Norah Vincent spent 18 months disguised as a man, mingling with the opposite sex. And then wrote a book about it. A funny read, I’m sure:
One night Jim was talking about his plans for a ski trip. He wanted to find a location that had good skiing, but he also wanted some lively nightlife. “I’d like to find a place that has a good titty bar,” he said. Bob chimed in, “Yeah. Count me in on that. I’m definitely up for that.”
I haven’t read the book, but saw her interviewed on a few news shows. She seemed interesting and not entirely under the influence of some common feminist delusions. One of the poses she strikes in the photos for the book make her-as-a-man look histrionically, laughably gay (imagine a pictorial spread in “Manhunt” magazine, I know you can), where she is sitting down with her legs spread, trying to look intimidating or powerful (like the famous magazine cover of Bill Clinton, where he looks ready to receive a snarlin’ gnarlin’). Amazingly, though, no one seemed to have figured her out, and she went on dates with several unsuspecting women to complete her research for the book.
You may never eat another Sloppy Joe again.