Greetings from Brasil! It's hot. It's muggy. But it's beautiful.
But enough blather. It's time to get serious here.
Because it’s time for a good old-fashioned rant.
My cousin and her boyfriend both offered to take me out to dinner yesterday evening. We went, wined, dined, and then the bill came. My cousin reached into her wallet.
"What are you doing?" I said before I could stop myself.
"It's my night to pay," she replied somewhat bregudingly with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
You guys, I must have been living under a rock for the past God-knows-how-many-years to be asking this, but when the HELL was it okay for women to start picking up the tab?!
And let me just say to tall the Crazy!Feminists out there to put their flaming bras and spiked tampons down, because what I am about to say is going to seriously offend a lot of people. Deal with it. It’s my blog.
Women are the reason for our fucked up society.
I apologize if I sound misogynistic (well, actually, I DON’T apologize), but there you have it. Women have ruined us. More specifically? Crazy!Feminists. Now, let me just interject and say that when I say Crazy!Feminists, I mean Crazy!Feminists. There are feminists out there who are absolutely lovely and fantastic, intelligent people whom I adore. Those kind of feminists carry the torch for Mary Wolstoncraft and Margaret Sanger, preach equality on a justicial level, but believe the Women are Ladies and Men are Gentleman.
On the contrary, Crazy!Feminists preach that Men Are Copy Machines, that Men Are Dogs, that Women Are the Stronger Sex. And in a sense, the Crazy!Feminists are right on the last one.
We are the Stronger Sex in the sense that we shape society. We raise children. And how we raise them affects how they behave. True, there are some children who are just bad apples in families boasting six wonderfully raised children but more often than not, thousands of statistics demonstrate poor child-rearing.
Yes, child-rearing should be a joint effort. But let’s face it—the majority is the mother’s job. Excuse me if I’m old-fashioned, but we weren’t nearly as fucked up fifty years ago when it was so as we are now, are we?
But I digress slightly.
I can’t believe the number of women picking up the tab in dates or going Dutch!
Mind you, if the women are happy with this state of affairs, more power to them, but the majority that I have encountered that do so are stark-raving pissed or at the very least irritated with doing so. Then they go on about how Men Are Cheap and I-don’t-know-what-else. But whose fault is it?
Crazy!Feminism.
Men and women will NEVER be equal. Get used to it.
I’m not speaking on intellectual levels here mind you. There are plenty of women that are far more intelligent than some men. And there are plenty of men that are far more intelligent than some women. But biologically speaking, WE ARE DIFFERENT.
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard women go on and on and on about how they can do whatever they want and they can sleep with whomever they want because They Are Woman Hear Them Roar and then when the man they slept with on the first date leaves, they cry about how men are horrible, how men are players.
Newsflash. They’re players, too. Except that society deems them as sluts, so they feel horrible.
I was absolutely floored when one day I was walking along side a girl chatting on her cell phone and a gentleman opened the door for us. She immediately stopped talking on her phone, turned to him with a disgusted look and said “I can get it myself”.
And then women wonder why men don’t treat us well.
But not me. NOT me. Because when I’m struggling to get my carry-on into the over-head compartment of an airplane I can see that there are men looking at me apprehensively, wondering “should I help or is she going to bite my head off?”
At which point I look at them nicely and say “excuse me, I seem to be having some trouble with my bag”. And even before I can ask “would you mind terribly if you got up and helped me?”, two or three men stand up at once and scramble to help me.
Another time, I was sitting down at a bar next to an attractive woman. Next to her, was an equally attractive (!) man, who asked to buy her a drink.
“What, you think I can’t get it on my own?” she snapped.
The man was so shocked he didn’t say anything. The woman got up and walked away in a huff, and to solely for the point of saving the poor attractive man from embarrassment (solely), I chirped “I’ll take it!”
The man, Kevin, who has become one of my dear friends, and I got to talking, and, as I sipped my Sour Apple, he asked, “did that sound like a come on?”
To which I replied, “no, it actually sounded very similar to asking whether you could buy her a drink…strange.”
Of course, I took into consideration the fact that maybe she didn’t find him attractive (though I highly doubt it, seeing as he’s signed with Ford and Elite as a model) and of course, I took into consideration that she may have been waiting for a boyfriend, but NOTHING excuses the harsh manner in which she snapped him.
You see? Women shape society. We shape the way we want men to act. If all women suddenly stopped taking crap from men, stopped going out with men that did ANYTHING LESS than treat them like PRINCESSES, there would be a thousand (if not more) times more gentlemen out there.
Not to say that men are getting off scot-free. Of course, mothers raise their sons, and of course, mothers can teach them that they MUST treat women like Ladies and pay for them until the COWS COME HOME. There comes an age when everyone must make their own decisions, and yes, there are some real scum bags out there that sing and agree with the Crazy!Feminist song.
These men, are not real men. They’re pussies. And what women would want to date a pussy when she clearly already has one?
…unless she’s a lesbian. In which case it would just be fine and dandy to be dating another pussy. And on a slight side-note, I really don’t know which one would pay in homosexual relationships…
Either way, we’re talking about heterosexual relationships now, and men that praise the Crazy!Feminist ideal are PUSSIES. They want equality? They’ll have it if they PAY. You know why?
Because we women who take pride in our appearance (women who already have perfected our personalities
) spend money to do so. There are VERY few women out there, and I say this with love, that can do absolutely nothing with their hair or face or nails or skin or ANYTHING and still look radiant. I would know. I’m one of the 99.9% of women who AREN’T PERFECT, GO FIGURE.
Anyway, our appearance, believe it or not, takes money.
Here’s an example:
I went out on a date with this guy last year who had split the bill. He handed it to me and said “here’s your half”.
I stared at the paper blankly, and then back up at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Well,” I began, furrowing my brow in confusion (I really was confused though, I thought he was a Gentleman), “I’m a Lady.”
“…yes…yes you are. One of the many reasons I chose to ask you out.” Here he smiled and continued to fish out his wallet.
I put my hand on his wrist and looked at him as gently as possible. “As a Lady, I would like to be treated as such. The meal was wonderful. But as you said, you chose to ask me out.”
He laughed and went back to his wallet and took my bill. “Okay, I’ll pay this time—”
“No, no. I don’t pay.”
He froze. “Well…I’m not…do you just not have enough money, or—”
“No, I have plenty. I just would like this relationship to be equal.” Here he opened his mouth to speak but I stopped him. “My appearance is costly. I pay equally in this relationship.”
And, of course, trying to be smooth, he told me that I didn’t need anything to be beautiful and that instead of spending money on trying to be so, I should spend it on food.
“Okay.”
The next day, I was scheduled for a wax for my legs. I cancelled. I set aside my flat iron, my blow dryer, all my expensive hair care products, took off my nail polish, which resulted in this disgusting orange color, and went sans make-up. I didn’t even put on a bra with my cheaply made dress.
When it came time for our next date, I showed up at the door exactly like this.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said in disbelief. “Come on, you MADE yourself look bad.”
And I nearly cried, not because I looked absolutely hideous, but because this was about to be fucking hilarious.
“You wanted it to be equal. You wanted me to not use any expensive products, and completely ignore my appearance. Here I am.”
“Come on, this is ridiculous, get dressed.”
“I AM dressed! Cheaply! If you want, though, you can cover my other expenses and I’ll buy the food. Because this relationship is supposed to be equal, remember?” I pointed out.
But he shook his head. “No. I refuse to believe that with me paying for every dinner and ever date that we have here on out that you will spend as much as me—”
“See my hair?” I pointed at the dull, frizzy bush on my head. “Do YOU want to pay for my $100 hair dryer? How about my $125 hair straightener? Because NOTHING CHEAPER WORKS FOR MY HAIR.”
“I don’t believe—”
“Or how about my products I use for my hair when I just want to leave it curly? Do YOU want to pay for my $12 shampoo, my $20 conditioner and my $28 leave-in treatment, each of which I purchase once a month?”
“Okay, well—”
“Remember how you told me you’ve never encountered a girl who smelled as wonderfully as I did? $85 Valentino! And for the record? That comment was creepy. How about my underwear you thought was so sexy? I probably have more than $500 worth of lingerie, my dear—which I bought ON SALE.”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“But you liked it! How about my legs?” I presented him my spiky calves. “Do you find this attractive? You can pay for my wax, which, by the way? Is $80 every month!”
“Just shave!”
“I’m ALLERGIC. My nails? $30 every two weeks. That’s $60 a month. My skin? Costs me $70. And don’t even get me started on my make-up.”
Long story short? He never called me back.
But my boyfriend now? Is a Real Man. He is AMAZING. He treats me like a PRINCESS. I have NEVER had to pay for a THING, and I have NEVER had to even ASK or MENTION the fact that I am a Lady.
I, in turn, though, treat him like a KING. Because men should not be the only ones having to pay, in a sense.
We pay, too. In different ways.
He comes home, exhausted from three-hour Judo practice and I have already run him a bath. He’s hungry and feels like staying home? I cook for him WHATEVER HE WANTS. At random, I will go out and buy things to refurbish his room that he off-handedly commented was off-colour and messy. When he’s had a long day? I get him a beer and give him a well-deserved foot rub (with socks on, though, because judo feet are really quite disgusting). And don’t even get me started on what I do for him in the bedroom.
In nearly a year of dating, we have never had a fight. We may have had disagreements. But nothing has ever resulted in either of us being angry or even irritated at each other. Because we have equality, and we have an understanding of that equality.
Because here’s the thing, Crazy!Feminists. By paying 50/50 or picking up the tab, you’re violating your own ideal for equality by taking on more, and that, I believe, is worse than the repression of our rights.
So go ahead and do the Original Feminists a favour, and go back to what equality really meant.
End of Rant.
Outraged
Lazy
Llama
Adoration
