practically perfect in every way
A few months back, I was asked to participate in a debate on the topic of whether men should have to pay on dates. (I was “the feminist.”) It turned out that the male debater and I didn’t really disagree much on that topic. I said that, generally, whoever asks the other person out pays for that date, and then at some point couples generally transition into sharing costs in whatever way works for them. He was actually pretty happy to pay for first dates; he just wanted women to say thank you and to not use him. I had no problem with that.

I think he said that women should offer to pay half, knowing they’ll probably be turned down. I said, well, sometimes — but what if the other person invited you someplace really expensive? What if you agreed to a date with the guy and he spent an hour saying crazy racist shit to you and you felt like you couldn’t escape? This is what led to our real disagreement.

The male debater felt strongly that if a woman wasn’t interested in a second date, she should say so on the spot. If the man says, “Let’s do this again sometime,” the woman shouldn’t say, “Sure, great,” and then back out later. I said that that was a nice ideal, but that he should keep in mind that most women spent most of their lives living in low-level fear of physical aggression from men. I think about avoiding rape (or other violence) every time I walk home from the subway, every time there’s an unexpected knock at the door, and certainly every time I piss off an unhinged man. So, if I were on a date with a man who I felt was unbalanced, creepy, overly aggressive, or possibly violent, and he asked if I wanted to “do this again sometime,” I would say whatever I felt would avoid conflict. And then I would leave, wait awhile, and hope that letting him down politely a few days later would avoid his finding me and turning my skin into an overcoat.

The male debater was furious that I had even brought this up. He felt that the threat of violence against women was irrelevant, and that I was playing some kind of “rape card” as a debate trick. He got angrier and angrier as we argued. I also got angrier and angrier, although I worked hard to keep speaking in a calm and considered way. He was shouting and cutting me off when I tried to speak. I pointed out that the debater himself was displaying exactly the sort of behavior that would make me very uncomfortable on a date. THAT made him livid.

He then called me “passive-aggressive.”

I was genuinely taken aback. “Actually,” I said, “I call this ‘behaving myself.’” It’s a lot of work to stay calm when you’re just as furious as the other person, and that other person is shouting at you. I felt that I was acting like a grownup — at some emotional cost to myself — and I wanted credit, not insults, for being able to speak in a normal tone of voice when I was having to explain things like, “We can’t tell who the rapists are before they turn violent, so sometimes we have to be cautious with men who do not intend to harm us.”

wolfwithafoxtail:

People think feminism means that there’s a group of women somewhere that want to take trousers with pockets away from men and give them to women, and give men trousers with fake pockets, while in reality feminism is the general idea that everyone should have trousers with pockets, because pockets are awesome.

videohall:

News Anchor in my area loses it over a Fat Cat that likes to swim.

reservationsatdorsiaxo:

desperatemonkeys:

feliidaesabers:

veeoneeye:

If I was a female, this post would just be the best.

I can’t breathe

I’m a dude and this belongs on my tumblr haha

I still can’t get over this.
So accurate its unbelievable 

reservationsatdorsiaxo:

desperatemonkeys:

feliidaesabers:

veeoneeye:

If I was a female, this post would just be the best.

I can’t breathe

I’m a dude and this belongs on my tumblr haha

I still can’t get over this.

So accurate its unbelievable 

trigger warning

Life has been pretty not terrible lately. The only thing that sucks is that [he] was in a show that just closed back in OK & all of my friends were in it & every time I get on FB I see [him]. EVERYONE WAS IN THIS DAMN SHOW and all day long I see pictures of him.

I always go through all of these fucking thoughts and emotions and so forth every time I see pictures. I’m not about to ruin his life and run around telling everybody about [it], but then I feel like I should because who knows if he’d do that again to someone else. Plus this show he was in was a huge fucking show with tons of kids and I don’t know. I mean

FUCK.

I want to say he wouldnt do that again because i knew him and whatever but i would love to say he wouldn’t do that to ME, either, because I FUCKING KNEW HIM

fuck fuck fuck.

see? see the point?

the point is I can’t handle all of it. this is stupid.

life is wonderful and i love my job and sean and I are so happy and talking about getting married and the future and everything. we want to get a house in the future and we’re talking about all of that insane stuff and I couldn’t be happier to have him.

and then I fucking get on facebook and I go through all of these fucking thoughts and i just fucking HATE THE FUCKING VICTIM COMPLEX I GET FROM ALL OF THIS. I don’t want to be a “survivor”, I don’t want to be a “victim”, I don’t want to be a part of those statistics.

fuck.

cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurly hairs in the morning, y’all.

cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurly hairs in the morning, y’all.

It seems that when you want to make a woman into a hero, you hurt her first. When you want to make a man into a hero, you hurt… also a woman first.