I AM TEMPTED TO HATE THE WORLD BECAUSE...
I don't get girls sometimes. Girls, women, ladies, chicks, dames, hos, tramps, sluts, and the age-old damsels-in-distress... We've picked up a lot of descriptors over the millennia, but whatever the label, we kind of have to come clean: bitches be trippin'. The reason that we are, apparently, walking through life with poor coordination is that we are often fighting on opposite sides of a senseless war. Women are cruel. I'm not just talking about playground politics either. Whether in preschool, high school, early twenties, mid-life crisis time, or during a death bed confessional, the female sex is a catty bunch of "haters." What the Hell?
While it has given me a great deal of pleasure over the years to listen to and get a chuckle out of a group of latently immature femmes gossiping or spitting venom about another member of our sex, it's also a dagger to the heart. Well, maybe not heart... I don't take it that seriously. As I generally imagine these sub-women as malfunctioning droids, it's usually just my common sense and human decency that is offended. For some sick reason, women love to talk trash about their own kind. It's senseless. Of course, this sad fraction of womankind is naturally supported in its emotional superficialities by the judgmental nature of the media. How often do you find yourself temporarily blinded by the eye-piercing negativity of the magazine rack? Close-up on cellulite: Whose FAT ASS is this? Celebrities without makeup: Look how ugly this woman is. Divorces, deaths, drug addictions, mental breakdowns, etc: This woman's life is falling apart and don't you feel lucky that you aren't her?
The sadistic way we feed off someone's suffering, particularly the women of the world, is quite disgusting. Appalling. Ridiculous. Shameful! As the majority of men I know have little use for trivia, whether this be a moral choice or a biological predisposition for brass tacks philosophizing, it tends to be the female demographic that I see purchasing/reading gutter trash like Life & Style, People Magazine or, my favorite, "In Touch" (Are you, magazine. Are you?). I think it is safe to say that while men certainly have their own flaws and may be more obviously brutal or big-scheme violent-- whether in business, politics, or chest-beating bar brawls-- women are just senselessly mean.
Men often ask, "What do women want?" They say it's a mystery that will never be solved. Pft! Dudes, it's not that complicated. What women want is e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Your lady wants to be item one on your list. You will not make a decision without her in mind. You will think of her first thing in the morning and last thing at night. You will go out of your way to surprise her, make her feel special, and compliment her beauty. You will always choose her over your friends, your work, and even your own blood. Yes, she is the Goddess Divine. She requires this much from you.
Those who abide by these regulations are often referred to as "whipped." Being 'whipped' is the price a man pays for keeping his woman happy. If he doesn't, should he consider these demands a little intense, he can chose to ignore his duties. The result to this will be a woman suffering from chronic OTR and a lot of bickering and nagging over petty BS. This is strangely a result of her fear of losing you. Her one mission in life is to be loved, and when she is not given accurate attention, it sends her into an emotional tailspin. Know this: you are her everything. If you don't make her feel that she is yours, well... Good luck! The bright side is, she will rarely leave you. You probably will have to pry her clutching hands from your body. She directs the majority of her anger at her own kind-- those who would turn her man's head, steal him, or make her feel ugly or insecure. Ergo, the true answer to what a woman wants... is a Man. (I am speaking in generalities, ladies. Don't get offended).
This is the tragedy of my sex. It is truly amazing how deeply ingrained that feminine need for security and protection is. Logically speaking, as I heard some rumor that we were descended from orangutan's or something, it makes sense that our instincts work against us in a certain sense. Our bodies consistently tell us to get pregnant. Once a month, we get really, really horny (an exaggeration of our normal and healthy sexual appetite), and if we are not properly fertilized, we are punished with the Red Death. (I sincerely apologize to all male readers for that... It was unnecessary).
I don't know much about the animal kingdom, other than the fact that mountain lions are awesome, so whether or not female birds, frogs, and aardvarks get really competitive when it comes to doing the horizontal mambo, I couldn't say. However, the sexual politics of the at least mammalian species seems simple. I once watched a female giraffe at the zoo honor a male giraffe with a golden shower, which he tasted like a gentleman to determine her fertility. She passed, "presented," and they were ready to go. No drama. (Thanks to my sister for that backstage pass. It has clearly had a profound effect upon me). Monogamy isn't even a question. Animals are sluts and they give and take without jealousy. I have never seen a jilted hippo. Or giraffe.
So, we can't really blame biology totally for our manners. It's not our nature but our human nature that complicates things. In the end, human nature is nothing but the mutilation of our biological instinct through social nurturing. We form standards of living, civilizations, laws, religions, structures, not just to survive but to thrive. Man needs order because he is not as supple when it comes to combatting the elements. We joined tribes, teamed up with a virile partner, procreated, and somewhere along the way we decided to solidify things to make us feel a little safer. That girl a caveman once did doggy-style is now his "wife," whom he has marked with a sparkling diamond. This ring, which I refer to as a metallic noose non sequitur, is actually just an apology to the female, I guess, for the fact that she will now have to do many, many loads of laundry. Of course, times are changing...
In any case, a woman has to deal with the one-two punch of biology plus social suitability. She needs to have a baby to be considered a dutiful woman, and she needs a man to give it to her. This impulse is the sadistic voice that often gets us into trouble. We make bad decisions or become immediately acquiescent to potential partners' demands, be they sexual or otherwise. We stay in bad relationships, take abuse, give with no return, become sole providers, and make ourselves doormats. It's the internal need to possess the guy's best swimmers and to maintain his presence as proof that we are worthy. In addition, as the road to equality has been anything but smooth, womankind's progression from cave wench to independent woman has left some hard to reverse mental conditioning. When women couldn't work and were totally dependent on a husband for their livelihood, the alternative being embarrassing burdens to their fathers and dying an "old maid," a gal's need to be attached to a man almost as a status symbol remains in tact.
The result is quite sad, really. Women put themselves through Hell to find a partner (at least heterosexually speaking). The makeup, the manicures, the waxing, the changing their personalities, and dumbing themselves down, and burying their feelings to be more appealing to the opposite sex... It's masochism. Oftentimes, their own sense of identity pays the forfeit. Then, the fictional them gets together with a guy and starts to unwind herself from her Mummy wrap of perfection, and poor average Jose wakes up in the morning next to someone he doesn't know. "Wait, where did my girlfriend go?" She never existed pal. The player just got played.
Layered on top of this urge is womankind's-- and really all of mankind's-- inherent insecurity. Everyone's looking at the next human, comparing what they've got with what you don't. How they're better than you. How you may be better. This final ingredient in the female psyche in particular leads to that nasty competitive edge that women have. We treat each other like total sh*t. Even our friends. We are rarely happy for each other unless we ourselves are happier. I've had many of these sociopaths in my life. I've had a friend who couldn't have a good time if I was. A friend who got pissed off if I got more attention than she. I've sat beside friends and listened to them say things like, "I don't know what he's doing with her, she's not even that cute," or "She should not be wearing that bathing suit/dress/outfit." My personal favorite has always been, "So what if he's married? I don't know her," which I suppose means that 'her' doesn't exist. Seriously, WHAT the Hell?
It's really quite a pathetic display. They say men are controlled by sex, but women are too. The disease just manifests itself differently. I think the majority of the anti-feminist women out there need to take a 20 second T-O and asked themselves, "Hey, what about me?" Maybe if they did, instead of being overly focused on the universe's opinion of them, they may become invested in an exploration of themselves. If common human decency and manners hasn't convinced them to be kind, maybe a little self-respect will. If the cat women out there had a deeper sense of self and realized that they were fighting for attention from a breed of mammal that often doesn't know what she's talking about, maybe they would turn to instead of on each other. It's much easier to have a conversation with someone who speaks your language, isn't it? STOP YOUR BITCHING! Retract the claws. Stop creating imaginary enemies. Exorcize the anger from your heart and try being a good person. It tastes like sunshine.
Yes, I am tempted to hate the world...
... BUT I DON'T, BECAUSE
Over the years, I have learned how to discern sincerity from facade. I find myself surrounded by intelligent, warm-hearted, genuine, ambitious, and interesting women who make all the petty, hogwash-addicted sisters out there fade into the background. These women lead through example. They don't sink to the level of depraved and irrational judgment, because they're too busy. They have their own lives. These ladies have shaken the world and altered the structure of accepted gender roles. They are capable and not submissive to the ideals of the past.
In fact, the modern working woman often has trouble finding a suitable mate to keep up with her. She doesn't approach life with a feminist chip on her shoulder. She is still a champion of love, but she places more importance on her own sense of self, her dreams, and also values her thoughts and emotions much more than her foremothers and sometimes unfortunate contemporaries. She sticks up for herself and her fellow men and women. When heartbroken, betrayed, or confused, she turns to a sister for help instead of stabbing her in the back. When she falls in love, she loves a man as an equal and gives him the respect of her utter honesty instead of playing the role of Stepford wife, girlfriend, lover, etc. These women have your back. They consider life a collaboration and not a competition. Though their breed often seems rare, particularly in Hollywood, they are out there, playing the game of life with integrity and killing with kindness instead of misdirected malice missiles.
Sadly, there will always be insecure women, immature women, and undereducated women in the ways of social graces. The sad truth is, they will lose their own battle. They'll never know the happiness or domestic bliss they so desperately seek because it will always be tainted by their fear and mistrust. They don't find peace in love but view it rather as a threat that will be taken away at any moment-- naturally by an encroaching female. Strangely enough, it always seems that it is those capable of performing evil that are often most suspicious of it in others. They deserve our pity not our antipathy.
One wonders, why would you be with someone if you don't trust him? What do you gain by being so hateful to your own sex? The answer: nothing. They dig their own graves, even if said grave comes designed as their boyfriend's metaphorical letterman sweater or a pristine palace in Beverly Hills with the ring and the kids and the diamond tiara or whatever the f*ck. Their happiness is an illusion. Their world is comprised of cardboard cutouts. Their sense of stability is actually insecure, a fortress they designed against other human beings who actually aren't enemies at all. This is that ol' biology again-- a bitch pissing on her territory to deter intruders. Whatever. That's their problem. Either they'll grow up one day or they won't.
Yes, some women drive me nuts. Most still confuse me. They are hyper-emotional, they place importance on things that I find quite peculiar, and for some reason they believe that a purse with a bunch of letters on it-- whether C's or LV's, or DB's-- makes it better. They are very concerned with their hair and they watch Kate Hudson movies like they are accurate depictions of life. However, when all this nonsense is brushed aside, women are fantastic. Don't get me wrong, I love hanging with Mr. Coopers, and when surrounded by my non-asshole, macho brethren, it's a nice change of pace and a welcome place where I can exercise another side of my personality. But, my heart is with the ladies.
An honest, loving woman is the greatest thing on earth. When you have a tough broad fighting on your side, you need have no worries. With her heart, she will understand things you don't even need to say, offer comfort you didn't even ask for, and give you safe harbor from a world that has no compassion for anyone most of the time. Women are ambidextrous soldiers with incredible listening abilities and an immediate proficiency in maternity that makes them deep and lasting comrades.
Men will break your heart, but women will mend it. Those who have picked up on this life lesson no longer feel compelled to break each other. The reward for being superficial and ignorantly cold-hearted is isolation and resulting, inauthentic relationships-- both male and female. So, if not for humanity's sake but for your own, STOP YOUR BITCHING.