair, and a merry sparkle in his eye. The man approaches the front of the stage, raises the bottle and the bouquet of flowers to the audience.
And he says one word - one word only:
"Women!"

Now is that not poetry, dear reader? It certainly seemed to me to be so at the time. If the play had closed then, I would have thought it perfect. But it got better.

The lights dim for a moment, then a moment later come up again. The time is now 9.00am. Another train approaches the station. As it draws near, stops, then drives off again, the man approaches the stage, and looks back and forth amongst the people who now cross the stage, trying to find the familiar face... here there are schoolchildren, there an elderly pensioner, there a minister and a nun, elsewhere a guitarist. But the person he is looking for - is not there.
The man looks at the clock, looks at the audience, and raises the drink again, in dubious tribute:

"Women!"

Again the lights dim. The next scene is again an hour later. The man is sitting dejectedly on the seat, having taken his coat off. As the train approaches, he looks up and down the platform. But his beloved has still not arrived. He sits back down again, and looks at the ground dejectedly. He is approached by a drunk, who presses himself up against the man in that way that drunks do. The man pushes him away and continues to stare sadly at the ground.

He sighs: "Women!"

So, in this way, the hours pass, the trains go by, and the man still is not reunited with his lady-love. Instead, he gradually loses everything. He loses his sobriety (sharing the champagne with the drunk) then his flowers (throwing them in the bin) his clothes (gradually divesting himself of them as the hours go by). He even loses his sanity - then gains it again - then loses it again - then gains it again. As the scenes progress, punctuated each time by the single, mantra-like exclamation - "Women!" - the man undergoes an extraordinary emotional and metaphysical journey.
Finally, in the penultimate scene - the 23rd scene - he loses it completely. He tosses off all his remaining clothes, stands up on the platform seat, cries loudly, stares wildly, and waves his hands about as if he were balancing on a surfboard at sea. The Men In White Coats (TM) duly arrive and drag him off stage.

And the punchline? The denouement? Ah, you'll never guess - come 8.00am, a day after the inception of the play, the train arrives. A girl dressed in a beautiful, flowing dress appears on stage, looks puzzled, looks here, looks there, looks up at the clock - then looks wryly at the audience and shrugs. She says one word, one simple word:

"Men!"

*

So there you go. Not sure why I told you that really, though several reasons come to mind:

a) That was a fucking good play, and I really enjoyed myself.

b) Men are on the whole pretty dumb, but are willing to go through hell for a woman.

c) Gem is blogging again, and that is a Good Thing.

I think I'll go with option c).