I'm not a feminist - in case the title didn't give it away, I fancy myself an anti-feminist; this does not mean I hate women, this doesn't mean I think we are a lesser species or we deserve fewer rights.
It does, however, mean I understand the world that we live in. I understand that the man I'm seeing is going to look at other women. I understand a man may want, from time to time, to call me his, "dirty little whore," at the appropriate time. I understand that while I type a sad excuse for a blog at nearly 3am that I miss the guy I'm thinking about.
I love women. I looooove women. I know we have a higher pain tolerance, I know we have the ability to withstand a great deal of tragedy while putting on a pretty face and I know, first hand, that we are very compassionate creatures, sometimes to a fault.
...
So cut the bullshit, ladies.
Expecting special, different treatment is just as much an injustice to ourselves as demanding equality. We wanted equal rights - this means you're going to have to hold the door once in a while.
This means you're going to be the one to pick up the check, tell him he's whatever the boy-equivalent of, "beautiful," is, initiate sex.
Be a man, ladies.
...and I don't mean make out with him for a while and then unzip your pants and put your hand on the back of his head to guide him toward the promise land.
Wait.
Yes, I do.
Own that shit. Be a bitch at work because the people you work with are sub-intelligent. Cry at the silliest TV shows because they are all-too-relatable. Be self-conscious in a dress you are NOT used to wearing and worry when he doesn't text you back.
You're a human-fucking-being.
It's not about supporting one gender over another. It's not about being super-woman, feminist, we deserve this because we have been through this... ya ya sisterhood of the traveling bullshit that sets us back much more than just living the reality of feelings and how we live.
You. Are. Human.
So. Are. Men.
Stop. Just stop.
You're making life so much more difficult than it needs to be.
I'm home. It's 3am. I have to be at work at 9am and I spent the night doing laundry, performing improv and, the best part, talking with friends...I had an amazingly good night, as usual...and I was texting him every chance I got.
Because I wanted to.
Because I'm a woman?
Because I'm a goddamn person who does what the fuck she wants to. I'm allowed to live a life that I love and also miss someone who isn't there.
This doesn't make me weak. This doesn't set us back. This just makes me a person.
Just like a woman.
Just like a man.
