the living doll
I recently watched a show on the BBC about men who have “real dolls.” The real dolls are life-size replicas of women. Barbies. Perfect women with perfect bodies that are perfectly available to their owners whenever they need them.
I was amazed at how lifelike the real dolls were. I wasn’t exactly thunderstruck at the type of man who owned a real doll. In no particular order they included a young man who lived at home with his parents (who did not approve of his real doll), a loner who lived in the hills of West Virginia or Tennessee or some such and a couple of other just generally lonely men.
The dolls are outrageously expensive, costing thousands and thousands of dollars. They wear out sometimes. The young man who lived with his parents had to send his doll to be fixed and he was heartbroken at the idea of being away from her for a few weeks.
The man who fixes the broken down dolls seemed a little put off by them. He acknowledged that he was providing his customers a valuable service, yet seemed a little grossed out by the smear of hot pink lipstick left on one doll. But when you think of the sights he’s seen! And the smells he’s smelled! And the strange conversations he’s had with the dolls’ anxious owners, well, that would probably put anyone off after a while.
Watching the men lovingly photograph, dress, groom, and yes, clean the intimate areas of their plastic lady friends was deeply disturbing. So much so, that I was glued to the set for the hour-long program. I think I only blinked four times in the first ten minutes.
And I had to wonder… About the real dolls that I have known.
One of my best friends was married to a real doll. Sweetly pretty and disarmingly sexy, she’d been married a couple of times already. She spent outrageous amounts of money on really stupid things, amassing a large amount of debt in the few years that they were together. But she was also fun, funny and full of charm- the life of any party. She once told me that she’d been “lucky,” because she’d “always” had a man to take care of her. She’d never “had to be alone.”
That floored me. The idea that a woman could go through life, with nothing to offer but her sexual wiles, relying every time on a man to support her, is nothing but a shock to my system.
After they divorced (during the divorce), she immediately found another man. A wealthy scion of an old family with even older money. The latest news is that she’s pregnant, though the wedding’s on hold. But truthfully, that shouldn’t matter. With the only grandchild of the family’s only son and heir, she should be set for life now.
Once again, the doll landed on her feet- or maybe on her back?
Colie was a groupie back in the day. A cute, slender doll who traveled extensively with a very, very famous singer. She didn’t age well. Grossly overweight, her voice is gravelly from too many cigarettes and too many long nights on the tour bus. Fleshy, with a heavily lipsticked mouth permanently turned down by too many disappointments. Colie, too, relied on men to support her- and supported herself by her many years as a real doll. Now, she seems lost- still relying on the men that she hires to do work around her house, drifting along like a sloop without a mainsail. With only her memories, a tiny fringed half-top and an all-access pass to remind her of the glorious days of her youth. Of her doll-dom.
Katie is a stay at home mom. I have nothing against stay at home moms. My mom, my sisters, and my sisters-in-law are pretty much all stay at home moms. All by choice. They’re dynamic women who take their kids to museums and art classes. And these days, if you decide to have kids, you may not have a choice. You have to have a considerable salary in order to afford day care for one child, let alone two or three. It’s a “choice” that more and more moms have had to accept.
Katie isn’t a dynamic stay at home mom. She’s a stay at home mom who watches TV, talks on the phone and fools around on myspace while her husband’s off at work. Her little girl seems to spend most of her time in her room, playing games or pretending to be somewhere else. Katie releases a constant stream of complaints about welfare recipients. To hear her spout off, I have to wonder if she realizes that she’s only about two steps away from public assistance herself. If her husband divorced her, and couldn’t afford to pay her support… well. She’s only had one job. She is pretty and quite charming though. The general consensus is that if they got divorced, she’d just remarry.
When it comes to self reliance, the "real" dolls give the rest of us a bad name. Living out their lives like automatons, performing when called upon, and using their thin charms to get what they want out of life. How different are these wind-up women from the real dolls? Do they ever have any cause for self-reflection? Any reason to take a closer look at their lives, and the women they’ve become?
I wish there was a place they could be sent to be fixed. Someone who would reach into the backs of their heads and open their eyes wide. Install fresh bolts in their ankles to give them the strength to stand on their own two feet.
Then again. Without the men who want the dolls for fun and games, there wouldn’t be any need for them at all.
I was amazed at how lifelike the real dolls were. I wasn’t exactly thunderstruck at the type of man who owned a real doll. In no particular order they included a young man who lived at home with his parents (who did not approve of his real doll), a loner who lived in the hills of West Virginia or Tennessee or some such and a couple of other just generally lonely men.
The dolls are outrageously expensive, costing thousands and thousands of dollars. They wear out sometimes. The young man who lived with his parents had to send his doll to be fixed and he was heartbroken at the idea of being away from her for a few weeks.
The man who fixes the broken down dolls seemed a little put off by them. He acknowledged that he was providing his customers a valuable service, yet seemed a little grossed out by the smear of hot pink lipstick left on one doll. But when you think of the sights he’s seen! And the smells he’s smelled! And the strange conversations he’s had with the dolls’ anxious owners, well, that would probably put anyone off after a while.
Watching the men lovingly photograph, dress, groom, and yes, clean the intimate areas of their plastic lady friends was deeply disturbing. So much so, that I was glued to the set for the hour-long program. I think I only blinked four times in the first ten minutes.
And I had to wonder… About the real dolls that I have known.
One of my best friends was married to a real doll. Sweetly pretty and disarmingly sexy, she’d been married a couple of times already. She spent outrageous amounts of money on really stupid things, amassing a large amount of debt in the few years that they were together. But she was also fun, funny and full of charm- the life of any party. She once told me that she’d been “lucky,” because she’d “always” had a man to take care of her. She’d never “had to be alone.”
That floored me. The idea that a woman could go through life, with nothing to offer but her sexual wiles, relying every time on a man to support her, is nothing but a shock to my system.
After they divorced (during the divorce), she immediately found another man. A wealthy scion of an old family with even older money. The latest news is that she’s pregnant, though the wedding’s on hold. But truthfully, that shouldn’t matter. With the only grandchild of the family’s only son and heir, she should be set for life now.
Once again, the doll landed on her feet- or maybe on her back?
Colie was a groupie back in the day. A cute, slender doll who traveled extensively with a very, very famous singer. She didn’t age well. Grossly overweight, her voice is gravelly from too many cigarettes and too many long nights on the tour bus. Fleshy, with a heavily lipsticked mouth permanently turned down by too many disappointments. Colie, too, relied on men to support her- and supported herself by her many years as a real doll. Now, she seems lost- still relying on the men that she hires to do work around her house, drifting along like a sloop without a mainsail. With only her memories, a tiny fringed half-top and an all-access pass to remind her of the glorious days of her youth. Of her doll-dom.
Katie is a stay at home mom. I have nothing against stay at home moms. My mom, my sisters, and my sisters-in-law are pretty much all stay at home moms. All by choice. They’re dynamic women who take their kids to museums and art classes. And these days, if you decide to have kids, you may not have a choice. You have to have a considerable salary in order to afford day care for one child, let alone two or three. It’s a “choice” that more and more moms have had to accept.
Katie isn’t a dynamic stay at home mom. She’s a stay at home mom who watches TV, talks on the phone and fools around on myspace while her husband’s off at work. Her little girl seems to spend most of her time in her room, playing games or pretending to be somewhere else. Katie releases a constant stream of complaints about welfare recipients. To hear her spout off, I have to wonder if she realizes that she’s only about two steps away from public assistance herself. If her husband divorced her, and couldn’t afford to pay her support… well. She’s only had one job. She is pretty and quite charming though. The general consensus is that if they got divorced, she’d just remarry.
When it comes to self reliance, the "real" dolls give the rest of us a bad name. Living out their lives like automatons, performing when called upon, and using their thin charms to get what they want out of life. How different are these wind-up women from the real dolls? Do they ever have any cause for self-reflection? Any reason to take a closer look at their lives, and the women they’ve become?
I wish there was a place they could be sent to be fixed. Someone who would reach into the backs of their heads and open their eyes wide. Install fresh bolts in their ankles to give them the strength to stand on their own two feet.
Then again. Without the men who want the dolls for fun and games, there wouldn’t be any need for them at all.
p.s. If you have a strong stomach, check out some real dolls online. I think this is the company highlighted in the show I watched. Note the extras you can order.
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