Everything was going so well.
We had Michelle Obama striding around the White House, flashing those Smith & Wesson arms at visiting heads of state.
Tiger Woods and Rep. Tickle-Me- Eric Massa each made his solitary mea culpa without a tremble-chinned wife by his side. (Thank you, Jenny Sanford, for forever banishing that hideous scenario.)
And Kathryn Bigelow cradled the Oscar that made her the first female director ever to snag a Best Picture prize. Extra credit because “The Hurt Locker” was about that most testosterone-soaked subject, war — and because she bested her ex in the category to boot.
Oh, we women were strutting our ovarian stuff. Good times, good times.
Too bad they lasted only about a minute.
Like a series of tectonic shifts beneath the gender faults, the last few weeks have brought us the 1-2-3 unnatural disasters of JihadJane, Rielle Hunter, and the women of the Montana State Prison, all of whom seem to be determined to prove that there is no limit to how deeply a woman will debase herself in pursuit of, sigh, a man.
So it’s an old story. We just wish it were a little farther in the rearview mirror. Because something about each of these cases feels really retro.
Colleen LaRose put a weird, midlife twist on the stereotype of the sixth- grade girl stuffing her bra with Kleenex in hopes boys will notice her. Except LaRose stuffed her hair under a hijab and sashayed onto the Internet as JihadJane. But she seemed more intent upon domestic bliss than domestic terrorism, the founder of My Pet Jawa told The New York Times. She used his site and others almost as a dating service, he said, “like she was looking for a soulmate.”
When it comes to wannabe brides, though, Hunter takes the cake, wrapping herself in wedding-gown white — white sheets, white pearls, white shirt, even (look away! look away!) the teeniest glimpse of white panties — for a GQ spread in which she waxed all big-eyed and dewy about her profound relationship with the married John Edwards, who impregnated her and then paid a friend megabucks to claim paternity.
And how did this tender tale of romance begin? Candlelight and roses? Long walks on a moonlit beach? No, she told GQ, it went this way: She met him. Told him, “You’re so hot.” Went to bed with him — all on the same day. Not even professional baseball players can clear bases that fast.
As for the women of the Montana State Prison? Forget those cheesy movie scenarios of “Babes Behind Bars.” These babes were on the right side of the bars, as guards, staffers, even a therapist — in other words, Women With Options. So whom did they opt for? Yep, you got it.
Prisoner Michael Murphy, doing time for theft and forgery, apparently forged intimate relationships with at least five Montana Corrections Department employees. As the therapist said, according to an internal report obtained by The Associated Press: “He kissed me one day in my office and I just thought, ‘What . . . did I just do, what just happened?’ From that point on I just, I felt like I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t say no to him, I couldn’t get myself out of it.” This is the point where we scream. (Hold on a minute. Still screaming.) Deep breath. OK.
“I couldn’t say no to him.” Let’s dial up a training film of sorts, one chock-full of advice for women in these situations. We’re talking, of course, about “Bull Durham,” in which Annie Savoy sternly lectures pretty, blond, and very, very friendly Millie about her dugout romp with new pitcher “Nuke” LaLoosh.
“I was lured,” Millie pouted. Prettily, of course.
“You didn’t get lured,” Annie shot back. “Women never get lured. They’re too strong and powerful for that. Now say it — ‘I didn’t get lured, and I will take responsibility for my actions.’ “
Ahem. Ladies, are you listening? If a guy wants you to attack your countrymen, be his baby mama without being his bride, or go all Monica Lewinsky on him behind bars, do not be lured. Pump some iron. Walk away. Kick some ex-husband butt.
Take some responsibility.
And never, never look in the rearview mirror. Because you might see Michael Murphy, who’s been transferred to a different Montana facility — where he’s been implicated in the case of a (duh) female food worker smuggling contraband.
And then you’ll just start screaming all over again.
Gwen Florio (gwenflorio@ ) is a former Denver Post staff writer who lives in Missoula, Mont. She wrote this for the Philadelphia Inquirer.
