I am a woman and let me tell you, being a woman is actually a great thing. At least for the most part.
Living in patriarchy is not a walk in the park (whatever dimwit came up with that flagrantly ableist expression literally deserves a drink thrown in their face), in fact it’s not a walk at all, it’s a struggle.
For most women, simply living is an everyday fight that sometimes makes you break down and not want to deal with the world at all. Alas, it’s not always easy to be the strong, independent woman you want to be in a world where the odds are so greatly stacked against you. Sometimes In the Patriarchal paradise that is the modern world, it’s hard finding ways to empower yourself. This leads to a lack of empowerment, which in turn, is very disempowering. In these dark moments, the act of retreating to your room with with black Niles of mascara slithering down your rosy cheeks, busting open a packet of finger-sucking good Doritos and watching Vampire Diaries season 4, seems to be the only thing you can do to even get a pinch of empowerment for the day.
For centuries male chauvinists have made a sport of robbing women of their natural empowerment rights, a phenomenon that expresses itself, perhaps most tangibly in the unrealistic expectations of womens’ bodies and how women should behave. It’s 2014 and magazines are still full of pictures telling women that, if they’re not size 0, blonde bombshells with nips that stand at attention as if before the patriarch General Custer (or General Custard as I like to call him), they’re basically worthless. Oh and yeah, beauty pageants are still a thing, where women are put on display, literally like cattle, and judged by male eyes, hungry for peppered Angus Beef. I mean wow…just wow. It doesn’t matter if a woman is 100 pounds or 350, just butt out.
On top of these all these everyday pressures, we have to deal with men. Men who catcall, men who give us unwanted compliments, men who think they own our bodies. And if you’re a straight woman like myself, you also have to deal with them in the deep marshes of the dating world. Most men I come across in my life are real mansplainers. They whine, from atop their alabaster throne of privilege, about no women liking them, not finding the right girl (guess what, there are no right or wrong girls, all girls are right, got it?) and women actually daring to have some standards. When they don’t get their way, they resort to practicing endless slut-shaming, saying stuff like “sluts are always going to be slutting around” and “girls only go for douchebags”. Boo-fucking-hoo.
Let me tell you MEN, exactly why that girl you’re trying to get with, doesn’t want ANYTHING to do with you:
1. You’re short.
Guess what stumpy. If you’re under 6 foot-two, you need not apply. Do we need to put this totally un-chic “You have to be this tall to ride this ride” sign on top of our heads or what is it that you don’t understand?
It’s simple. I need to feel like a princess and how can I do that with Danny Devito-esque “men” tugging at my sleeves? Oh and heels, need I say more, like hello?
Is there seriously one person out there who is proud to be a short man? I would need as many hands as an Indian deity to count the many horror-stories my girl friends tell me about short men approaching them in the streets and bars and I wish I could say it hasn’t happened to me. Over mimosas, me and the girls, jokingly call the aftermath of such an encounter PTSTD (Post Traumatic Shortman Trying Disorder).
Short men, when will they learn?
2. You’re ugly
Okay, so you’re no Ryan Gosling or Liam Hemsworth, but that shouldn’t ruin your chances of getting with a girl, right? Wrong.
If there’s something me and girlfriends can’t stand, it’s ugly men. Why in the name of all that is holy, would women, who are a diverse group of fierce and beautiful individuals, give Mr. Hooknose or Lack o’ Jaw Jack the time of day? It’s beyond me how some uggos have the audacity to approach me, thinking they have a shot of getting me to sleep with them. Puuhleaase. That’s not it man. You ain’t getting none of this. Like. Ever. If I wanted a rump with Quasimodo I’d move to Paris and get a goat. I don’t even like goats.
I am in my twenties. Life is all about fun. Having ugly guys in my life is literally a killjoy stain that needs to be, like, rubbed out. I’m sure 99.9999 percent of all women agree with me. Gemma didn’t, she started going out with this guy who’s got big dumbo ears last summer. We don’t talk to her anymore.
So, In case you didn’t get it it yet, if you’re ugly. Euuww. Just go. Creep.
3. You’re booooring
Seriously what’s wrong with you? You take me out on a date, you give me a bouquet of ugly flowers, then you sit down and talk to me like I’m your sister or something, asking me questions about my life and whatnot. All throughout dinner you give me these creepy compliments like “you’re looking pretty today” or “Your hair looks nice today”. And at the end of the night, you’re stupid enough to believe you’re going to get a kiss after you’ve given me a ride home? Seriously? Just no.
And you think sending a text asking me “how are you sweetie :)?” after all this is going to compel me to grant you access to my sugar walls. No thanks Jeffery. You might as well go to the Moon. And stay there. Where is the excitement and thrill boys?
I just wanna have fun. Make my life fun. Be that guy who calls me a bitch and a slut in that playful way. Pin me down on the kitchen table, manhandle me, slap me and give me the good news all night. Don’t ask for permission to kiss me, just do it. (Unless you’re Lack o’ Jaw Jack, then just leave, now.) Get yourself into car chase just for fun, shoplift just for fun, get into fights, do hard drugs and just do reckless stuff, and lots of strong, ferocious women will flock to you. Oh and tattoos, get lots of tattoos without thinking twice.
In a nutshell, don’t be a nut(less) shell. As me and the girls would say, make me tingle, and I’ll let you eat me like a pringle.
4. You’re poor
I am a woman and I’m in my twenties. It is no secret that I want to enjoy myself. What is kind of a big requirement for enjoying oneself? Gee, I don’t know, maybe, like, MONEY.
Yes money is kind of a big deal, has that ever crossed your mind, or are you like, living in Lala-land?
Before the thought of approaching me is even conceived, hell, before that thoughts’ parents even meet at that Bar Mitzvah in ‘06, you should take a good, hard look at yourself in the mirror. If you’re working a low-end job, wearing clothes from target and driving an old second-hand car, don’t even think of giving birth to that thought and turning it into an action.
As a young woman, I want the best clothes, cute shoes, pretty jewelery and I NEED to travel.
(I can’t state enough how much I NEED to travel. I could write a long list of reasons as to why, I, as a young woman, have this insatiable NEED to travel and why you should date a girl with a NEED to travel, but that’s for another day.)
Why would I get with a man who couldn’t pull his weight and provide me with only one or two of those things. What am I supposed to say to Gemma, if I ever bump into her at Starbucks and she goes on and on about her and Dumbo’s vacation on Aruba, that I had a dreary weekend in Boston with my man? I don’t think so. Get off your ass and start making paper, then maybe, just maybe, I won’t bitchslap you if you walk up to me.
Note:If you’re a cute bartender with forearms that make us melt, you’re of course exempt from number 4.
5. You’re a sexist asshole a misogynist pig and a transphobic douchebag
As a feminist, I am disgusted by any sort of disrespect of women (and any other gender). So if you’re one of those sexist male bastards that seem to crawl around all over the place, why don’t you check your privilege? Why don’t you go out of your way to make life better for women of color? Why don’t you act more accommodating towards transwomen and genderqueer individuals? Why don’t you major in Women’s studies like any sane person?
Stop with the slut-shaming, victim-shaming, fat-shaming, looks-shaming and while you’re at it, just snap the other shaming-arrows you keep in your shaming-quiver, in half. Stop calling the LGBT-movement, the LMNOP-movement, (Yes I’m talking to you Peter, it’s not funny, it’s pathetic.)
If I could, I would bury all these Arthur Schopenhauer type-sexists in one big mass-grave.
How do you expect women like me, who wish you would just die, to ever make flowers with you? Start making changes in your life and you’ll see that more girls will like you. When I’m talking about sexist pigs, I’m of course not talking about, like hot guys, who kind of like, express sinfully funny misogynist sentiments sometimes, or maybe naughtily slap you or pull your hair and call you a ‘fucking whore.’ This is like, not really sexism, it’s just hot, rough and tumble play. I am talking more about the woman-hating, troll, neckbeard, gnomes who go on the internet and comment sexist comments on pictures of bikini-clad women or post in men’s rights forums.
I’ll give you an example of this. Last week a picture of me in my bikini from last spring break was attacked by some rape-apologist troll named “Jimmy Russell”, who commented “Wow, someone had a bit too much fast-food over the break, 2/10 would not bang”. I was literally traumatized for a week, my therapist didn’t help, not even mimosas helped and it certainly didn’t help that my friend Lisa just thought it was funny. I don’t give a shit Lisa. This is serious. This is what women have to go through EVERY SINGLE DAY.
So to wrap it up, don’t be Jimmy Russell, don’t be THAT guy, just be a decent human being and you might find that girls like you more.