I Am Not The Captain In Charge Of Male Virtue Protection

So, Elizabeth Edwards was on Oprah yesterday talking about John Edwards infidelity- I didn't see it, because I don't watch Oprah- but I saw this clip on Jez, wherein she basically puts all the blame on the woman he cheated on her with.

Isn't that always the way? Now, I can understand that she's pissed- but I'm so not down with this whole idea that women are supposed to be the sacred guardians of men's moral compasses or any shit like that. This totally reminds me of how I used to get in trouble in class for things the boys got away with. Double standards= ick. I'm sorry, but it's up to the person who made the commitment to uphold it, not someone who doesn't know your ass. Really, when the situation is turned around, it's not like people get all "Oh my god, how could he do that to another man! He's so evil! Evil evil evil! He's just scum!" about things- no, they're just like "Yeah, he was a dude. He wanted to get some. Big shocker." And even if he is blamed a little, he's hardly going to be villified to the degree a woman is. It's just not the same level of "evil." Evil in men is violence. In woman it's sexuality.

I think there are a couple reasons for this- things that go back to the Bible and Greek myths and all that other shit. I don't especially feel like going into them at this time- but there are a shit ton of stories involving vaginas being the fall of empires and such.

This is all kind of a sore-ish subject for me, to be honest. I'm pretty much on the verge of becoming a political lesbian- mostly because this whole "Oh, you're evil!"/ "Oh, I feel like such a bad person for liking you!" followed by the inevitable "Wow, hanging out with you has totally helped me find myself, and realize that what I really do want in life is the whole Horatio Alger/Norman Rockwell dream" thing is really starting to piss me the fuck off. Like, it's just not cute anymore. It's the same thing, over and over and over again. Blechh. I'm so not evil. I'm probably more fiercely devoted to my own moral code than anyone you could meet, so there.

I've also always attracted quite a bit of attention from men who are not exactly single. I have no interest in this, not because of any moral compunctions so much as they tend to be really annoying as people. Like, seriously, they tend to be looking for free therapy more often than not. Plus, I have no interest in the tales of your very delicate girlfriend whom you aren't exactly in love with but cannot bear to break the heart of by breaking up with her. Because she'd die without you. Ew. They just tend to think they're way more awesome than I think they are, and I find that irritating.

Funny story though, I'm far less suited for that sort of thing than one would think- mostly because I've got a mouth, balls of steel, and have a tendency towards vendettas. This one time, I'd been seeing this dude- did not know he had a girlfriend, but he did. Of two years. I thought I was probably too good for him to begin with, and I pretty much avoided him after that because he just wasn't worth the drama. Besides, I hate dishonesty. Still, dude wouldn't leave me alone- because he thought we were soulmates, and it was driving me up the damned wall.

SO... one day I see him out at this bar with his now fiancee (yeah, because by then they were totally engaged. Ha!), and I acted all super friendly and pretended I didn't know that they were together, and so I whipped out my cell phone and did this whole "Oh my gosh, you would not believe the messages this guy sends me! Hilarious! But seriously, I'm worried for my pet rabbit!" schtick right in front of him. And I promise you, the messages were rather special. I am hilarious. What else would I do? Protect him? Leave the bar? Go into a corner and feel awkward? Please. I have one rule- if someone in a room has to feel like shit, I'm going to make damn sure it isn't me.

Ok, I'm done kvetching. I leave you with my favorite song about affairs and whatnot:



Seriously, favorite thing ever.

Did I tell you about Andy Wang?

Andy Wang is totally my soulmate. It's true. I don't actually know him, but I found his name tag last week when I went to Hub 51 with the ladies from work for a birthday celebration (by the way- best motherfucking carrot cake ever. In the history of carrot cake. And I don't even normally like carrot cake all that much! In fact, I'd say it's the best cake ever period.). Being a festive lady, I decided to wear it for the rest of the evening, thus causing much ado over the fact that people who did not know me or Mr. Wang were still pretty sure that I was not in fact... Andy Wang. Which I totally could have been. Andy can be a girls name (like in Pretty in Pink), and I could totally be married to a guy with that last name. Or I could be an Asian man in disguise, like, uh, that song "Secret Asian Man." You never know.

Anyway, finding the nametag was totally the highlight of the evening. The next night I went to The Old Town Ale House for a Jezzie meet-up in honor of the naked painting of Sarah Palin (I totally have the shirt now), and while searching for cigarettes in my bag, found the name tag again. I put it on in hopes of having even more nametag related fun and frivolity. Which I totally did, because the best way to make new awesome friends is to wear the name tag of someone you clearly are not. Especially when your particular measurements cause any and all nametags to look patently hilarious on you.

But this is the best part! This guy comes up to me and says "You're not Andy Wang!" And I say "How do you know, because I totally could be." and he says "No, you're not. I know Andy, he works for me!" Which, I was totally enthralled by, as was the rest of the bar. And so we actually tried to call him from there but he was on his way back to NYC on a plane. So sad. But I think someday I will run into him again, and I will give him back his name tag and we will fall in love. Probably not. But how funny would that be?

Ahoy!

1. Weird! So the night before last, I had a dream that I went to go get a haircut, but ended up at this firefighting school, and I joined because I wanted to spite this girl I did not like that I don't know in my waking life. Yeah, I'm petty in my dreams too. Anyway, last night, I saw my dear friend Lindy, who gave me a glorious, glorious belated birthday present! Three super creepy looking firefighter knicknacks (with hoses and also drills) from the dollar store. See, Lindy knows me. She understands my deep love for things that are terrible. But isn't that spooky? I would think it was if I believed in that crap. However, I LOVE them. And what I love even more is that it is a possibility that someone else probably bought them thinking "Gosh! Aren't these darling! They would look lovely on my mantle!" and not because they are hilarious. I will place them on my bureau next to One-Arm Juanita. They will be like her children.

2. Am quite hungover. We went to Danny's last night, and I made a new friend who has the same name as my dad! Who at first thought I was a drag queen! And then we sang Smell Yo Dick and a variety of Judy Garland tunes, and discussed Mr. Darcy complexes and Catherine MacKinnon. And then we went to Estelle's- which was probably not the best idea ever, but was in fact a good time. I will be hungover again tomorrow, however, because...

3. Am going out to night to hang out with my friends from the interwebs! It's true! All the Jezebel commenters from Chicago are meeting up tonight at a bar in Andersonville. And it will be glorious and snarky.

4. Purple Jeans. I want them to exist in my wardrobe, but they keep looking wrong/being too big in the damn calves. American Apparel apparently only thinks people with cankles want skinny purple jeans, which is not true and I am a prime example of this. Not fair. I have dreams!

5. Oh! I also found people last night who were familiar with this, the greatest thing that ever happened to NY Public Access. I love the sense that this song does not make. It makes my life, and if for some reason I have not shared it with you, I apologize.

Were sluts and feminists responsible for V.Tech shootings...

Duh!

(oh, also check out this post at Echidne of the Snakes for more of Camille Paglia's ridiculousness)

I don't even know where to begin. It's kind of extra special that she quotes Camille Paglia (Well known for her feelings on circumstances where women "deserve" rape, and how feminists refuse to understand how rape and gang rape can be "fun" for men")

I find that this is not an unpopular sentiment. I wrote a piece once- a letter to a man who had hollered at me from his car, and when I ignored him, he pulled over, then got out of the car and screamed "I just want to talk to you! Come back here! You fucking bitch!"- and a lot of the criticism I heard from that was very similar to this article. That "this poor guy" just wanted to talk to me, and that I shouldn't have been so cold to him. Now, I was pretty horrified to hear that. First of all, because we learn as kids not to get into anyone's car, and that talking to strangers is probably not the best idea. I've also had a number of stalkers, which I've written about quite a bit. And the scariest thing about that, is that I always end up hearing the "Oh, the poor guy! He just liked you and didn't know how to go about it!" line.

This is wrong. There is this "I am a man. If I want a woman I should be able to drag her by her hair into my cave" mentality among men that doesn't seem to be going away. Even on a conscious level, there are a lot of men who cannot seem to grasp this concept:

1. Women have a right to not like you, date you, or fuck you.
2. Women have a right to like, date and fuck men who are not you.
3. Women have a right to be attractive or sexy- which you may find appealing- and still, they don't have to like, date, or fuck you.
4. You do not have the right to fuck any woman you want, because she has a goddamned say in the matter.

It's not that hard. But I think they're socialized to think that. I mean, hypothetically, say there's some guy who I liked who doesn't like me back, I wouldn't get all vicious call him a cold-hearted asshole. That wouldn't be my first instinct- I would probably say "Man, that's a sucky situation." But if some guy likes me and I'm not interested? I am a mean, selfish, cold-hearted bitch- and of course, a whore because there are other men I am interested in. This, I think, is the primary root of misogyny. (Some) Men believe that women deny them a basic human right by not doing them, and as a result, they have the right to act violently against us.

Fuck that shit.

Why I am about to start throwing things, or... Back the fuck up off my vag.

Ok, I have just absolutely fucking had it. Every single day I read an article or see something on TV about how desperately concerned people are about the "whores." Oh my god they're unmarried! Oh my god they're having sex! Oh my god they're tempting otherwise pure and virginal men with their slutty ways!

And then, today, I turn on the TV and there is Tyra Banks with a special on "Do guys really like promiscuous girls?" (complete with the Nelly Furtado song playing in the background, mind you). So there are all these girls on stage talking about how (oh my god.) they have sex. Tyra acts all concerned. Then, they bring on a bunch of guys who say things like "Yeah, well, we might sleep with you, but we wouldn't want you raising our children and we're not going to respect you" and blah blah blah. Then, they take aside the one girl that was raped when she was younger (because, as we know, women don't fuck because they like it, they do it because they're damaged) and make her cry. Because she's been a whore, but she can repent!

Can I just tell you- I live for the day where they take a bunch of men, throw them on a talk show and express concern for their sexual practices and tell them they're whores- and that what they are doing would be ok if they were women. Oh, and bring a bunch of women on the show too to tell them "Well, I might sleep with you, but I wouldn't want you raising my children and I won't respect you." And then make them cry. I fucking live for it.

I live for the day a teenage boy is taken on a talk-show because he's slept with too many girls.

I live for the article expressing concern about the effect unmarried sex will have on men (other than the "women need to stop being dirty whores so the men can stay pure" argument).

I live for a book called "She's just not that into you." Because man, do I know some fella's who could use that one.

I live to hear about the sex-ed class where girls are asked to raise their hands if they would like to marry a virgin (Yeah, there was an article recently about a sex-ed teacher in Washington who had all the boys in the class raise their hands if they wanted to marry a virgin- and of course they all did. And of course she turned to the girls and said "See!")

I also live for the television show featuring a fat woman and her supermodel husband.

I'm just so, so tired of it. First of all, all this shit contributes to those absurd delusions of grandeur men have about every woman wanting to marry them. Because, let me tell you, there is nothing more irritating and offensive than a guy you can barely tolerate for one night acting as though you're secretly trying to rope him into a lifetime of matrimonial bliss. If anything, in my life, men have always been the ones who get all relationship-y on my commitment-phobic ass- so really, I think this particular idea needs to be put to rest.

There is no longer any reason for women to be so desperately concerned about what men might think of them. I'm sorry, but we no longer live in a world where we cannot survive without them- and hell, we're proving it by *not* marrying them- look at the statistics. It's not their ball game any more. So no- they no longer get their cherished double standard of "men can fuck whomever they want and be "studs" and a woman who does it is dirty whore." Because we're not going along with it any more, no matter how many talkshows there are about it, or how many articles in the National Review. Hah.