When I blew out the 8 candles on my birthday cake the summer of 1969, my single wish (other than the eternal wish for a baby sister that never arrived) was to have my own Mystery Date game.
For those of you unfamiliar with this game (which is probably most of you reading this), this game was about achieving the right look and scoring the right man for your date. You collected cards that represented an outfit and accessories for a particular kind of date: the prom, skiing, bowling, etc. When you had all the necessary matching cards for that type of date, you spun the handle on the little white plastic door in the middle of the board, said a little prayer and opened the door on your mystery date. Hoping that the date revealed matched the way you were dressed. When you did that you won the game.
As I never scored a game of my own, I was forced to play with Connie, the neighborhood mean girl who lived down the street. Always perfectly dressed in the latest fashion. Always clean. Always beribboned. Never dirty. Connie was my mom's wet dream for how I should be. She was also the only girl in my neighborhood with Mystery Date and my mother was overjoyed when I wanted to go to Connie's to play. Really all I wanted though was a chance to spin the little plastic door and find the man of my dreams. To do that I would even put up with Connie's bullying - at least for a while.
We all wanted the prom date and a chance to wear the sparkly pink dress on the box. To just once be THAT girl. We accepted the skiing date even though none of knew dick about skiing or anyone who did it. The bowling guy was also OK. Since most of our dad's DID that we at least knew what it was. Most hoped to avoid Poindexter, the geek, and the guy who was only known as the DUD. I personally never minded the DUD. With his long hair, untucked shirt, jack boots and jeans, he looked like he had been rode hard and put away wet. Like he might be familiar with biker bars and knew where to find trouble. He was the antithesis of my world and everything it stood for, but to my 8 year old suburban white bread psyche, the DUD was MY mystery date.
Fast forward to 2009. As someone now living on the other side of the feminist movement, I have to say there is no way I would EVER buy this game today and I might be inclined to shred it should I ever come across it. Besides forcing me to play with Connie (whom I loathed), I wonder what kind of bullshit 1960's message did this game try to force into my strong young girl's mind?
- that clean cut and handsome (as defined by popular vote of course) was desirable. Oh puuuuhleeeease! Do you have any idea how many clean cut, well-dressed and handsome posers I have met? Yeah.
- that how I dress and accessorize is more important than anything else. More important than who I am on the inside. More important than what or how I think. In fact, better not to think at all little girl.
- that I was not good enough by myself and that I needed the perfect man in order to win (read succeed). Jesus H. Christ.
In retrospect, I see that mean girl Connie having this game was no accident. It was part of her grooming by her mean mom Edie. And that the lessons the game taught fell right in line with mean Edie's plans for mean Connie. Yunno, my mom and I have a lot of issue, but seriously, for whatever reason she chose NOT to ever get me this game. THANK YOU!!!
So, now I am all grown up right? Have become an ardent supporter of women standing in their own power WHATEVER they feel they are called to do. Yes, I am a feminist in that I want any woman to be free to feel OK about who she is right now without feeling pressure to change. I want that for men to, so I see myself more as a humanist than a feminist per se. But I'm getting off track here. The funny thing is that Mystery Date is still out there only now it's called match.com or eharmony.com. Yes, I am a member sad to say. So I know wherein I speak. After almost a year, it never ceases to amaze me how many little plastic people there are on the other side of that little plastic door. Yet, I stay. Guess I am still hoping that if I spin that door handle enough times, that I truly might find the man of my dreams. And that in some parallel universe where he is also playing Mystery Date version 2009, he is also spinning the handle and hoping to find me.
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