On the Smart Man, WFGSIIC, part 2 of 87

This is the second part of 87 parts on Why Female Gender Supremacy is Ignorant Crap. It's also a companion post to On the Strong Man from earlier this year.

Wow. So, I was hoping that a few people would read my post last Sunday, but I wasn't expecting that so many people would read it, comment, and have their own blog reactions to the subject. My post touched the surface. Other people took the subject much further and much deeper.

Almost makes a body (a particularly lazy and rather harried body such as mine) want to break off here and let the rest of the world do the heavy lifting. But, as I've gone about my crazy-week-from-hell in the real world, other posts on the subject have germinated in the background. Things I'd really like to say at some time. I'm not up to 87 parts yet, but there's at least five more running around my brain.

I thought part two was going to be about why I find Female Gender Supremacy so personally insulting it raises bile in my throat and makes my hands shake if I think about it too long. But something, maybe Maymay ;) , has me thinking about the Smart Man more than anything else this Sunday.

God, I love smart men. Now, I love smart women, too, of course, but this post isn't about smart women, it's about smart men. Smart men are so fucking sexy.....wait... I'll resist turning this post into how fucking sexy a smart guy is, since that's not the topic at hand. Focus, E, focus! (It's been too long since I told you how I feel about Tim Russert, but we'll revisit the hotness of smart guys shortly. )

Instead, I want to tell you how smart guys have saved my life.

I never did the girl thing very well. If you look at the gender revolution that was going on while I was growing up (born in 1961), it's no wonder. When I was a little girl, I had to wear a hat, patent leather shoes and white gloves when I went into The City. And learn to set a table properly. There were jobs for men and jobs for women. Women got paid less then men and everybody knew it. Then come the gender revolution and roles got very confusing........god, I could blame the gender revolution, but honestly, I think in any era, I would have just sucked at doing the girl thing. (Keeping white gloves white doesn't last long with me. Do not ask me to sew on a button. That's what the dry cleaner is for.) I would have always been more interested in reading a book on crocheting than learning how to actually crochet. (That's what professional crocheters are for.)

So, one thing and another, I grew up with a hunger to be recognized, accepted and embraced as an individual person, not by gender standards. And not by sexuality, neither. (Even today, you'll find that I'm quite reserved, in person, about sexuality. You'd not have the least idea I'm kinky wild ;). My sexuality is private because I'm an individual first. If you accept and embrace the individual, I just might, just might, let you in on the wild, sexy side. If you're a good boy.)

There was never anything, still isn't, like a room with smart guys in it to make me feel accepted for me. (You might say, well what about the smart women. It's true now, but not true when I was growing up, which is a long section of this post I cut out. The section involved approval based on neat penmanship, adherence to project instructions and color coded note cards. I've cut that because it was long, ranty and not germane to the topic. But it felt good to spill it all out before I blasted it away. As if I had time to learn to write cursive so another human being could read it. I was trying to get through the entire Encylopedia Britannica and Websters' Unabridged Dictionary.)

When I was younger, the smart guys, the really smart ones and not the ones who think they are smart but aren't, the smart guys always understood me, or pieces of me, and accepted me for who I was. Mostly because we liked talking to each other. We'd talk during class, or hang out in groups in the newspaper or yearbook room during study hall. Drink too much coffee. Dish on life, those theories the young have that aren't grounded in much other than idealism. Talk about heady stuff, or not.

Maybe they wanted to get in my pants, but I never had that feeling from them, even though I had the biggest boobs in the entire graduating class of 700. The smart guys made me feel like a person, with no gender expectations or standards, just a meeting of the minds in seriousness and silliness. While the rest of the smart girls were practicing penmanship, I was hanging out with the smart guys doing Monty Python routines. Bring me a shrubbery! Is this the right room for an argument? Tis not! Tis!

We had coconut shells and we knew how to use them.

And so on in the rest of my life. I'll save my battles with gender inequality in the workplace for another post in the series, and just tell you this. It was hard, fucking, fucking, fucking hard to make my way in the business world, totally male dominated and controlled when I started. Fucking hard. To be diminished and ignored for no other reason than I was a woman. You think you know and I'll tell you right now, you don't know. You don't know until it happens to you, from both sexes, not just the men. Because of my gender.

Who was my friend in all of that? The Smart Man. He was there for me, when I needed him most, standing out in a sea of testosterone addled male chauvinist assholes...the Smart Man, more than one, recognized me, reached out and helped me along the way. He helped me not because I was a woman or a man, but because he saw me for me. And we were friends.

Will I ever do less than see him for him? He is my friend and I will take the head off of anybody who tries to draw him as anything other than the brilliant, capable, strong and worthy of respect man that he is. You will not diminish him, only over my dead body.

I will never, ever, ever believe Female Gender Supremacy is anything other than Ignorant Crap. Ignorant, ignorant crap. As if your sexual kink is any better excuse for blindness and stupidity than the ignorant, polarizing societal norms I grew up with were. As if.

I don't know if part 2 was any more cogent than part 1, but the series really picks up 'round about parts 24 or 25. Really.

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This just in.

I thought I would add a quote to round out the post.

Lack of paragraph breaks is not mine, it's the original Superior Poster.

All men are inferior, but the undying need to serve a Woman, suffer her humiliations and long for the wrath and abuse of a lovely Goddess is engrained in only some men. you may try to stifle this urge, forget your natural inclination, and marry a sweet little wife who makes you meatloaf and picks the fluff off your jacket. you may pretend to be different. But that’s not going to make you any different. As an inferior male, your need to serve, your innate desire to please and amuse a Woman, the fact that you recognize your own inferiority and insignificance IS the only thing you have to be proud of. Accept and embrace your submissive, TRUE nature—this is your only redeeming quality. Why is there so much shame in the submission of males in our society? your shame is in the fact that you are male, the fact that your almighty schlong controls and wields it's control over your entire existence. your PRIDE is your MISTRESS; SHE is the only thing that makes you good. How can the fact that you pamper, adore and worship a Beautiful, Wise, Enlightened and Wicked GODDESS be considered immoral or twisted? Embrace your stupid submission. Revel in the fact that you are OWNED. If ever a MISTRESS has said to you, “good dog” or “haha, I could abuse your dumbass all day!” or “you made me laugh” or “what a sweet pig, NOW send more money!” you have achieved your goal. For a moment in time, you were more than just a worthless wanker. That big macho dumbshit who measures his worth by fucking any girl with a low self-esteem who will have him, who takes advantage of a Woman’s intrinsic need to be Loved and Adored, who wears his baseball cap backwards, hangs out a Hooters and actually thinks the Girls in Playboy aren’t airbrushed and actually want to fuck him, the one who tells you what a pussywhipped fool you are and how you let uppity Women walk all over you--he is a complete idiot. he is the deluded fool. As inferior and worthless pigs, you are actually one small step above him. If he is not pleasing some Woman, pray tell, what damned purpose does he serve?