I like to watch a lot of animal documentaries. I starting watching them because I wanted people to think that I am the type of person who likes watching animal documentaries. Along the way, though, I realized something. No, I didn’t realize that I actually like animal documentaries. With my questionable attention span, sometimes I don’t think that I’m psychically capable of genuinely enjoying something. I either become absolutely and unreservedly obsessed with something, or I truly never give it a second thought. In between those extremes is the lovely gray space of just simply “enjoying” something, a space which I am not particularly inclined to exist within.
Nevertheless, I still watch animal documentaries, and I realized something about peacocks. I discovered that male peacocks are diabolically more attractive than female peacocks, and that I am unnecessarily aggravated by this. Let the record show that I am not mad solely because the male peacocks get to be beautiful creatures while the females look like little turd birds. I am mad because I am not a peacock. I am nearly convinced that the human race got it reversed, because, damn, life looks much better as a female peacock than a female skin sack of a human. Consider this, even the movement for our literal rights was labeled “suffrage”, which was just a cruel irony. Now, all of those photos of peacocks with the colorful tail feathers, waving them around in an aggressive spectacle… those are the men of the clan. The ladies, on the other hand, don’t have to do shit. They stand there, doin’ nothin’, and bein’ medium ugly. And that lifestyle, the just-standing-there one, looks absolutely fantastic. Female peacocks, sorry ladies I’m sure you’re beautiful on the inside, kind of look like pigeons. They’re brown and small and just stand there and hang out. Let us rejoice, for this female species has been freed of unrealistic beauty standards! And what do they get in return for just doing nothing? They get absolutely everything and anything.
In one particular animal documentary, right before I fall asleep of course, I witnessed a male peacock try harder to genuinely impress a female more than I had seen a man do in my entire human life. The male peacocks will legitimately go to fucking flavor town and back trying to get the attention of the first girl they see. They whip out the tail feathers in all of their glory, laying their cards out on the table as if Aphrodite peacock over there had just broken up with her high school boyfriend and she’s single and finally on the market.
These females, the ones just standing there minding their own business, are probably the bird-equivalent of me hanging out at a Denny’s at four O’clock in the afternoon. I’m most likely wearing my thirteen-year old “unisex” P.E shorts because its “laundry day”, shoveling pancakes into my mouth. Now imagine that (I know, it’s gross), but imagine if that was me, just living my gross life in peace, and out of nowhere the door flies open and a stampede of handsome, sturdy, reliable men come rushing in, with the sole purpose of vying for my attention. Imagine! I’m in my booth, knee-deep in a build-your-own grand slam, and the men just show up! They come in waving their wallets and vaccination cards in my face, shoving photos of their ailing grandmother and their childhood dog in my face. They throw their full credit reports and letters of recommendation down on the syrup-stained table in lustful desperation. They can’t help themselves. They are instinctively wired to seduce me. That might be the dream right there.
A human man once called me disrespectful because I didn’t buy him onion rings after he bitched about coming all of the way over to my apartment after work, even though I had just told him to stay home instead because he was clearly tired…so yeah, I’d like to be a peacock instead.