Being Garulous
I am not distinctly impressed with the female gender, as a whole. I would just like to state, for the proverbial record that is being kept (either, depending on your religious or ideological leanings, by God or by the Universe, or time itself or whatever), that I don’t think women are the best thing to ever happen to men.
I don’t hate women, as a sex, either. I bear no grudge against an individual just for having internal genitalia. That’s completely cool with me, that you are, in fact, female.
I just don’t . . . Overtly care, anymore. “Oh, wow, you’re a girl? Wow, that’s so awesome, and supersweet and stuffage! Whee”—No, no, that is not me. I am not one to falsify interest entirely based on any sort of personal attraction toward the idea of womankind.
Looking back at my life, I can almost positively say that the vast majority of any kinds of relationships that have fucked me over have been with a woman, or girl. As a male, my relationships with other males have all been rather simple and easy, enjoyable for their qualities despite lacking in extreme emotional closeness and yadda, yadda, blah, blah.
I try not to be bitter, or become misogynistic about it; it is hard. Part of me—that forever-bitter cynic—craves the rage and indignation of a lifetime full of women treating me like shit. And, I won’t lie, I do find myself (or others find me) saying more disparaging things about the entire female gender more often than the male one, and here is why: you will find men going on and on about how great women are much more often than you will find women prattling on about the qualities of men.
Why is this? It’s probably because of several reasons . . . Women just aren’t as obsessed with men as men are with women; men aren’t that extremely awesome of a gender, anyway; and, furthermore, societal stigma dictates that women are to be self-centered and self-absorbed in regards to sexual or romantic interactions and to not extend compassion nor admiration out toward their partner, instead expecting one-sided adulation with no obligatory reciprocation. Such is the world.
No, men aren’t that great, but . . . Neither are women, really. That is what it comes down to for me: I’ve just gotten to a point where I don’t care what sex you are when I meet you, because I know there is an equal chance that you suck no matter how soft and bouncy your chest may be. Whatever.
I’m tired of men who praise women as Goddesses and angels and mistresses of eternity or whatever overblown, hyperbolic metaphor they feel like making. I really have no capacity to listen to another guy go on about how a girl or girls are just so super, so spiffy, so nifty and extra-keen, gee-golly, gosh-darn swell (with gumdrops and lollipops and rainbows sprouting out of their asses).
Just. Can’t. Care.
I don’t hate women, as a sex, either. I bear no grudge against an individual just for having internal genitalia. That’s completely cool with me, that you are, in fact, female.
I just don’t . . . Overtly care, anymore. “Oh, wow, you’re a girl? Wow, that’s so awesome, and supersweet and stuffage! Whee”—No, no, that is not me. I am not one to falsify interest entirely based on any sort of personal attraction toward the idea of womankind.
Looking back at my life, I can almost positively say that the vast majority of any kinds of relationships that have fucked me over have been with a woman, or girl. As a male, my relationships with other males have all been rather simple and easy, enjoyable for their qualities despite lacking in extreme emotional closeness and yadda, yadda, blah, blah.
I try not to be bitter, or become misogynistic about it; it is hard. Part of me—that forever-bitter cynic—craves the rage and indignation of a lifetime full of women treating me like shit. And, I won’t lie, I do find myself (or others find me) saying more disparaging things about the entire female gender more often than the male one, and here is why: you will find men going on and on about how great women are much more often than you will find women prattling on about the qualities of men.
Why is this? It’s probably because of several reasons . . . Women just aren’t as obsessed with men as men are with women; men aren’t that extremely awesome of a gender, anyway; and, furthermore, societal stigma dictates that women are to be self-centered and self-absorbed in regards to sexual or romantic interactions and to not extend compassion nor admiration out toward their partner, instead expecting one-sided adulation with no obligatory reciprocation. Such is the world.
No, men aren’t that great, but . . . Neither are women, really. That is what it comes down to for me: I’ve just gotten to a point where I don’t care what sex you are when I meet you, because I know there is an equal chance that you suck no matter how soft and bouncy your chest may be. Whatever.
I’m tired of men who praise women as Goddesses and angels and mistresses of eternity or whatever overblown, hyperbolic metaphor they feel like making. I really have no capacity to listen to another guy go on about how a girl or girls are just so super, so spiffy, so nifty and extra-keen, gee-golly, gosh-darn swell (with gumdrops and lollipops and rainbows sprouting out of their asses).
Just. Can’t. Care.
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
11:07 AM
2 Comments:
I agree with most of what you said. Women aren't great, neither are men. I think it all comes down to the fact that we're all people, and people as a general thing, pretty much suck.
katie
On a random aside, that little lukewarm rant was actually isnpired because Steve Bennette's (sp) spiel about how beautiful and perfect women are at CNUcon was brought up in conversation, that twenty minute long explanation he had about why he didn't ever want to depict a dead woman. I just remember walking around the crowd of people in the lobby and thinking to myself, "What is wrong with this man? Does he not listen to what comes out of women's mouths, sometimes? Hillary Clinton! Hillary Clinton!"
Too many men nowadays will sit around and talk about how great women, in general, are, mostly because they think it impresses girls. Blah.
Post a Comment
<< Home