All posts tagged males

So, What’s All The Fuss?

Published April 6, 2017 by mindfulofchatter

I really want know why men are so afraid of women having complete equality. Why do we scare you so much? Why can’t we make decisions regarding our own bodies? What have we done do have to still be fighting for our rights in 2017?

Now if you are one the many women who don’t see there an issue, that fine. You can go read something else and I won’t be offended. Nor will I try to cram my point of view down your throat. We are all good. We both entitled to our respective opinions.

Me? I still want to know what the problem is. I want to know why men (in particular) are trying so hard to keep women from having the same total control of their bodies as they have of theirs. Am I not a grown adult as you are? Is there something about being female that prevents me from making my own decisions about my own healthcare and reproductive choices? Why don’t I make as much money as you guys do for doing the same job? What the hell?!?

(side note – this not about abortion. If you are against abortion, fine. Just please leave others out of your personal choices and I’ll do the same. Okay?)

For centuries women could not own property, own a business, carry money, vote and numerous other things that were for men only. If a women owned land, it became her husband’s land as soon as they wed. If she owned valuable jewelry (including inherited jewels), they became her husbands as soon as they were wed. Did you know that a married woman didn’t even own her clothing? That too, belonged to her husband.

Why? What did women do to men to make them put us all under the floorboards and keep us there? Why were we denied the simple right to own our own things, to be taught to read (Yup, few women were taught to read. Upper class women were taught to read, but were not permitted to read newspapers. ‘Cuz, you know, they may learn something), to simply have a say in our lives?

Women were used as chattel to create ties for kings. A ‘good match’ was far more important than a good marriage. Women were told ‘look to other way’ if her husband had affairs or a mistress. Stay home. Raise children. Don’t make a fuss. Do as you’re told.

I hear the women who think we are all fine. We are equal. We get all the same goodies. But we don’t, do we. Not really.

We have (mostly) men trying to tell what kind of healthcare we are allowed. We are being told what is best for our reproductive choices. We are still told rape is our fault. That skirt was too short, why were you were alone?, the street was dark, did you have a drink?, did you take any drugs?, were there any witnesses?, are you a credible person? In short – what did you do to get raped?

(side note – I was once held up at gunpoint outside of a nightclub. I had parked under a street lamp, not in the dark. The first thing I was asked? Did you have a man walk you to your car? Yes, I did. They robbed him as well)

Our pay is still less than a man’s pay for doing the same job with Hispanic women coming in last. Because, you know, your ethic background is an indicator of how well you do your job.

So I want to know.

Why did women do to men to make them so damned scared of us?


A New Photo Brings New Action

Published February 11, 2013 by mindfulofchatter

Garbo, Greta (Mata Hari)_01

All of a sudden, my dating profile as sort of taken off. I say sort of, because while I have had some new ‘action’, not a lot has come of it. And to be honest, I don’t expect it to.

I posted a new photo of myself. It far and away better than any of the old ones. Before I went to France, I bought a little digital camera for the trip. It has, as most cameras do, a self timer. So I focused on my chair, set the timer, plopped down. After a few tries, I got it mostly right. I don’t think anyone will miss seeing top of my hair. I mean, you can see I have my whole head and a not a Frankenstein flat top. Anyway, the photo came out very nice. So I posted it on my dating (I say that as if I actually have dates) profile. Ta-da! A dating profile complete with a very current ,in focus photo. What more could you ask for. Well, besides a date or two.

Out of boredom and waiting for the washer to run its cycle, I decided to look at profiles. I don’t why I do this. It tends to be an exercise in disappointment. But, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I plunged into the depths of profile searching.

Whilst searching, I got a message. *ping* It was from someone I had not had contact with before. So I answered, and soon we off on a message conversation. He finally  invited me to instant chat. We did that for a bit, then he wanted to call me on the telephone. Being ever so ‘what the hell’, I said okie dokie. (for those you who are gasping and thinking stalker/creepy dude/whatever. It’s okay. I listen to, and trust my ‘red flag instincts’. There were none here).

This man had a very nice voice. He sounded intelligent, and was funny. He was also insecure (not he would admit it – ever) and pushed the limits of proper conservation. I have talked to men like this before. I find them amusing. I see the holes in their stories. I hear what they are not saying. I let them talk themselves further into their cute little holes. Some people really need to learn when to drop the shovel. He tried very hard to run the conversation. He blocked his number from me. He tried to ‘jokingly’ insult me to get me answer off-color questions. I haven’t had such a good laugh in a very long time.

Him: You haven’t made any comments on my voice. I know I have sensual voice. Why haven’t you said anything about it?

Me (outside voice): Yes, you do have a very nice voice. I was just thinking that.

Me (inside voice): Seriously? You need me to compliment you 10 minutes into this conversation?

Him (after we been talking about double standards): Well, when women jump from bed to bed, it’s because they have low self-esteem. That makes them slutty. Men don’t do that. Men just like sex.

Me: So what if a woman just likes sex and sleeps around for the same reason? How is she is a slut and he is not a slut?

Him: Women don’t do that. If they are self-confident, they are in monogamous relationships.

Me: But she’s not a slut if she gives it up on the first date?

(inside voice) *LMAO* Wow. Live in the dark ages much?

Him: No. If the chemistry is right, why not? I hate the rules of kiss on a the first date, maybe sex on the third. It’s stupid.

Him: (as I am signing off): I think we need to meet. I want you to come here on Thursday and walk in the park with me. I’ll let you know what time.

Me: Maybe. I have a few appointments this week.

(inside voice) And I’m thinking no way in hell am I walking in a secluded park you, bucko. 

While all the is was going on, I got another message from new ‘suitor’. This was exciting! Three whole messages on my dating site in the same day! I was getting downright light-headed with giddiness. Well, until I read the darn thing.

Talk to me, doll.

What? ‘Doll’? Did he call me ‘doll’? I read it twice to be sure. Yep, he called me ‘doll’. I am a lot of things, some of them odd. But a doll? Um………no. The only men who get to call me ‘doll’ are WWII veterans. But I read the man’s profile to see if we could get past the ‘doll’ comment.

He claimed to be born in another country, but raised in yet another country. And he flat-out stated he was an alpha male ,but a gentleman. He even had a reference from someone he had dated on his profile. She said he was, indeed, an alpha male and not for the faint of heart. A gentleman, Intelligent and funny. I’m still not sure about having dating references on your profile, but whatever.

I am not faint hearted. I have no fear of an alpha males. Mostly I tend to confuse alpha males. Okay, okay. I tend confuse most males. But alpha males always kind blink at me like they have no idea what to do with me. My female friends tell me I am an alpha female, and this is a confusing situation for an alpha male who never met an alpha female before.

So I answered his message: Chit chat, or real conversation? Both are available. 🙂

So far, no response.

Alpha male, my sweet pa-tootie.