I went to see a play by an amateur lesbian theater group yesterday. The play was entitled "Take what you can get" (freely translated from Swedish to English) and it was about a single lesbian who has nightmares about dying alone and ventures out into the world of dating in order to find a girlfriend and thus being entitled to an inheritance by a recently dead relative. It was a funny play, for the most time, with plenty of situations that I could relate to. The psychotic women, the bicurious women, the already-in-a-relationship-(with a man)-women. I've known them all. So that was kind of discouraging in itself I suppose, being in a trying-to-date-phase, as I am. But the real tragedy here is how the play ended: With the poor single lesbian marrying a stuffed animal in order to be awarded the million dollar inheritance, since apparently the dead great-aunt hadn't specified that the future spouse had to be alive or anything. (Don't ask, I didn't get it.) I mean really? Couldn't she have met someone? A nice, sane enough woman whom she could live happily ever after with? Or at least happily for a few months with? Couldn't the playwrites have given me at least that? Some hope that there are sane lesbians left in this world?
