Контент 18+ If any of you have been following the news streaming out of the USA in recent months (and how can you avoid it?), you will no doubt be well-versed in the tsunami of sexual harassment allegations which have brought about the professional ruin of many high-placed men in the entertainment industry and the political arena especially.
Now the wags in the media have dubbed the process ” MeToo!” — meaning that as one woman “comes forward” (the press always uses this phrase), so then does another one remember HER OWN humiliating, degrading, disgusting, etc., etc., experience with a man –usually 10 or 15 years ago. And of course, we are regaled with kudos about her ‘bravery’ in the face of such trauma which — of course !!! — has been a source of angst for her ever since.
Maybe you detect a note of cynicism in my words, and if you do, you are correct. Some of those accusations are probably completely true, some partially true, and a lot of it just hysterical bandwagon jumping and opportunism on part of these imaginative ladies. Whatever the case, it brings certain things to my mind that hearken back to the days when I was growing up and starting to get interested in girls.Back then the middle America into which I was born and bred was definitely not in any way the androgynous society that the Western Far Left is trying so hard to mold. The roles of boys and girls (and men and women) were much more sharply defined. It wasn’t our fault; we entered a world that had been prepared for us. No doubt, men often behaved badly back then without retribution. What we now call domestic violence was rampant, absent fathers often did not pay child support, and very likely a lot of the sex was of the Wham-Bam-Thank you- Ma’am, one-way traffic variety.
In my early to mid-teens I had no idea what I was supposed to do with a girl. Once I took a girl to the movies and I practically broke my arm trying to find the exact right time to put it around her shoulders. It was because I thought that I was supposed to put my arm around her to show her that I liked her and wanted her to be my girlfriend. She didn’t help; she just sat there in the dark, but seemed to fidget away from me every time I felt myself getting close to the target. Maybe she didn’t know what to do either.
When I got her home and walked her to the front door of her house, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to kiss her good-night or not. If so, what kind of a kiss?. I mean, I didn’t want to come across as some sort of salivating rhinoceros trying to cram my snout down into her tonsils, but neither did I want her to go telling her friends about the ”dickless wonder who wanted to shake hands instead of kissing me.”
The point is this: boys were supposed to take the lead. If we danced with a girl, we were supposed to guide her. If we wanted to talk on the phone, we were the ones who had to make the call and come up with something interesting to say. On a date, we guys were expected to choose the place, provide the transportation, and pay for the entertainment. But at the end of the evening the girl still controlled everything because she had the right of refusal and, even in those days, an over-aggressive guy who made a serious mess of the moment gained himself a bad reputation.
The problem was and remains to this day– and it is something that Feminists altogether refuse to acknowledge at all — is that (1) men and women are fundamentally different, both physically AND psychologically; and (2) women are absolute masters at sending ‘mixed messages’. After my long, long experience in the field, I can only conclude — as have many men before me — that it is virtually impossible for a man to figure out what it is that women really want. And the reason for that is simple: women don’t know either.
Some guys are monsters, yes; but a lot of male ‘misbehavior’ comes about because for centuries it has been pumped into boys and men that they are the ones who must take the initiative, and many of them (of us) have repeatedly experienced confusion when trying to read the tea leaves.
I recall a time when I was at university in England, and I and a Persian guy named Rej took out two pretty English girls, Tina and another whose name I forget. After a long evening we ended up back at the apartment which they shared with two or three other girls. We were given our sleeping quarters, Rej on one sofa in another room and me on a couch somewhere else. The girls retired to their own chambers. I accepted this arrangement unblinkingly. It turned out the following morning that Rej had simply ‘surprised’ Tina by coming into her room where he was greeted with open arms. His reward was getting his brains fucked out by the grateful Tina. Presumptuous of Rej I suppose, but oh how it worked for him! I, remaining the circumspect young gentleman, properly said my prayers to my Father in Heaven and went to sleep. Unfucked.
Now, after all these years I wonder –should I have gone to the other girl’s room? Was she expecting me? Was it all part of a clever little game on their (the girls) part, sugared up with the pretense of modesty? Was it their way of separating the rams from the lambs? Obviously, I will never know. And that’s the point. Either Rej and Tina had created some kind of subtle chemistry which they both understood but merely kept quiet about all evening, or whether Rej was just being brazen in his handsome Persian way, will forever be a mystery. And if I had crossed that threshold, would I have been invited further or viewed as an odious pig who had probably had too much to drink and forgot his manners?
The irony of it all is — this too I say from experience — is that the guys, then and now, who seem to ”have a way with women’; that is, who appear to possess some hidden antennae which lets them understand when ” No” really means “Yes” are usually the most cold-hearted and cynical guys in the world. They are master manipulators and great amateur psychologists who know how to read women and get what they want. And women fall for it. As time went on, I learned how to play some of those games too. But it was never comfortable, it was never the right way.
Part of the fun of the love game is the adventure, the pursuit. If there is a god after all, then praise Him/Her for giving women the splendid ruses of seduction that they so often use — which is to say, when this game is played on the up-and-up and when there is a real chance for a satisfactory ending for both. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where women walked around with badges on their blouses that lit up a blazing red or purple to announce that they were ready for sex.
As denizens of the old world of my upbringing used to say, a little wooing never hurts. And Yes, Yes, Yes, a very firm and absolute “No !” should come across loud and clear. As someone told me once while resisting my entreaties with some exasperation, (can’t recall the scenario), “What is it about the word “No” that you don’t understand?”
In that situation, there was nothing else to discuss. But I admit that, like Turkish carpet salesmen near the Blue Mosque, there are apparently some guys who need a blast of mace emptied in their face before the lesson sinks in.
What I do get tired of is feminists and other self-appointed female ‘victims’ displaying wild histrionics that are designed to camouflage latently vicious motives — who refuse to acknowledge that the male role, traditionally and today, is just a bit more complicated than a case of Godzilla roaring for pussy, or that women themselves, with their seemingly endless capacity for vacillating, scheming, caprice, and treachery, don’t need to shoulder some of the blame when a failure to communicate — whether by accident or by cunning design — results in a stiff cock looking for love in all the wrong places.
Almost all of the academic feminists who attack this subject dismiss men as mindless grunts from a marauding army, while self-indulgently (not to say idiotically) ignoring the fact that every one of us is human, which means ultimately we are in the same boat together. There are heroes and villains on both sides. Any fool should know this.
===Eric Richard Leroy===