If You Wouldn’t Bang Hitler, You’re A Prude

Kiev.Victor / Shutterstock.com)
Kiev.Victor / Shutterstock.com)

Yesterday was a really tough day. It was probably, like, tougher than the average day of castaways who’ve been, like, cast away, (like in that movie with Tom Hanks that I can’t remember the name of), cuz at least they get to work on a sweet tan and drink coconut water all day.

I had the (dis)pleasure of running into Gemma, a-fucking-gain. Mae Bae Lynn and I were sitting at like a little cute café, having this adorable little “blunch” ( like brunch and lunch combined) talking about this totally hawt motorcycle dude that I let in the backdoor the night before, when none other than Gemma walks in. The girls and I, (okay, like, mostly me but whatevs) have tried to shun her cuz she’s together with a really ugly dude that I’ve told you about before called Dumbo Ears (okay that’s not his real Christian Jesus-name but that’s what I call him). Her choice of boyfriend is making my entire group of gurrllfrraands look bad, (like you’d never see someone with ears like that on Gossip Girl, only on, maybe Big Bang Theory, the non-XXX version). I pretended to be like totally happy to see her, you know, smiled and hugged her and shit, but in reality I wasn’t, like, AT ALL.

I started thinking: Gemma has become a totally boring prude now. She wears mom-clothes constantly, literally no tummy or tits showing, she totally looks like she’s British and her name is Jane Smith (blerggggh). All she does is hang out with her boring boyfriend and pay rent and go to museums and talk about (maybe) having kids. Like WTF girl, you’re 24, that’s not how a woman of your age should live.

If there’s one thing that feminism has taught me it’s that we’re not only allowed to have, but SHOULD have, fucking fun, bang random dudes, and do spontaneous and totally crazy shit that we can laugh about later over frappies. “Consequences” (something that old white men say all actions have) are like Harrison Ford—they don’t exist. They were made up by the Patriarchy to make us women fear living out our true passions. 
It wasn’t always this way with her, though. The Gemma I knew and loved in high school was “that cuh-razy girl.” She’d drop Molly every weekend, snort the cum out of a teacher she was banging, and let college football teams run a train on her every weekend. (I saw it happen once at an outta this world House Party at Holly’s, and just WOW.) That same girl is now reading gardening magazines, doing laundry, and picking out wallpapers? What. The. Cunt!?

I began boiling with newfound anger at Gemma after thinking about how much she’d changed…

Anyway so Mae Bae Lynn and her started talking about their diets and I kind of just zoned out (still boiling, though) and started thinking, wondering why Ray Ray wouldn’t reply to my texts even though he explicitly told me he wasn’t a player after we’d banged on his girlfriend’s couch on Saturday night…

I was suddenly awoken from my stupor, #bigwordqueen, when Gemma said, “I usually use brown sugar in my smoothies…”

My mind started racing. Brown sugar…brown…Braun…as in Eva Braun…as in Braun Kitchen appliances…luxury kitchen appliances at an affordable price…affordable price…IKEA…drawers…kitchen drawers…food…Hitler liked food…Hitler.

And so my mind was, as it so often is, on Adolf Hitler. They say all roads lead to Hitler and they’re right (whoever they are). And so I began thinking these thoughts to myself … “OMG, Hitler was soooo dapper, I love a man in uniform, lol. Come on Anne, Hitler, really? Yes, Angel-Anne standing on my left shoulder whispering into my ear … I know what he did was wrong, all that stuff with the Jews and that was really bad and mean, but that doesn’t mean you can’t admire his sexy ‘stache. I think if Hitler burst through the door like, right now, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of him. Omg Devil-Anne, these are not good thoughts…he did bad things…yeah I know… like, it might seem freaky, considering what he did and all, but dat uniform doe…the ultimate bad boy…lol imagine that…that’s such a crazy image…getting reamed by Hitler in a Boston cafe…but that’s what cray girls do…and I am definitely one of those…a crazy girl like me wouldn’t hesitate before doing something like that…but Gemma…Gemma would…Gemma isn’t… fun…anymore…she isn’t crazy…she’d never…no no…she’s too grown-up for that…too good for us…too precious…too matureGollum…she changed…she’s not…not crazy …”

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly I was kinda almost shouting at Gemma.


Gemma looked at me like I had said something totally weird and then was all like:

“What the hell are you talking about, Anne? Are you okay, you’re going all red?”


I was on a roll, making cool hand movements, shouting really loud; it was like I was channeling someone else, like someone else was using my oral orifice to produce these shouts. Gemma was stunned for a moment or two, looking at me like I was behaving out of order, but then she managed to mustard up a response.

“I don’t know why on Earth you would ask such a thing, it’s an absurd question to just blurt out like that, questions like that don’t even deserve an answer…but no, no of course I wouldn’t fuck Hitler, who in the world the would, he is responsible for one of the biggest genocides in human history.”

At this point I knew there was no saving Gemma, she was too far gone into insanity, and no, not fun insanity, as in cuh-raziness, but real craziness as in madness and straitjacket and Jack-Nicole deSon and all that. I knew then, in that moment, that we had lost another one to the Patriarchy, so I said, defeated:

“The Gemma I once knew wouldn’t hesitate to fuck Hitler, she’d get right on it, she would be aching for his Aryan juices, she would be his Poland, his Denmark, his Austria, his…all the other countries that Hitler invaded, she would…I don’t have any more puns…but you get the idea, she’d fuck Hitler cuz she was a crazy girl and that’s what crazy girls do…maybe that Gemma killed herself in a bunker…I don’t know…but what I do know, is that I want nothing to do with the new one. Good. Fucking. Bye.”

As I said the last word, I stormed out, leaving Mae Bae Lynn and Gemma, along with everyone else in the cafe, speechless. I felt soooo empowered. Then I went home and watched Netflix and ate Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups all night. Like I said, it was a tough day, but I, Anne Gus, got through it…I always do.

So yeah, whether or not you would fuck Hitler is basically a litmus test on whether you’re a good woman or a prude. Which one are you? Have at it, girls. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

More From Thought Catalog