I'm Not A Feminist, But

It seems that vaginae are somewhat of a handicap when it comes to parallel parking. News to me! I can only assume that I am fortunate to have one that neither obscures my peripheral vision nor adversely affects my spatial awareness.

I am pretty sure (or at least wholly optimistic) that there was never any sexist intent behind Whoops' post, but that does not excuse its publication or her defence of it. Bar one, all of the comments on the post are glowing - people exhibiting a genuine gratitude for what are undoubtedly clear and useful instructions on how to perform a complex manoeuvre.

Unthinking and casual sexism makes me very mad. That unthinking and casual sexism is politely ignored or worse, simply not noticed, makes me even madder.

Reader's Choice #3

Real Women

(Because Some Are More Realier Than Others)

So the SWF was first in the door with her suggestion for my occasional series - If I had a blog [it's not for lack of me trying to persuade her] I think I'd have a good rant about the concept of 'real' women - the notion that some women are somehow more real than others. It drives me mad!

She continues: I can appreciate where they're coming from and that adverts do show women who are physically very different to the average girl on the street, but if you replace 'real' with 'average' the term loses some its pleased-with-oneself aura. There's nothing wrong with being pleased with oneself but the use of the word 'real' somehow infers some sort of moral superiority over less 'real' women - i.e. models and thin actresses - miserable anorexics the lot of them, traitors to the gender!

Yikes. This should have been Reader's Choice #1 by rights, but I couldn't figure out what angle to approach it from. See, if we're talking angles, I am best approached with a wide and vaseline-smeared lens, for I have weighty issues with my posterior. So although I can appreciate the cause of my beautiful slim friend's irritation, I can't say I share it. I identify with these Real Women - I find them less intimidating, more beautiful. I don't know if it's because I identify with them that I find them attractive - I have an eye for women who are roundy of bum and plump of thigh and I wonder if this is just narcissism on my part, my ego subconsciously kicking my unflattering insecurities up the ample arse. I appreciate that advertisers are trying to flatter me by referring to these women as "real" and I buy wholesale into their pitch. The tubster in me is absolutely delighted at the vilification of the models and thin actresses, these traitors to my gender. The SWF is right though, "real" could easily be substituted with "average" in this case, causing the phrase to lose all appeal - no woman wants to think of herself as average.

Ordinary.

Plain.

So the slim women, the ones just like those models and actresses, feel discriminated against. I thought about this, and tried to affect sympathy as I tried to squeeze into a skirt in Zara last Saturday. No dice. Fashion and its herald, popular culture, are still weighted very much in favour of skinny malinks. So what if a few liberal-leaning features editors and clever advertisers have set their sights on the plainer janes in stretchy jeans. Big deal. It makes the bigger deals amongst us feel a little better about our muffin tops, when all around us judgement screams FAT!

*Ah* she said, it's nice to rant. She's right, it is. This rant's not one for me though.

Reader's Choice: An Occasional Series

I've been tinkering for a while with the idea of writing a series of posts on topics suggested by readers. Because you continue to read in spite of my lazy posts (for photographs of myself asleep and rants about bastards and Tuesdays do not make for a scintillating blog) and you deserve to have something better to read. I'd recommend that you look elsewhere... but I really like the attention. So because I do not have the wherewithal to be a better writer, I will occasionally attempt to pander to your readery whims. Any and all suggestions will be welcomed with open arms and a warm, wet kiss; leave them in the comments if you like, or email them to me (if you're shy and you don't want to be ridiculed by all and sundry for suggesting something stupid). The SWF has already suggested I pen a rant on her behalf on the myth of Real Women, so that will be my starting point. I'm not really sure what I think of Real Women or even if I qualify as one but I plan to write something anyway because let's face it, I'm not exactly an expert on any of the topics I touch upon here (apart from my vagina, and that pun was totally intended).

You folk read it anyway. I love you for that.

So, any requests?

Dating Service

I see that that Disgrace has been pondering his single status of late, which I suppose makes a change from him just muttering direly about his last relationship.

My honeymoon period as novelty single guy has come to an end. I'm now becoming an embarrassing loveless lump of drunken typical single sleaze bag.

[in conclusion] Ok girls, come and get it...

This has me thinking once more about blogging as a dating strategy. I read recently (via JazzBiscuit) about the British Psychological Society's advice to women on choosing an online dating name, advice which seemed to support my previous feminist(ish) rant about men not being attracted to clever or funny women. "She advised female lonely hearts to avoid screen names which attempt to be classy, or show how clever they are."

I've had two affairs* as a result of this blog, though you know that already. It makes for an interesting way to meet someone and I'm not sure if I prefer it to conventional methods (getting wankered and seeing what fate has to offer by way of entertainment). I met LC sight unseen and took my chances, I ended up spending two fantastic long weekends with him. I went out as a pretend friend with OneFor (whom I had met once before but didn't pay any mind to) and ended up sticking my fingers in his beard and asking him to kiss me.

Neither of my affairs were disasters, exactly, but nor were they raging successes; I still sleep alone. Both were short lived and disappointing in their way, both were a little easier because they keep blogs too (and I had read them) so I knew more or less what I was letting myself in for and both were a little more difficult because they had read my blog (and it was far too late to try to make a good impression). It can make for frustrating conversation, having your own flippant remarks and faux pas quoted back to you almost verbatim. It also drastically reduces your stock of witty anecdotes with which to fill conversational lapses, "I read that!" effectively unravelling your yarn and leaving you looking like a one-trick pony.

I'm not sure how accurate a picture I paint of myself with my writings here (SWF reckons I'm pretty true to form) but I do try to be classy and even when recounting my most idiotic adventures I try to do it in an articulate and clever manner. Because I find classy and clever attractive, though I suspect my definitions of both are a little different to the ones one might find in a dictionary. So am I fishing for romance through my blog, in some long winded form of online dating?

In between odes to my family, my friends and the demon drink, maybe.

*What else to call them? They were neither relationships nor one night stands. Can anybody suggest a more suitable term? (Note: anyone suggesting "thing" will be barred.)

Blessed Is She Amongst Women

I've mentioned my mild allergy to religiosity before but I had to swallow it the other morning and attend mass with my nana. I had stayed overnight with her and she sprung it on me over breakfast; "I just thought we could do that and then go in to see him... you know, that way I could say a few prayers and tell the priest not to call here to the house on Christmas eve with communion for him". Pack your bags, we're going on a guilt trip! I made a half-arsed non-joke about waiting for her in the car but my going to mass would mean she'd have one less soul to worry about, so of course I went in with her.

Her parish church is massive, it must have a capacity of 1500 or more. The congregation on Sunday numbered about 60. Most of them were alone, most of them were middle aged or older. Almost all of them chose to sit alone too - whatever mass gives them, it's not the comfort of a sense of community. The liturgy was familiar from my years of attending mass as a child; there is some consolation in the routine of standing, sitting, kneeling, going through the motions. So far, so inoffensive. Until we got to the homily (the priest's chance to freestyle for a few moments after the gospel has been read). This week's topic? Vaginae.

Did you know that the Virgin Mary was a virgin? "She was a virgin prior to the conception of Our Lord. A virgin even after his birth, for through some miracle she was not defiled by the act of giving birth, her virginity remained intact. She chose to preserve her pure and virginal status ever after". Words bellowed in admiration by a celibate man in his mid seventies who has presumably never seen a vagina and thinks himself the better for it. It grates on me that the Catholic faith worships its leading lady for her intact hymen above all else.

Post Scriptum:
The plural of vagina is vaginae. Who knew? (not I)

How Not To Woo Men, Apparently

Having spent the day at home yesterday trying to finish assignments and getting myself into a temper, I turned the laptop off and settled in to watch some truly shiteous telly before bed. Cue UTV's How to Get More Sex. Fine prescriptive viewing for an inexplicably single lady!

Alas, no.

I mentioned recently my theory that people do not like funny women (just as they do not like very clever ones) and last night's programme appears to support my complaint. I know the programme was dire, I know the "experiments" were clumsy and are far from scientifically valid, etc. Nonetheless, the results sounded depressingly familiar. The experiment was thus: Two actors were sent speed-dating, two weeks in a row. On week one they were advised to be average, attentive but not funny. The man scored just one tick out out of 20 potential dates, whereas the woman scored 10. Second time around they were told to be funny, as witty and humorous as possible. His chances increased five fold, hers halved.

The conclusion drawn was that being funny is seen as a socially dominant trait and whereas women find that very attractive in a man (I agree), men tend to find it threatening in a woman and thus unattractive (told you so). The actor's assessment of it was interesting - once she stayed quiet and let people talk about themselves they were much more receptive to her. The psychologist surmised that the sense of humour most valued in a woman is an ability to laugh at her partner's jokes, rather than a propensity for cracking them herself. The vox pops were unanimous, both men and women professed to prefer funny people. Put to the test though it doesn't seem to ring true. How depressing.

So it's back to batting eyelashes and smiling shyly for me.

Post Scriptum:
The programme's experiments also indicated that chat up lines don't work at all. Take note please, gentlemen.

Sisterhood Postponed

So I missed this afternoon's appointment with feminism because this morning's appointment with the doc re my ovaries ran late.

Ironic, eh?

Sisters, Doing It For Themselves?

I eventually gave up on the study last night and switched on the telly for a while before bed. Channel 4's 100 Greatest Comedy Stand-Ups was on and it made for depressing viewing. Ironic, eh? Ironic that Ed Byrne and his Alanis Morrissette routine featured, certainly.

Only 6 of the 100 who featured are women. I've been saying it for a long time and people disagree with me for the most part but I remain convinced that people do not like funny women, just as they do not like very clever ones. A sweeping generalisation, I know, but when it comes to the braying masses I think it's true. Shane Hegarty touched on it before when he wondered why Maeve Higgins has never appeared on The Panel and Una summed it up nicely in her comment on said post: The deeper meaning: women aren’t supposed to be as funny as men in all in anyways, so let’s just rotate pretty people that have a media profile.

I don't think I'm a feminist (I'm not sure though, because I'm not too sure what "feminist" means). There are times when I feel duty bound to stand up for myself and my vagina though. I'm due to attend a seminar tomorrow on women in the workplace, which I have mixed emotions about. It sounds very 1970s girlpower, doesn't it? I was telling the Gorilla about it a while ago, and he was appalled to think that such a thing might be necessary in 2007. Being an equinanimous sort he found it hard to imagine that anyone would feel at a disadvantage because of their sex (except when it comes to relationships, where for some reason he believes women to have an advantage. Looking at him, I don't fucking think so). I was telling him about how I've experienced it in work with the likes of this shitehawk and how I often hear women in positions of power being spoken of in very masculine terms. I say I have mixed emotions about it because I too would like to think that such a seminar is not necessary, just as I'd like to think that mace and attack alarms are not necessary for the walk home after a night out. I'll be interested to hear what they have to say.