Let me be clear about something, so there is no misunderstanding amongst the finger-pointers.
I love women.
More than probably anything else. They are intrinsically exciting to me. Not just their hills and valleys; I can get worked into a froth thinking about Camille Paglia cocking an eyebrow. I have chased women at the expense of my sanity and livelihood, even the ones I wasn’t trying to fuck. Some women beam out female energy like a supernova, and I just want to be close to it, like a moth to a flame.I have fantasized about ladies ranging from Kate Upton to Judi Dench. (That’s Dame Judi Dench, good sir.) You’ve no doubt heard legends of guys who literally want to fuck every woman they see: how do you do? My name is Matty.
It’s not even priapism; I call it “priapathy”. I get a rager every other minute, but I’m too jaded to do anything about it. Besides, as Crumb said, why would you want to possess every woman? Would you pick every blossom? Of course not. Enjoy the garden.
“Women are basically sentient flowers.” -Matty has actually said this.
If men can’t understand their overwhelming desire to touch you, or see you without your clothes on, maybe, just maybe you aren’t the same as a man.
Maybe women have a power they can’t see, because they’re fucking born with it.
Maybe this power comes with great responsibility, and potential, and it makes women less likely to buddy up with each other. Maybe it makes them vicious, if they allow it, because it’s more difficult for them to trust other women (who can be vicious). Men will settle disagreements with violence, which women aren’t conditioned to do, traditionally.
You know what else women don’t do?
They don’t go so crazy wanting a glimpse of the opposite sex unclad that they dig used pornography out of a stranger’s garbage, stash it in a hollowed-out tree in the woods, and guard it like a German shepherd. They don’t go to a shitty movie because there’s five seconds of nudity in it*. They don’t hide a mound of skin mags in a spot where their sons will later discover them, and burst into pubescence.
(*I may be wrong on this: see Channing Tatum and Magic Mike XXL, which I myself have not.)
All of the above are natural, common experiences for men, and women do none of them. In fact, most women discourage them, as “perverse”. This is because they come packaged in bodies that half the world wants to see. They can’t understand their inherent desirability any better than I can understand birthing a mewling infant from my taint.
Once upon a time, Playgirl magazine existed as a sporting counterpart to the then-legendary Playboy, featuring nude dudes instead of bunnies. Women are so uninterested in the male form that Playgirl isn’t even a print publication- it’s digital, and it’s all gay! What does that tell you about the average woman’s lust? How can they even have lust, when guys are literally trying to fuck them every day of their lives?
So right here, you can see a couple of social problems emerging, ones for which there are no easy solutions. The way I see it, some things need a woman’s touch, and some things need a man’s hand. We’re supposed to work together, instead of coming up with new reasons to shit on one another.
You can tell a lot about a dude by whom he calls gay. A man who sees gayness behind every curtain is a closeted gay man. There’s nothing wrong with gayness, but here’s what that dude doesn’t get:
Brotherly love.
It’s not exclusive to men who are actually related; it’s honest, non-sexual, and borne out of respect. Mutual admiration. It transcends race better than anything else. It’s looking at another man, and thinking to yourself; “What if he was my brother?”
To a woman, a “brother” means something different; depending on order of birth, it could mean a protector, or someone that must be protected. Relations between brothers and sisters are complex, and vary based on parental influence. This makes “brotherly love” an abstract concept for women. Typically, men keep mum about it even more so than Fight Club, which doesn’t build any bridges of understanding either.
Recently, with the extinction of privacy, women went a bit overboard with the judgments. I think it’s not entirely your fault, ladies, but social media made it much too easy to scratch your gossip itch. Then you clustered up based on your interests, and conditioned yourselves against opposing opinions or ideas. You began treating your actual friends like variables. Numbers.
Then you see a picture of a nude woman, and report it as an offense, while at the same time calling topless females in public New York “freeing”, and condemning anyone who disagrees.
It’s called totalitarianism. The polar opposite of brotherly love.
Think before you censor. You could be teaching your children that the natural human form is bad. You could be subliminally judging their appearance. You could prejudice them against other people, or the opposite sex, or their own bodies. Or you.
And that wouldn’t be very brotherly.
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