Sometimes, not all the time mind you, but sometimes people call me sexist. I’ll be watching a tape of Mystery Science Theater 3000, or beating a woman and suddenly, out of the blue, someone will come to me and say, “Can I borrow that tape when you’re done with it?” And I can’t help but think that they’re not asking due to their love of eclectic comedy, or even kitschy science-fiction films, but rather as part of an elaborate scheme that will result in some Amazing Colossal Man-sized humiliation for yours truly. And that just hurts my feelings. My feelings are very delicate.
I treat women well. I pay for things when we go out. I’ve even gone so far as to ask her where she wants to go. We won’t necessarily go there, mind you, but the important thing is that I ask. Because I’m compassionate. That is, I am a compassionate individual with real feelings. Real, human feelings.
The one thing I don’t have, however, is telepathic powers. I can’t know that you don’t want my tongue in your mouth before I try, several times in quick succession. Just to be sure the first slap wasn’t a fluke. I mean, I’m not some kind of superhuman know-it-all who knows in advance how people are going to react to my casual use of the word “cunt.” I’m just a regular guy. I don’t have the ability to read your mind and find out whether you’ll be offended if I compliment your shapely, magnificent ass. Or even your sister’s shapely magnificent ass for that matter. Normal: that’s me.
Women are always accusing men of being “creepy” and “weird”. This is unfair. Contrary to what some feminist women would have you believe, not all men are “smelly jerks” who “live next door to me” and “give me the willies by looking at me through the adjoining window.” Isn’t a guy allowed to appreciate the female figure? As far as I’m concerned, if a photon of light bounces off your glimmering, nubile body and into my apartment, it’s my right to do with it as I wish. Even if a complex series of mirrors are needed to bring it into the privacy of my own video recording studio. And may I point out, the sidewalk may not be mine, but it is public domain.
To re-cap: Compassionate, feeling, women, public domain.
I just wish women would stop being so judgmental. The next time some girl tries to put a restraining order on me. I’m going to sit up in the courtroom, wave my shackled arms in the air and go, “Look, I just wanted to be loved… all night long!” and then do a defiant pelvic thrust to let the world know that there still are some good, old-fashioned men out there, who know how to treat a lady.
