I like playing skeeball.
Correction: I love playing skeeball.
This is a problem for at least two reasons. First, the arcade has gone by the wayside and it’s hard to find skeeball in a convenient location. Second, generally skeeball is found in places marketed toward children.
I don’t have children.
Nevertheless, I generally don’t have a problem going to family-oriented “fun” centers even though I don’t have children, and I realized something important the other day. It’s not creepy when I go to one of these places, because I’m a woman. When a lone adult man is playing skeeball around a bunch of kids, it could possibly be seen as suspicious behavior. When a woman is playing skeeball around a bunch of kids, you assume that she is with one of the children – as a mother, an aunt, or a babysitter. I actually have a reason to be glad that I finally look old enough that I could potentially have children.
I also realized that this benefit also extends to my fondness for perusing the young adult sections of book stores. Sometimes I read young adult fiction, because sometimes my brain needs to relax with some frivolous angst and sweet resolutions.
If I were a lone man browsing the young adult section of a Border’s, it’s possible that I would be viewed as a pervert. (Unless I happened to look like an exasperated father.) But, as a woman, I’m either buying a gift or I have odd taste in books. Perhaps someone might think me weird (or sad), but that doesn’t bother me.
I am weird.
I don’t usually like the double standards that exist for men and woman, and this one is certainly unfair for childless men who like to play skeeball and read young adult fiction, but for once the double standard actually works in my favor.
So, I’m not complaining.