I had a well thought out post planned. No, really, I did. But my head hurts from this fucking cold. And I’m so pissed and annoyed right now it’s hard to be coherent.
I should save this post for tomorrow and have an official FOADT post. But, I’m annoyed by actual PEOPLE, rather than groups of people or objects. And I’m too prone to guilt to tell a specific person to fuck off and die. Because they will, eventually, and then I’ll feel bad. Fucking guilt producing ovaries.
Anyway – where was I?
Ah yes, what’s pissing me off lately.
1) Men who can’t figure out the fine line between always letting a woman fend for her fucking self and turning into a controlling, egotistical, women are stupid and useless and the pretty ones need to be pampered.
2) The women who propagate this behavior by being either complete femininazi bitches, or complete waste of space, nothing to offer but a hot ass and blank stare bimbos.
First the… er… first. I love my husband. Honestly, I do. He is absolutely one of the Good Guys. But the man does not have a chivalrous bone in his fucking body. Seriously. He has zero instinct to “take care” of me in the little ways.
Don’t get me wrong – he definitely is compelled to provide for us, in the monetary sense. And that is no small thing – as anyone who has ever known a deadbeat dad/husband can attest to.
But it’s the little things I like to bitch about. Like the fact that he leaves my car on E. Below E even. In sub zero weather. Or the fact that it would never occur to him to “defend my honor” in a bar. Or at, let’s say, a wrestling meet.
And do you know WHY he doesn’t “take care of me” in the little ways? Anyone? Anyone? Because he figures that I can, as he says, “fend for myself”.
No shit. Of course I can fend for myself. Left alone in the middle of anywhere I obviously am not going to curl up in the fetal position and cry myself into oblivion. Of course I can survive, thrive even, in damn near any situation using only my God given wits and abilities. I hope to God most of us could.
But that is soooo NOT the point. Just because I can doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to be babied a bit. Cared for. Protected even, once in a while.
Which brings me to the other extreme. Men who think that because I have a vagina, I NEED to be taken care of. But not in that chivalrous, gentlemanly, open a door for you way.
No. In that have to have every fucking opinion evaluated way. In that mistrust everything that comes out of my mouth because oh Dear God my ovaries may have influenced that thought… kind of way.
See these? They are boobs. Although they may make YOU an idiot from time to time – they don’t have the same fucking effect on me. M’kay?
I may, from time to time, have an idea that is different than yours. It doesn’t make it wrong by default. In fact, you’d be fucking LUCKY to have my input and perspective on a few things… if only you’d be able to check your ego long enough to see that. I have had quite a few successes in my life before I came across YOUR path. Men much smarter and wealthier than you have asked for and respected my opinion.
And because this post isn’t quite long enough to qualify as a novella just yet, let’s go ahead and touch on point two. Shall we?
You. You women who give women a bad name. You’re not just stupid with a pretty face. You’re worse. Because you’re just smart enough to have honed your craft of getting by on your looks. The only people in the world who matter to you are those with penises – because those are the ones you can manipulate.
You use your fake ass laugh. You use your condescending smile. You use it all, right down to the little finger you crook. You use it to get out of the rules and responsibility that the rest of us must live by. You use it to disguise your methods.
You use. Period. And you do it all with an innocent smile.
Be forewarned. That crap might work on all the men in your life. But women? Smart women? Capable women who pride ourselves on getting by on more than cleavage?
We see you. We see right through your shit. And the moment YOUR crap starts to affect OUR lives?
It. is. on.