(PT. 2 of 2 Up today as promised.)
When it comes to my sexist crimes against women the only thing that eases my guilt is being able to say I’m an equal opportunity offender. And I am.
I am WAY worse to the men of the world then the women. My expectations manage to be simultaneously higher and lower. On one hand as a man I feel you should be able to build me a luxury kitchen to make you all those damn sandwiches you’re so concerned with getting. But on the other hand as far as I’m concerned men are good for two things:
1) Fixing my shit.
And even then I’m flexible on fixing shit part. I’m a modern woman after all, I know what a screw driver looks like.
I know my way around a damn kitchen, and any dipstick trying to tell me the right way to dice a butternut squash can fuck off and get his ass back in the garage. My car isn’t going to change it’s own oil sugar-dick.
Joining the work force? You better believe you are. Can’t have you taking up my couch all day watching football, ‘Storage Wars’, or ‘Duck Dynasty’ or whatever the fuck else passes as quality television on A&E. Someones gotta keep me in grocery money and laundry detergent with just a little spending money on the side. You know just enough to make sure I don’t have an excuse to let myself go. You’ve got bacon to bring home buddy.
Speaking of bacon, don’t actually BUY me bacon. The only literal bacon that should be in my home is what you carved out of that wild boar you hunted down and slaughtered with your bare hands before I cooked it over the roaring fire you made by rubbing two sticks together and served on the deerskin table cloth I fashioned out of last weeks Kill.
(As far as you’re concerned, interior decorating begins and ends here.)
And where your “feelings” are concerned bottle that shit up. No one wants to see a grown man cry all right? I’m the one whose body is pumping estrogen, that’s my job. Of course I will allow exceptions such as: bloody war flashbacks, your mother being diagnosed with cancer, or your favourite character dying on ‘Game of Thrones’. I completely understand. Weep away brave warrior.
I figure if I’m going to fulfill my womanly duties then at the very least I can expect men to return the favour. The only way this gender roles thing works people is if we both hold up sides of the bargain. Gentlemen.