Thursday, January 31, 2019

Fifty Shades of Stupid

The letter writer in yesterday’s Ask Polly column, in New York Magazine is so stupid it takes your breath away. Naturally, Polly doesn’t have the least clue about what is wrong, because Polly offers the same advice no matter what. So, add one stupid to the 50 shades exposed by a woman who calls herself Eating Lasagna Alone Forever.

Of course, this blog does not exist to regale the world with idiocy. It exists to expose hidden truths. This time, the truth is so flagrant that it smacks you in the face. Of course, Polly misses the point, but what were you expecting?

ELAF is a rabid feminist. She is an uncompromising zealous fanatical aggressively hostile feminist. She wakes up every morning and douses herself with her favorite fragrance, Essence of Man Repellent. Somehow or other, it works. She repels men, except for those who are willing to partake of the only thing she is offering: free love.

She finds men. She has sex with them, with dozens as it happens. And she is still alone. She cannot figure it out. Score one for stupid.

But, score one also for the truth about radical feminism. It is not designed to produce loving caring relationships with men. It is designed to protect women from any and all relationships with men… good, bad and indifferent. But, since women have their needs— did we need feminism to tell us that?— these women do insist on having sex with men. To be blunt about it, if they were not giving it away for free, no man would ever want to deal with them. So, they put out, they have sex, and one suspects that they are rather accomplished at it. And then the men disappear. The men feel used because they are being used. She uses men and allows men to use her. It is not a formula for a relationship... at least not one you can take home to Mom and Dad.

If ELAF were the only woman offering free love, it would be one thing. In truth, she is making imperious demands. She will give some sex, but what she wants in return is her man’s mind. It’s a Faustian bargain. Happily enough, no men have yet taken it.

She demands that a man thinks what she wants him to think, that he toes the feminist party line. No deviations allowed. No dissent allowed. He must do exactly as she says and think exactly as she does. Here again we have a cultural symptom, a young woman who is incapable of dealing with anyone who holds to a different point of view. Otherwise she gets triggered and throws a tantrum. This becomes yet another reason for sentient males to run for the hills.

So, ELAF opens her letter by complaining about Polly. Did I forget to mention that she is a whiner? Please forgive me. Here is the evidence:

I’m sick of you accepting letters from women who are messes but have “a loving husband who always supports my decisions” or women who are in perfect relationships but are haunted by guilt about their exes. We single ladies are messes without the built-in safety net of a partner, and we need your help, too — even more!

In that spirit, I write to you with my sad single-lady problems about how I can’t find the loving husband who will support all of my decisions because I am too weird and difficult (exhibit A: the above, very rude paragraph).

I think lots of people are weird, of course, and still manage to find their people, but I’m worried my particular flavor of weird is so internally contradictory that finding somebody who also embodies those clashing values and interests is nigh impossible.

So, she has no manners and no couth. She wants to find a husband who will support all of her decisions. She suspects that this makes her weird and difficult. To say the least. Polly is too nice to say so but ELAF is a pathetic fool. Weird can be charming. Difficult can be charming. Fanatical zealotry is neither.

She continues to display her feminist bona fides. She is not just a feminist, she is aggressively feminist. How many men do you know who are looking for an aggressive woman who insists on imposing her will on them.

I am aggressively feminist. It is not enough for me to date a man who doesn’t actively catcall women; I need someone who will validate me when I complain about mansplaining at work and understand that asking me to tell him what chores he needs to do his 50 percent share of is itself emotional labor that I’m not here for. I’m kinky and find vanilla sex utterly boring; I’ve tried to be more open to it, but it just doesn’t turn me on. These two things are already somewhat contradictory: someone who won’t devil’s advocate me about the gender wage gap but then finds the idea of slapping me (even consensually!) abhorrent kind of makes sense. Then on top of that, monogamy: People who are “alternative” in these ways — kink, leftist politics — also tend to reject monogamy (doubly so in the Bay Area, where I live). I do not want to be polyamorous, ethically non-monogamous, in an open relationship, monogamish, any of it. So here we have three core, relationship-foundational pieces that are already in conflict with each other.

As for her sexual proclivities and propensities, they are best ignored. It is worth noting that her peers in the Bay Area, that would be San Francisco, reject monogamy. In that case, the words we would use to describe her female friends might seem improper on such a decorous blog.

And yet, she got completely torqued over the man who did not wash his hands after relieving himself in the restroom. Why so torqued? Because, she says, telling him to wash his hands made her feel like his mother. Considering what she is putting out, what kind of man was she expecting to find? Why was she so worried about his hand-washing habits? You guessed it, or maybe you did not— because he was going to stick his fingers inside her. One assumes that she demanded it.

This romantic encounter does not register on the weird scale:

“Um, so sorry if this is weird, but I don’t think I heard the water run and then I noticed the sink was, um, dry, and I was wondering if maybe you, like, forgot to wash your hands?” My voice rising several octaves with the discomfort of having to play mother to a 31-year-old man and remind him to wash his hands after using the bathroom. Taken aback, he got defensive. “I did!” he said. And I didn’t really know what else to say so I changed the subject and asked if I could get him something to drink. We had sex and his pizza fingers were inside me and I didn’t die but I also didn’t see him again after that.

Afterward, I realized that he was the 50th person I’ve had sex with and I cried. I’ve put myself out there so many times, shared my body with so many people, tried to imagine myself loving strangers over and over again, and I’ve only been in one real actual adult relationship, and the person it was with was emotionally abusive and told me to kill myself to spare the world my craziness. Not exactly a confidence booster.

So, her number, as the saying goes, is 50. She has only had one relationship, with a man who lacked a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. Then again, she might have discovered that knowing her and trying to live up to her demands did not bring out his best.

What should she do?

She should close up shop. She should read a book called The Rules. She sounds like an aficionado of Tinder… and this sends a certain message all by itself. It does not make her feel good about herself. Feminism will tell her that these men are toxic pigs… but seriously, what does it take for her to figure out that her ideological commitments are an obstacle to getting married. That she has not yet figured that out that her serial relationship failures are to be expected speaks ill of her and of the other members of her coven. Do you honestly believe that no one, in her family and among her friends, have ever suggested that she needs to abandon her fanatical zeal and try being a real human woman?

If she refuses to listen and if she refuses to change her ways after serial failures, there is very little that anyone can do for her.


David Foster said...

"I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul"

--Bob Dylan

MikeyParks said...

Aggressive feminists have rotten personalities. Who in his right mind wants to link up with that? It would be like buying a dog that bites. She'll be fattening up on lasagna by herself for the rest of her pathetic life.

trigger warning said...

To the SF guys who have "dated" her, and others like her....

"Pssst... robots. $20,000."

whitney said...


Sam L. said...

"I do not want to be polyamorous, ethically non-monogamous, in an open relationship, monogamish, any of it." And yet, she is. As I've read a number of times, the advice to all men is "Don't stick it in crazy."

Anonymous said...

Possibly if she concentrated on the lasagna, learn to cook it from scratch and skip the rest, life would work itself out.


UbuMaccabee said...

"Weird can be charming. Difficult can be charming."

Good to know. I've passed along this sage advice to my wife. Can kinky be charming, too, or does that fall under "weird?"

"I’ve only been in one real actual adult relationship, and the person it was with was emotionally abusive and told me to kill myself to spare the world my craziness."

Odd, I had the same thought. I, too, evidently lack a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. I suspect that falls under "difficult" for me.

The wife and I have been in the kink scene for decades, and I swear this woman has been cloned 100k times over. Her type is so common and so predictable as to be ubiquitous. She is to the kink scene what mussels are to a reef. And if you walk on them with bare feet, the result is about the same the same.

I always wondered if crazy people seek kink, or kink creates crazy people? Do mean people become leftists or does leftism create mean people? Do dummies gravitate to the university, or does the university create dummies? Do people possess fully formed souls or are they naturally in embryo until it is created through effort.

Anyway, she is doomed, and there is nothing to be done except to stay clear as this consequence reaps her ideas. My entire life these days is making the effort to root out every person like this and keep them out of our business, our social life, and our parties.

They are on the other side of the wall, the zombies (Y'all know that zombie means "socialist horde," right?). When the Civil War commences, that's when she will discover her raison d'être, the significant of all those clumsy pizza fingers. She will take her rightful place, along the route, with her scowl, and her ideology, and her knitting needles, and negotiate her marriage demands to the condemned men, the enemies of the people on the tumbrel (that's about the only way she's going to get any man to "support all of my decisions"). Only then will she find true love. Good thing she is in San Francisco, among her people, among los otros.

If the Chinese invaded San Francisco tomorrow, I wouldn't lift a finger to help the denizens of that fine city. It wouldn't mean a thing to me unless they threatened to take Lake Tahoe. Since I know how the ChiComs will deal with dissent, it might prove to be a teachable moment in history. Not my problem.

Anonymous said...

Stuart, I do believe I've caught you, for the first time, projecting female thought patterns onto a man. A woman who falls for a man's line and has a one night stand may very well feel used. But a man?

When I was younger, there were three circumstances where older women convinced me or came on so strongly that I acquiesced in a sexual encounter. Two of them were one-nighters. In neither circumstance did the idea that the woman used me even pop into my head. One of the women basically disgusted me with her uncouthness; and as for the other one, I was more concerned about her feelings being hurt because I didn't call back

The third woman was a very successful PR agent who was 15 years older, so way out my league socially. We probably had ten couplings before she ended it. Clearly she used me for my 99 percentile AA stud body (For real Doc; no joke) Did I feel used? Not at all. The only negative feeling I had was that a very sweet interlude in my life had ended.

I'm Not A Robot