Sometimes, I don’t like women. They irritate me. I think they are double-faced and hypocritical at worst, and mindlessly confused at best.
Most times they don’t know what they want - from themselves, the world, life in general, etc.; So obviously, they don’t know what they want from men they are involved with. Given that, they have an awful lot to complain about.
(If you don’t know what you want, how do you know you are not getting it?)
First of all, there is a very strong truth to the idea that you teach people how to treat you. So, if a man doesn’t respect a woman, she must step back and think: ‘What have I done that made it acceptable for him to treat me that way?’ But no. Why should there be any kind of intelligent introspection? It’s just easier to call men dogs, liars, cheats, bastards, scums, etc.
I mean, who gets involved with married men and not expect complications? Forget about moral rectitude and all that, but just the brainlessness of it. The man is lawfully wedded to someone, he is one step away from attracting criminal liability with his actions, he deceives, keeps things under wraps, hems and haws like a see-saw...and the woman generally has the notion that he is supposed to brighten up her life? Yep. The man is this, that, and the other. And it is all his fault. Because he dangled like a tempting forbidden fruit and how can one use the good sense to not complicate matters, right?
Where exactly is the empowerment in passing the buck? How can anyone who is reasonably mindful of that pseudo-stockinged term ‘liberation’ not even THINK that maybe, just maybe, she has brought it on to herself. Somewhere between the scumbag inhabiting the crevices in a urinal and later becoming an intrinsic part of a woman’s life, she made a choice. To want him and have him. She chose to be where she is.
And suddenly, when he is wrapped all around her like a public-toilet stench, there begins the rant - all men are d***, all men are ch****. Well, if they are, then it was a perfect match, wasn’t it?
Also, for all that vapid vehemence, one would think that women look down upon men. That becomes a muddled mess when you witness how clingy, desperate, and needy they become for a man. Of course, the men never know that because the women are always strong and in-control in front of them. But once the guys are out of sight, and once those women are in the company of other women, all that wailing neediness pours out. Why? Why must you inflict the very worst of your self, that immensely annoying pitiable state on another one of your kind? Oh wait, because birds of a feather, etc. etc.
There is this seminal piece of sociological literature on the trends of urban womanhood. It’s called ‘Sex and the City’. There are unnerving insights on what it is to be educated, employed, rich, maybe good-looking, urban, and woman. In short, what all that makes you is immensely avoidable.
It’s very easy to dismiss off ‘Sex and the City’ as garbage. It is probably that, but personally, I have seen some merit in the way it has catalogued and profiled certain mindsets. But even if it is trash, one may need to think - where does trash come from? From something that was good, wholesome and useful at one time, right?
Earning a paycheck is like a license to gloat and bull-doze over other people’s feelings. It becomes an arena to belittle those who do not earn money - such as maybe a partner who is studying or a friend who has decided to stay at home after having children or a sister who decides to not go back to work because she wants to enjoy marital bliss.
Then there is this whole charade of how a woman is in control of her own body, how virginity is for the wall-flowers, and it’s some sort of a championship victory if you lay so and so. When does one become that way? If you bloody smoke and drink and eat like a glut and don’t have the basic awareness of shutting your face when you are full or becoming anorexic, you have the cheek to say you are ‘in control’ of your body? Why? Just because you have had sex so many times with so many people? THAT’S the bottom-line of being in charge of your sexuality?
Then there is that trembling mirage - the marriageable age. That’s akin to global warming, when steadily, seemingly imperceptibly, something inside a woman melts - namely the brain, and then the spine. And then, when they are all wishy-pulpy-washy, they can’t stand themselves (who can blame them). So, who is responsible for this unfortunate state of affairs? Men. And then ‘SOCIETY’. Suddenly, one hears a lot of talk about ‘social conditioning’ and how there is this ‘pressure’ to marry. I mean, you were educated enough to know how to take charge of yourself. You learnt how to read and write and drive and swim. You learnt to hold your own against the world, you learnt to alienate your family for a career, you learnt to peddle your brains and brawns with the best. And then, as you get closer to using the fulcrum of all this, suddenly, you decide to go phut! Because of some imaginary societal pressure which would rather not get in the way of anything so cantankerous, negative, waspy, and bitter.
There is an elaborate web of how the ‘society’ wants women to marry, but the truth is that they want to get hitched. Badly. If a woman is naïve enough to be honest to admit this, she is regressive. If a woman is tough enough to genuinely decry this, she is a hypocrite.
It’s pathetic how many words a 30 something woman will waste to go over an incident of how a man looked at her so or talked on the phone like that. And after all that talk, they’ll turn around and say ‘Oh! Men are so blah!’
Really? Would’ve been more believable if the drool didn’t dribble down the coral-pink lips.
Women then go on this trip of male bashing and yet make male behaviour their yardstick for right and wrong. Adultery is more acceptable because men do it. Avarice is appealing because men are that way. Superficiality is a good place to be because it has served men well. How can you denounce something that you obsess over so much?
With such crippling complexities, did women really need men to make life miserable? They managed to suck in the rot by themselves pretty well.
Suffice to say, women tire me. I don’t like them. And I don’t like men either. They are worse than women because they are boring. It’s so useless to get riled.
I only like babies. They are uncomplicated. Sure, they need you to survive, but catch them admitting that. No. They will howl and wail and give a LOUD cry to make you attend to them. That’s the spirit! You ought to consider yourself lucky to be washing my poop.
And then there is the heartwarming gurgle. Simple, genuine, and unaffectated.
I wish I could move to another planet with all the golu babies and then, in a show of triumph, wave a red and white spotted diaper to this stupid Universe of women and men.
And to think, it takes such nincompoops to make babies in the first place.