gender [in]equality

I’m not a feminist and I’m not a misogynist. Honest! I honestly believe that women are superior to men in many, many ways. There was an accurate description summarizing the not-so-subtle difference between the sexes in a book I once read: “A man is a thing;a woman is a being.” The longer you live the more it dawns on you just how true this is. 

In any way it’s fairly obvious that a stupid man is far worse than a stupid woman. Hear me out. A stupid man is a public menace; he’s an incompetent, deluded primate limited by his lesser drives and aggression, capable only of inflicting pain onto those around him. At the same time a stupid woman can become a highly skilled housewife, model (yeah, I said it, so sue me), caregiver, artist or PR consultant, basing all of her achievements on nothing more than intuition and belief in the good in people.

The main problem stems from the fact that men and women are stupid in different ways. Stupidity in the latter is actually closer to what we usually refer to as ignorance and thus goes hand in hand with an almost blissful delight in discovering the earthly delights of the world while remaining unaware of all repercussions. Women’s stupidity is simple ignorance without malice – truthful inability to understand coupled with lack of desire to learn. Hence all the stories and sayings that it’s impossible to convince or teach a woman anything she;s not willing to consider.

Male stupidity is a whole other story – it’s overpowering, permeating and, above all, active. If you were to open any of the numerous online dictionaries you’ll notice at the core of the definition of ‘stupidity’ is some type of illogical, unintelligent and/or poorly thought-through action

This is why women rely on the foolproof tactic of finding someone who seems to have a better understanding of things than them and hitch a ride or lay low and wait for things to change. Men, however, run around hectically and wreck emotional and all other sorts of havoc due to inability to stay put and simply do nothing. Do the math which scenario leads to worse results in the long run.

What’s worth mentioning is that in intelligent men and women things are in reverse, meaning that smart men are generally more equipped to do something productive with their mind than women. In this case being passive, which is their trademark, keeps the latter from exploring the full potential of their intelligence.

Fortunately, the construct of the world is such that smart people are far less than stupid one, and since we already established that stupid women are better than stupid men, it’s safe to deduce that the present paradigm is well sustained.

What was my point again? Ah, yes – women are better than men in so many, many ways..

 

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a fairy-tale, sort of

She always knew when he was with Her. Not physically per se, but in his mind and heart. It was in those moments that he became aggressive, detached and rough – pinning her down and turning the bed into a war zone. He was trying to extinguish his unhealthy attachment, to erase Her image – from his mind and life, strip it down and tear it apart until there was nothing but an aching scar in its place. She pursed her lips and took it, afraid to admit even to herself that she was enjoying this torture. Afterwards she was always quick to reassure him with her eyes that it was OK. Not that he seemed to care.

Inside her his movements were slow, deliberate; he listened to her sighs and barely audible moans and stroked her with tenderness he didn’t think he had in himself. Every time he wished they could stay connected like this until the end of time. She felt ethereal next to him; he needed physical validation that she was there. Albeit a short-lasting one.

He was careful to avoid all the places where he used to go with Her.Everything needed to be different. New. Unique. Luckily she didn’t resemble Her in anything. Different figure, brown instead of blue eyes, long straight instead of short and curly hair. Her features were so delicate she looked like a fair-skinned figurine; it took him a while to get used to handling her as he wasn’t fond of being careful. Sometimes he would think of Her generous curves and hour-glass frame. She was as different on the inside as she was on the outside – anxious, restless and fleeting like the surface of the ocean on a windy day. Nothing was what it seemed with her. He was unable to forgive her for nothing being like He, but loved her for who she was.

She often fantasized about talking with Her and so did he. A desperate attempt at seeking out the ‘why’ they hoped would fill the numerous cracks in their turbulent relationship. A vain one too as She had no interest in speaking to either of them. She had moved on; they were the ones who were stuck. He wished he could see them next to each other to know for sure if he had made the right decision. Not to compare them – no one can be better or worse than someone else; people are just different and he was perfectly aware of that. But he needed some sort of reassurance.

– Why do you put up with all of this? – he would often ask her.

– I love you. – she would reply.

– How is that even possible. I am so cruel to you.

– That’s all you have left.

– What if She never loosens her grip on me.

– She won’t, but it doesn’t matter.

One day he realized to his surprise he had pined her to the wall and was roughly slamming her against it not in an attempt to punish her (not her, of course, it wasn’t her fault…he was trying to punish himself), but because he had come to understand it was what she liked and expected from him.

He sighed with relief. Outside the dawn was breaking. Both of them had this renewed hope now everything would be different. And new.