Men Don’t Get It. Perhaps They Never Will.

Women are born looking over their shoulders. Know why? YOU. Your gender has some really bad actors and I think it’s time the good ones start telling the bad ones to stop their shit and go the fuck away.

We get catcalled. We get touched, all the time, when we don’t ask to be. You wouldn’t touch your guy friends like you try to touch me. Keep your damn hands to yourself, and don’t be offended if I scream at you to keep your damn hands to yourself. You are not allowed to touch me, ever, especially if I met you five minutes ago. And don’t act like it’s “cute” if I tell you to stop touching me. STOP, or I AM going to hurt you. Bad. I used to tolerate a lot of this bullshit but I am older and wiser now, and I WILL hurt you. I might be the exception that proves the rule, but dude, you will learn. Also, keep your damn hands to yourself.

We get called a “fat bitch” if some jackhole on OKCupid hits us up for a hookup and we don’t comply. (I will never understand this one; you wanted to fuck me RIGHT UP until I told you no. NOW I’m a fat bitch? Sweetheart, I didn’t change in the ten minutes it took you to figure out I wouldn’t fuck you).

We were raised from the time we could remember to watch out for men, don’t get in situations where you can get in trouble, always watch your back. Not ONE man I’ve ever met has experienced or understands this. WE HAVE BEEN TOLD TO BE WARY OF YOU BECAUSE WE NEED TO BE. ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.

You “good” men need to start leaning on the “bad” men. You want to know why I won’t tell you where I live, and why I meet you in a public place? You’ve got a lot of bad actors in your gender. Why I had a setup with my girlfriend to call me in an hour as a “check in/date ender?” bad actors. Why I don’t reply to your “blank” profile and you’re oh-so-witty “how r u” messaging (okay, really, that’s because you’re illiterate and can’t bother to read a profile and compose a complete sentence, but still) because I’m not stupid and all you want is a hookup.

I’ve given up online dating for all of these reasons, and frankly, I’m done. If I meet you IRL and we click, great. But online dating today, and a lot of men in general, are complete mysogynistic assholes, and I’m not having it.

And in real life, you idiots might want to consider that a) some of us have martial arts training and b) some of us are packing iron.

Also, grow up. Would your mother approve of your bullshit?

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The Prince is Dead.

Well, I’ve lost the first major icon of my teenage years. Prince died yesterday. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this one.

When Purple Rain came out, my sister, a year and a half younger than me, REALLY wanted to see it. Our parents were willing to let us have the car to go to the theater. I wasn’t really interested, but in a rare show of older sibling nicety, I said, “Okay, we’ll go see it.”

And we did. I was blown away. BLOWN AWAY. Little did my sister know she had catapulted me into a love affair with an artist that would overshadow the last of my teens and my early twenties.

Prince had a lot to say, and in my impressionable 18-20’s  a lot of it really resonated with me. I began looking up his older stuff as well as anticipating new stuff – I loved him. I had Prince posters all over my room, which irritated my fairly racist father, but he never actually MADE me take them down, so I think that was a big step for him.

I got to see Prince in Detroit when he did his Purple Rain tour, and he was phenomenal. I’m so thankful I did that.

I lost touch with Prince’s music in my mid to late twenties, but I still loved his older stuff. And now that I’ve heard of his passing I’m feeling oddly emotional, and I suspect that’s because a piece of my young adulthood has died with him.