Women…

Usually, I write right after I wake up. That’s when my brain remembers what it wants to say and it hasn’t gotten distracted by being engaged with thinking. Today isn’t usually…so, maybe this goes into the Great Draft Pile in the Sky…or I decide to eff it and post the damn thing…*editorial, it’s already going downhill because I’m very rarely profane here. “Not here” my favorite word starts with an eff…*

…I have never been a person that engaged in casual sex. It has, every time, been with a person that I thought I could see the potential for “forever” with. I have encouraged others to “get laid” but, just not me. *I don’t mean to get into my own sexuality other than that bit because it applies to the train of thought*

I wouldn’t cheat on my wife if it was offered. Couldn’t. Having said that, the people I seem to like and talk to most are women. Perhaps, because sex has never been casual, it’s because, unlike most cishet males, women have never been “sex objects” to me. Yes, I am able to, and do, see an attractive woman as an attractive woman but, not as an “it” for me to imagine “between the sheets”. Hope this is making sense.

I suppose the reason I like women as people to talk is because, it seems to me, that there is less pretense in their core thinking. The thought, as I’m pondering, is that like my favorite poet, Kipling, alluded to is that the cost of the continuation of the species to y’all leaves very little room for self-delusion. When the upside is surviving childbirth and the downside is fatal, the cost is far greater than what the male has invested in the process…

Anyway…

Yeah, the train of thought drifted away…

Oh yeah, I think that the reason men treat y’all, women, like objects is that we realize that we are scared and in awe of y’all. Truthfully, I’m not sure I could handle the physical and emotional investment that procreation, not sex, involves for y’all all. It’s easier to demean and diminish what we fear than it is to acknowledge it, the fear I mean…

Why do we, men, fear y’all? Is it that childbirth/pregnancy/motherhood scares us? Is it that we realize that, physically, we have done more wrongs to women than y’all have done to us? Is it, again to paraphrase Kipling, that we realize that y’all HAVE to be fearless and far more ruthless than we do? Is it that, at the bottom of things, we wish to possess that which we have no right to own and realizing our weakness, fear our own weakness?

Look y’all, I have male acquaintances and one guy I think of as a close friend but, when I meet someone and think “this person MIGHT be someone I would like to trust as a friend”, invariably she’s a woman. I expect to be lied to by a guy. I expect that they will be a braggart, shallow, and craven. I expect that they will be little substance and all surface. Most times I’m correct.Sure, women like to dress and maintain their appearance but, women dress for themselves, not for others. Men dress to brag. That, in of itself, speaks volumes…

This was such a well-formed thought when I was thinking it…

Perhaps just to end the thought…

I don’t know why there’s even a human race left. I don’t know why women have let us men survive. We haven’t earned it. Our treatment of the other 49.6% of the world has really proved that our only truly useful function is as sperm donors…guys, we need to get over ourselves…

*****

My attitude isn’t quite as harsh as this comes across. I do, however, believe that we, men, need to change our attitudes toward those that gave birth to us.

*****

One parting thought. This is what I’ve paraphrased throughout this…

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

The Female of the Species

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
‘Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man’s timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn’t his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other’s tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

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3 comments

  1. I feel the same and though I sometimes get a tingle in places knowing that someone might fancy me…maybe the buzz of it..I would never cheat!

    1. In the words of Z *you can find various blog posts with her in them tagged “lesbian”* “women smell better than men”. *grins* You’re correct, I am flattered that my closest, best, friends are women…particularly considering how awkward I was around y’all when I was younger…

  2. Perspective is a wonderfully wild thing, isn’t it? I’ve heard so many members of my gender giving the same reasons for having/preferring men as friends. I’ve never felt quite like this about either gender, but can certainly see the behaviors/traits on certain individuals.

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