Random Feminism

I think I am starting to scare my other half. He came up to see me over the weekend. You see I’m randomly speaking long passages on feminist thought. When we are just hugging or eating breakfast in bed, I’ll commence my lecture. It just falls out of me, I really don’t know that it is happening. I am too stubborn to even get the hint that males find it acutely annoying to be berated about there role in the mitigation of the female sex, while all they want to do is snuggle up under the covers and have a lazy Sunday in bed. Of course in reality I know exactly what I’m doing. I am keeping my bloke on his toes. Men will never get feminism, just as I find motorcycle shock absorbers the best substitute for nytol on this planet. But my bloke is not passive, he argues and as he seems to think that he should be a ‘new man’ and actually listen I get some wonderful heated steamy confrontations out of him. Hell it is one way to keep our passion boiling.

You see, it could have something to do with my mother being a subliminal feminist. By this I mean she never came right out and said "Look all men are just sperm donors and the entirety of the sisterhood have been brain washed in to servitude", no, my mum is too subtle for that.

My mum hints at men being feeble, that dad can never be trusted with a power tool, he’ll only hurt himself, yes, my mum is subtle. She only suggests that men are incompetent, my little brain schemes the rest out. An d it schemes to the fact that men need to be kept constantly amused, just like toddlers and dogs.

Well, I burst in to a long rant about how men have suppressed us with the supposed need for women to be nurturing children for 24hrs a day after they have given birth, and that this is too much like hard work. The other half looked scared, as if to say ‘you want kids now?’ Damn woman I just gave you sweet loving 10 minutes ago!

Well my excuse is that I seem to have developed a rare type of syndrome called Random Feminism. I am in full grip of it curtsey of my mum, and the fact that I took the subject introduction as it was worth the last 20 credits I needed to complete my time table.

My other half is now worried that I’m going to shave my head and stop shaving my legs and forget what a bikini line is. I tell him not to be ridiculous, that I am a child of the consumer age and that Random Feminism never stopped a girl from shopping. Only the overdraft on her account did!

Then I began my rant against the gender stereo- typing in schools. My other half began to look vacant. So I used my secret weapon on him. My incredible cold hands (due to poor circulation,) to maliciously tickle him. Once I had his full attention, I continued. Long live the power to confuse blokes as to what the hell you’re going on about. It perpetuates our mysterious allure. And watching them try to follow anything about periods is hilarious!


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