It's funny after doing this job for 5 years to hear people say they
have never been a female Messenger before they saw you. Hear it all
the time.
Being in the obvious minority can be flattering and horrible sometimes
at the same time. My biggest complaint is not sexual harassment,
although that's what I bitch about vociferously. Dammit I'm putting
it out there (metaphorically speaking) because I think for dudes to really
be able to bond with women, they should feel as much pain reading this
article as I feel everyday when I ride my bike.
Imagine for a moment that you have stapled the skin of your scrotum.
Actually the brave could try this, then get on your bike and get hot.
One of the most hilarious things I've ever heard was the question, "Do
you get off all day with your parts rubbing on the saddle for hours?"
Once I've finished laughing I could only imagine getting that much pleasure
from a moray eel keeping me under water with my bootie clenched firmly
in its jaws. The pleasure in that kind of pain is that the pain reminds
you throbbingly that you are alive.
There are 2 things that prevent female comfort in bike riding.
1. The bike seat. 2. The pussy. Neither is designed
for the abuse of a potholed street and a rush delivery. The bike
seat, strangely, is a design more suited for men. There are models
for women but they are more expensive than a pedigreed cat and not guaranteed
to provide absolute comfort. The snatch, pussy, labia, box are definitely
not designed for a 10 hour day of jackhammer concussion. All those
damn folds of skin and so many nerve endings. After a week of riding
its amazing if I can last through 15 minutes of sex without screaming or
falling asleep. Anyway our ridiculous anatomy only adds to the problem.
Put severely pinched skin on a seat hard enough to chop vegetables on and
presta an instantly cranky woman. Its sad to say but I actually have
a callous in a very odd spot. This is the result of $5 seats 50hrs
plus a week of hammering around. There have been many days when after
nearly crying in pain I have vowed that if I ever met the dude who
designed the bike seat, I'd jam one down his throat to demonstrate how
uncomfortable the design is.
So far my method of dealing has been to roll my eyes up into my head,
balance on that callous and growl. It's quite effective. I
have a difficult time justifying spending $60 for a "Girl Saddle," when
my most expensive bike cost me $50.
Since I have shared my agonies with men I have come to discover that
a fair amount of men also get pinched. It's one of those things,
at least they aren't sitting on their nuts all day. It's nice that
they can relate though.
Pain is pain. Be it a broken wrist, a bronchitic cough a kick
in the groin, it's still pain.
