can't or won't?

As I type, two of my favourite djs/producers (Prefuse 73/Josh Eustis of Telefon Tel Aviv) are spinning at one of my favourite spots (APT). I'm going to miss them because none of my friends can go (although some tried and tried hard - thank you Pookalu!) and I can't go alone, or rather won't. Which one?

For the past 40 minutes I've been blowing off steam and having this internal tirade on how it's so unfair that a single woman should miss something she likes because:
- in this city it can be dangerous for a woman to wander alone at night
- in this culture it's considered inappropriate for a woman to be socially active, alone. In other words, I'd look like a dork. If I were a man, on the other hand, I'd look kinda cool

I ended up watching TBS's rerun of the SERIES finale of Sex & the city, I mean, the series finale of one of my favourite shows, in its ten millionth rerun, on a network that is also running a pathetic series of Lord of the rings commercials, with Frodo and Sam a' la Brokeback mountain (I find it insulting for my intelligence that since the network is "very funny" then EVERY frigging movie they show should be repackaged in a buffoon costume. Like making Neo from the Matrix sound retarded or Lara Croft sound like she's one of the gals on Lavaline "Meet Lara, she likes to go treasure-hunting...").

So, halfway through Sex and the city Big complains about feeling like a "needy chick". Well, that's me, bloggin away, chomp-chomp-chomping on a ... carrot (because I can't, even now, break my diet), a glass of ... Diet Sprite zero (Jesus!) in my hand.

I guess it's pc that I should stay home on this particular night: I'm still nursing a bad cold with a cough and I have to get up at 6am. But this is the last time I let my double X chromosome stop me, no matter how inappropriate or dangerous (ok, precautions can and will be taken) my actions turn out to be.