As I drive out of Toronto along the QEW highway, I crest a small rise before dipping down into Etobicoke. There, before me, a stones-throw away in Mississauga, sit a pair of condominium buildings so sublime one can’t help but stare. To those in the know, they are dubbed the “Marilyn Monroe” buildings. So named because of the curvaceous, smooth, svelte, feminine shapes of the structures. Incredible:
On this particular day I find my mind wandering. In my head I’m crudely constructing a draft of what the Brad Pitt condo buildings might look like. How useful would a set of those be to induce a fantasy during an otherwise dull drive to work at 8:30 a.m.? What a fabulous idea to create monolithic structures to evoke thoughts of a male sex symbol. I quite quickly decide the common area party rental rooms could only be represented by Brad’s penis. Here’s what I eventually came up with:
Then, my spirit dampened. I realized I wasn’t sure quite how generous to be with the party room extensions. Whereas Marilyn rose to stardom and is now embodied in Mississauga, Ontario in a large part due to her body and its specific parts, I don’t think we have any information on how well endowed/hung/proportioned Brad is. How is it that we’re not paying enough attention to this most crucial detail of any male personality?
No doubt about the fact that Brad looks damn good, but what if he’s small in the game? Believe me when I tell you that I’d never considered what the size of his penis might be before attempting to design a set of buildings that would represent all of the male sex. All of the Marilyn’s of the male sex anyway. The desirables.
Now I find myself in a conundrum. I begrudge the relative ease in which the architects were able to blueprint the Marilyn’s, while I struggle with missing bits of key information for the Brad’s. All they had to do was take the image of the ideal woman and all her parts and erect (ha) it.
What about the ideal man? How long do I make the party schlong? Do I write Brad and ask for a measurement – assuming he’ll be honest – and use that for the dimensions? Do I strongly suggest to Brad that he undergo penile enhancement if I’m disappointed with his dick size and deem him not ideal enough to fashion my buildings after? It’s not like he’s ever expected to wear super tight or revealing pants in order to give me instant and vital information about his level of masculinity. On what basis can I offer him feedback on how to appease us women even more, how to be an even better Brad, when I don’t know the full condition of the equipment we’re dealing with?
Suddenly I’m questioning why women are not made privy to, or not particularly consumed by the sex organ of our men up front. We not only have to let our sex all hang out, we have to enhance it, push it up, plump it up and tighten it up. We are encouraged to ooze sex and are judged on what we have to flaunt. Men get to hide it away and scratch it once in a while.
Now I’m just discouraged. Screw it. Who needs a stupid boy building with a hypothetical party room anyway? Best stick with what we know.