Do you know what I really love about women? Aside, I mean, from all the soft, curvy bits they have, which are pretty much guaranteed to turn my higher-level brain functions off and send my IQ plummeting to some number smaller than my shoe size . . . I tell you, a nice brunette in a black dress, with a sultry look in her eye that could set a room on fire, and I'm putty in her hands. Throw in a nice Southern accent, even just the hint of one, and it's game over, she'll have me doing whatever she wants me to do . . .
But I digress from the question, the answer to which may not be as obvious as it would seem. What I really love about women is that they are always right. It's true. Just ask them.
No, really, I mean it. Guys, ask yourself this question: have you ever won an argument with a woman? Of course you haven't, because even when you're right, you're wrong, and you wind up losing anyway. Think about it.
Yet there is another level to that, one that we of the male half of the species rarely consider, generally because we're spending so much time sleeping on the couch and wondering what went wrong. Not only are women always right, they also control everything. Granted, that might not be too terribly difficult to accomplish, seeing as how God was kind enough to provide men with two heads but only enough blood to use one of them at a time, but it doesn't change that simple fact.
What I mean by all this is that women have managed to quite effectively gain control of and rewrite the rules of behaviour in our society. I remember, for instance, a time when holding a door open for a woman and allowing her to precede you was considered an act of social grace. Now, however, it seems that nine out of ten times I hold that same door open for a woman, I am somehow signalling my belief that she is incapable of caring for herself and denying her dignity and self-worth as a human being by trumpeting a belief that I am superior because I have a penis. Um . . . what?
Men are told that women should not be objectified, and that they are more than just a walking womb. Well, of course they are. But then those same women walk around in Summer wearing tank tops with no bras, and little tight shorts with cutesy messages printed across their bottoms . . . and then get upset when we look. Let's not even discuss swimsuits . . . Yep, men are pigs, it seems.
I really just can't help but chuckle over our - meaning us guys - incurable sexism. Something, it seems, which is hard-wired into us, despite the female half of the race's attempts to enlighten us and cure us. But consider this scenario. It is apparently perfectly acceptable for female office workers to gather around and discuss how cute the UPS guy is and what a great set of buns - woman-speak for ass - he has. Yet when you reverse the genders of everyone involved in that situation, all of a sudden you've got an HR emergency and, at the very least, a session with the "sensitivity trainer" in your future.
Curious, that. But I have it on reliable authority from the females I know that I just don't get it. And you know what? They're right. Of course.
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