Greer on a Bike!
A v.broken attempt to explain my relationship with feminism. It’s all over t’shop – I do apologise…
Following on from my rant about the publication that considers itself to report the real news from Dewsbury, I have ended up in several subsequent arguments in the same vein. Which is fine. I want people to voice their opinions – it helps everyone to get it out of their systems and refine their views. But what I find vastly irritating, is that most of the time, the people arguing against me have no reasoning to back up their statements and any information they’re working from has been gleaned from sources exactly like The “Real” Dewsbury News, which tote nothing but anti-Islamic hate propaganda.
Recently, I found myself having debates with people, and not just on the subject of Islam, that have ended with me going: “What the fuck?!” and walking away in sheer frustration. As someone said to me recently: “Even racists should have a voice,” and I concur wholeheartedly. For one thing, voicing racist (or homophobic or misogynistic or transphobic &c.) views will “out” that person as a bigot; it will also allow people to argue on the contrary, which in rare cases may change the mind of said racist; and it poses questions that a non-racist may not have considered, which gives us further understanding of why people feel the need to needlessly hate entire races of people.
And I do want to understand; truly, I do! Most people have reasons for their opinions, and whether that opinion is based on an experience, propaganda, the media or outright fact, it is the product of rational(ish) thought, even if it does belong to someone who is ill informed. And so I don’t just disregard a racist comment – I invite the racist to offer an explanation. And do I ever get one? Do I bollocks! I ask why someone believes what they believe and I get back an entirely new bald statement along similar lines, or I get called a name and sworn at. On the odd occasion that someone has offered further insight, the information I’ve been given has been hazy. I was lucky enough to find myself embroiled in such an argument a few weeks back: what had started as a comment on Facebook about the Lib Dems and had nothing to do with international politics, was suddenly about the EDL – absolutely no reason to bring that up, but the person that did so had obviously been in possession of the irrelevance stick that day. Regardless of how this all came about, I found myself faced with the following:
“There are local councillors in Kirklees who privately support sharia law ffs. If no mainstream politicians will deal with that, then people will turn to those who will.”
To which I said that, if that was the case, then those people (who purportedly support sharia law) should be investigated. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this country allows freedom of speech: speech – not actions. People are free to believe and say what they like, but they should absolutely not be allowed to fuck with our basic human rights. We have laws that are put in place for our protection and freedom. I’m not suggesting that we allow the Muslim faith to in any way overtake English culture when I say that Muslims should be treated with as much respect as anyone else. Pakistan is practically a police state because of the beliefs of its government and England does not have the same culture – should never have the same culture. In any case, I’ve spoken to people who have left Pakistan to escape its extreme laws, so I find it hard to believe that every Muslim would like to recreate a UK version of Pakistan.
I’m also not saying that there are no Muslims in the UK with extreme views – I’m certain that there are some who would happily stone every non-Muslim – but we allow Muslims to believe what they want to believe, the same way that we allow Christians to believe what they believe, and the way that we allow Jews to believe what Jews believe, and atheists to not believe what they don’t believe, and the white supremacists to believe what they believe. Again, it is one thing to believe something, but it is quite another to use that belief as an excuse to exercise violence. To think about stoning someone is v.v.different from actually stoning them. To want to beat someone up for being of a different race is v.v.different to actually doing it. We have no thought police and we never should have; so until someone acts, or threatens to act, upon an extreme belief, then no, our current politicians will not step in, because those people have done nothing wrong in terms of the law. How could a politician reasonably hound someone on the off chance that they had a bad thought or three?
But, really, where did the information come from that local MPs agree with Sharia law anyway? Damned if I know. Presumably The “Real” Dewsbury News. I’ll probably never know. And if I’d asked the question, the person on the receiving end of the question would no doubt have said something like: “It’s just a fact. Everyone knows it,” which in my book isn’t enough to condemn a whole section of our society.
Anyway – why I came here today was to dissect the screen shots from my previous post a little further. Mainly because the irrelevance of some of the comments amused me… and the hatred in some of the comments scared and saddened me.
To be honest, this isn’t an irrelevant comment. It’s not a well informed comment, but it’s one of the more intelligent responses. Personally, I think that any town would reasonably allow a road closure for an hour to celebrate a religious holiday. Until recently, I lived next to Burley, which has a massive Asian community, and have occasionally waltzed into the midst of some festivity or another.
The road that runs off mine* was closed for a secular street party recently. There was no reason for it; it was just a street party. Muslims and non-Muslims alike would have been welcome.
When I attended a Free Palestine march a while ago, the whole of Leeds city centre was closed to make way.
When the women of England take to the streets in their underwear to march for the right to be able to walk down any street dressed however they like and not be molested, the roads are closed then. The slut walk is something that not everyone understands, but we are allowed to march. That is a show of power: it’s a show of female power; not to say that we are better or plan to overtake the men, but just to make the point that we are strong, we are together, we are free, and we should be allowed as much respect as any man.
That’s not to mention the fun runs that take place all over the country and involve road closures.
And the irrelevance kicks in. What in the name of holy crap does that person’s kids have to do with this subject? I mean, really. Aside from the fact that I know full well that this person celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ not long before this post, there is absolutely no correlation between a religious festival and the fruit of this person’s loins. It’s nice that this person loves their kids… nothing to do with international politics, though. Can you imagine if David Cameron was asked to comment on a particular issue and he said: “Oh, I only care about my kids, really. Why are you doing something that isn’t my about my children?”?!
Road closures. Well, they’re annoying, I admit. They’re annoying regardless of the reason. Having researched the traditional ways in which Muslims celebrate Muhammad’s birthday, though, I have discovered that most of them, in fact, don’t celebrate it at all. But those that do mark the occasion with a procession; and, unfortunately, that means that a road was closed for a bit. Read the diversion signs if you need to drive down that particular road and get over it, is all I can say. I suspect that this person didn’t have to drive down that road, in which case it had no bearing on their life.
Show of power? I’m willing to bet that those Muslims couldn’t have given a shit what the non-Muslim community was up to on that particular day. They were celebrating a religious festival in the traditional way. And even if it was a show of power – so what? They closed a street for an hour and it affected next to nobody. Well, that showed you, didn’t it? So did all the millions of articles and photographs that came out of the march. Except that there is nothing about it anywhere (and believe me, I’ve searched). A non-event for non-Muslims – so why all the bloody fuss?
Childish and cruel.
Obviously not. As I have already said: Pakistan is practically a police state. But England allows its people to celebrate whatever they like however they like, as long as they’re breaking no law – pagans, Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Buddists, Clingons and all.
In addition, Christmas is not traditionally celebrated with a procession, so even if a group of Christians was allowed to march down a street in Pakistan at Christmas, that really would be a “show of power”. We celebrate Christmas by gathering our people around us and inebriating ourselves – not by marching.
No, Commenter, it’s a procession! And I’m pretty sure if non-Muslims had shown up at the procession and, in a non-threatening, amicable way, joined in, then the Muslims would have been bemused and confused (possibly initially wary and taken aback), but carried on regardless. And if not, how would this particular commenter have taken it if a Muslim had shown up to join in with carol singing at Christmas? Or if a Muslim had let him/herself in, sat down at the table and started helping him/herself to turkey? Not so well, I’d like to warrant.
And we’re steaming away with ourselves on the irrelevance front again. I mean what the fuck is this silly bitch on about? Firstly, I’m pretty unclear as to who it is that has disrespected “our troops” (I suspect the Muslims, but I really can’t speculate). Secondly, what would she like to happen to those who “disrespect our troops”? Imprisonment? Castration? Stoning? She is allowed to be disrespectful of others, but believes that nobody should be disrespectful to someone she respects.
In any case those are, again, two completely disparate issues. By troops, I presume she means the British army, and by disrespect, I presume she actually means kill. In which case – it’s a war. You can’t really arrest people for killing people who have come into their country to kill them. Do you see what I’m saying? I don’t like war, but even I understand that!
That person has clearly just stubbed their toe or stepped on an upturned plug. I sympathise deeply.
That person obviously found a great, steaming turd in their breakfast. Moving on…
Well, that was in response to me saying something about Muslims not giving a crap about non-Muslims on a holy day. Instead of giving me a decent argument, the commenter just thought it best to insult me. I presume that the commenter thought I was going to give up and cry or something. My silly little lady brain sometimes works that way… oh, wait – fuck off! No it doesn’t. If that person genuinely thinks I’m naïve, then that’s fine. But I think it naïve to make an argument with no basis, to believe that every person of any given race is exactly the same, or that every person from any given race only ever thinks about getting rid of people who aren’t of that race. Not every non-Muslim is like you, the same way that not every Muslim is like Osama Bin Laden. The dangerous few spoil it for everyone else and give them a bad name; the beardy-weirdy Islamic extremists spoil it for your average decent Muslim, and the fascist, white supremacist gits spoil it for your average, decent non-Muslim.
Was in response to my saying: “Ooh – there’s a Muslim guy on here. Ask him what it’s all about.”
The words in that paragraph that stand out like a dildo at a tea party are “alleged” and “investigated.” Innocent until proven guilty, my friend.
I’ve already answered this comment in my last post, but what I said was that where there are politics and/or religion, there is corruption. It may not be nice, but there it is.
Rarely do these things pass peacefully? Well, that’s just plain wrong. Not only did that march pass peacefully, there was absolutely no coverage of it and war was not declared on the non-Muslims.
Um… unless there’s something in the Qur’an that I’m missing (I haven’t got round to reading it yet – I’m still working my way through the Bible), I have no idea what this jerk-off is talking about. I suspect that they are pulling the most offensive remark they can think off out of thin air and applying it to the Muslim faith. In which case, the comment is null and void and utterly utterly infantile.
Also, if someone put in an application to have a street party for St. George’s Day, I’m pretty sure it would go through the same channels and wouldn’t be a problem. Like I said: there was a street party on my street recently. For no apparent reason.
The hate-mongers themselves. If The “Real” Dewsbury News believes that screen shots of what people are saying would be a bad thing, then they know full well that what they publish is there to provoke a bad reaction.
Unfortunately, the majority of the EDL sympathisers appear to be illiterate and uneducated, and the writers of The “Real” Dewsbury News are no more eloquent. So little so, in fact, that any reader is asked to refrain from correcting their English or grammar at risk of being blocked from making further comments. Not education advocates, then.
Aw – commenter sticking up for me. I’ll give that commenter their due – I really appreciated them acknowledging that the censorship was wrong and that it would royally piss me off.
That person just awoke with a raging erection following a dream in which a bestockinged Nick Griffin tickled his anus with a long, pink feather. I speculate, but that’s the most obvious scenario I can think of.
Presumably, this person is insinuating that everyone wants the Muslims to leave. As a non-Muslim, I can say that I don’t. Aside from the fact that I have Muslim friends here, there are a lot of Muslims who are English. This is their home – how could we justify sending them elsewhere?
There was no reasoning given for wanting these people to leave the country, but I wasn’t allowed to comment, so I couldn’t ask.
Um… wrong! There would have been a police presence at the Muslim procession, just as there is at other marches. The following pictures are marches and processions that go on all the time… oh wait. I typed “March Dewsbury” into Google and guess what came up… no Muslim marches, but a shit load of EDL related ones! There are a couple of other march pictures thrown in there for good measure.
– NHS supporters
– EDL member saluting a la Hitler
– UAF Anti-fascists
– UAF anti-fascists
– EDL march
– UAF anti-fascists
– EDL March
– EDL march
I am a bit baffled. This person appears to be sending a message of love (with fifteen or so kisses) praises the current coalition government and says that “we” (that is to say “us”) are the ones that have it wrong. I don’t actually know whether the “us” is in reference to the people in the conversation or “us” in general… if anyone could shed any light on this, I’d be v.grateful.
Do you know, when I look at that last two march pictures above, when I see people seething with hate like that, people who would harm me for my beliefs and my sexuality (oh yes – they don’t like me for counter-arguing, but they also have something deeper, personal and far more scary against me) I want to attach fucking bayonets and run each and every one through, I really do. But that is a childish knee jerk of mine. Then I calm myself. I think about the fact that a member of my family is, unfortunately, a BNP voter. I think about my cousins and what that person means to them. I realise (because I’m not a fucking nazi wanker) that these people are still just that… people. I calm myself down and I think rationally. I disagree with what they are doing and I have rational thought behind me (which the few of them I’ve spoken to don’t seem to have), but they are entitled, as inhabitants of this country, to voice their opinions too.
What this commenter has failed to do, is get beyond their visceral reaction and question why they feel this way. You know – like a child having a paddy.
Dude – when did they ever claim to be a religion of peace? When did any religion apart from Buddhism? I’m reading the bible cover to cover and all I’m getting from Christianity is wrath. I will read the Qur’an next. Pretty sure it doesn’t say it in there either.
Will you be able to walk with them? Yes. Will you be able to take a Union Jack? No – because the union jack is now associated with the BNP and ethnic cleansing, unfortunately (the Muslims didn’t spoil that – the BNP/NF/EDL did!). Will you be able to take a parachute banner? Um… probably. It would be like taking a “Happy Birthday” banner to Christmas Day, but ok.
Muslim people have suffered, in the past, horrific abuse from the UK. The Empire. As has the rest of the world. The UK started with the animosity, years ago. We still think we have that power. We don’t. Then Pakistani immigrants came seeking asylum – they were abused for looking different and for believing different things. The next generation of Muslims was brought up here – when they were under attack, they started to fight back. Racial aggression against non-Muslims by Muslims is not acceptable, but neither is aggression against Muslims, and people who gave them a hard time in the past could hardly have expected the Muslims to sit back and be abused.
If a non-muslim tried to march with them, it would all probably be fine, although that non-muslim would be regarded with suspicion. Would they kill you? Maybe, if they had the chance. How many of their family members have been brutally and verbally attacked by white supremacists? What would you do to them if they showed up Christmas day? You start a war, you get a fight back. I’m not saying it’s right, but what the white supremacists do is also not right.
A profession of immortality. See – these people are children. Full grown children with no cerebral development at all.
Do you know – I think I’m done.
What I want to say to these people is this: you think you are the goodies and that they are the baddies. Well, we raped that fucking country when we arrived all those years ago – we abused our position and we took what wasn’t ours. There is no such thing as a “goodie” or a “baddie.” There is no black and white; only shades of grey (I hate that bloody woman who wrote those terrible books. She’s totally spoilt that for me). Perhaps you should do some growing up and learn about the world, learn about different cultures and ethnicities before you stomp around with your indignation and hatred aimed at anyone who isn’t exactly like you. We are a teeny, tiny country in a wonderfully diverse world. The beliefs of fascists appear to be unfounded and the reasoning given is irrelevant. If someone can give me a well-rounded argument in favour of racism, I’d love to hear it.
* Park Mount in Kirkstall, Leeds. I can say this now, because I have just upped sticks and shipped myself off to greener pastures.
I don’t care whether you’re a wanker or a liar (because you’re either one or the other), if you’re old enough to be reading this blog, you will at some point have downed trou and flicked the bean, bashed the bishop, beaten the meat, done the five finger shuffle, bludgeoned the beef steak, jacked off, buffed the muffin, milked the cow, burped the worm, or whatever term you choose to use whilst in the throes of abusing yourself. Men and women alike do this and, as has already been proven (and as we already know, if we’re being honest with ourselves), women are as stimulated by erotica as men. So why are there so few female porn flick directors?
I get v.upset by the men in porn. So much so that I haven’t watched a straight porno in going on seven years. Straight porn movies seem to revolve around the amount of aggression that can be poured into the sexual act. The aesthetics of the men in porn don’t do it for me, for a start: lumpy with muscle, greased, hairless, clumsy, with massive cocks that they thrust into the dry, unwelcoming hole on offer. The noises emitted by the false-breasted, orange-skinned, heavily made-up women start the instant they’re penetrated, in whatever sense, and don’t stop until the man has reached his climax. And, let me tell you, if a woman’s making those noises so soon into the act and for so long, you’re either hurting her or she’s faking it.
But, that’s something else: nobody seems to care whether the woman is enjoying herself; you couldn’t even say that anyone’s convinced by the false cries, the: “Oh, yeah, oh baby, oh my gosh* yeah…” It could be that I am a particularly ineloquent lay: I may be able to break concentration enough to manage a garbled: “Gonna come,” but I generally don’t bother, because I’m too busy. I’m too busy thinking about me and what I’m getting from it all to be concerned about how I look or what I sound like. Of course, if my partner intimated that they weren’t enjoying what I was enjoying, I would change tack, because I want them to have as good a time as I. But that’s something else – the people in your average porn film couldn’t give two shits about the person they’re with. I’m not expecting love or gushing romantic declarations, for God’s sake (we’re talking about sex here), but I would like, just for once, for those people to engage with one another. I want an element of respect and enjoyment.
So, let’s say, I’ve found some lesbian porn on Red Tube and I settle myself down in front of my incognito window:-
Step One: I wait for it to load, I hit play, I hear cheesy music, which I’m going to try to ignore, there are two women on the screen… and then I hear a man’s voice. There’s my hardon gone. May as well go and have a piece of toast and watch another episode of Poirot – there’s no way I’m going to be able to get my freak on now. Even if these women were gay, which I seriously doubt, they’re having to perform to a man’s tune. Not sexy.
Step Two: I study the women. They’re sitting on a leather sofa, and they’re both a strange shade of orange with lashings of heavy make-up, dressed in tight mini-skirts, with spiked, clear heels and tube tops. I’m already losing momentum. Girls emulating Jordan, who, bless her silly little cottons, never really did it for me.
Step Three: I manage to get over the first hurdles and the girls undress. Oh dear, holy fuck! One of them has clearly had a breast enlargement that will undoubtedly cause her back problems, and they both sport totally bald frufrus with non-existent labia. I could believe it if just one of them had the mini-lips – it’s not so common in nature, but it does sometimes happen – but the fact that they’re clones of each other down there smacks of vaginal surgery and this makes me seething angry.
Step Four: they haven’t taken the ridiculous shoes off and it doesn’t look like they’re about to.
Step Five: they start kissing… or something. It looks like it’s vastly unpleasant – they flap their lipsticked mouths around each other passionlessly, often missing the mouth and smearing spit on chins and cheeks. It’s probably because they’re not paying attention to each other or connecting – they’re looking at the man behind the camera, and the look on their faces is part sham lust and part enquiry. At what appears to be a remark from the cameraman, the one with the more natural looking breasts shoots out a hand and abrasively pinches one of the silicone mounds attached to her colleague’s chest. I wince in sympathy. A similar thing happened to me once when I was thirteen and snogging behind the drama studio. It was vastly unpleasant, but at least my voluminous checked shirt and baggy black fantasy T-shirt protected me from the full impact of bony fingers.
Step Six: one of them (the one with the falseys) suddenly lies down and whips her legs akimbo to give us the full on impact of the depilated wonder at the top of her thighs. She is not aroused. You would have to be an idiot to not know that – I’m not even sure you’d have ever needed to see an aroused woman to know that. Her bajingo looks like a sad chicken wing.
Step Seven: the other woman moves towards the chicken wing with a look of grim determination; she reaches out and prods it with a long, acrylic nail… whoa whoa whoa. Now, I was starting to suspect (just a teeeeeeeeeeeny weeeeeeeeny bit) that these girls were not actually gay; just a hunch, not that I like to judge on appearance alone. But this just about makes me choke with laughter. There is a reason gay and bisexual women don’t have long nails… and if you don’t know that reason, then you are clearly not a gay or bisexual woman.
Step Eight: on prodding it, the be-taloned one realises that it’s going to be difficult to get the enormous dildo, which is lying conveniently on the coffee table, into the chicken wing because the other party is not even remotely turned on, so she gobs on it and gives it a nice, affectionate slap to boot. If I had managed to get to this point in proceedings in a real situation, which I doubt, I would be now shouting: “Oh come on! Give me a break!”
Step Nine: the gobber reaches out and rubs the chicken wing in a bizarre way that makes me wonder if she thinks a genie is about to pop out of it, at which point, the gobbed on woman starts writhing and moaning loudly. Then with a look of obvious distaste, the gobber stops rubbing and advances on the chicken wing with her shiny, fuchsia mouth. Between the two “acts,” there is no contact at all between the two women, but the woman on her back still moans away (?). There is some funky nonsense with the dildo, which is grotesquely big and, despite spit, the woman doing the work is struggling to insert it into the chicken wing. She even tries to look like she’s enjoying sucking the rubber implement (which she can’t get into her mouth) before trying again (woman on back is still groaning away) and finally manages to get it to look like it’s doing something, although I suspect it’s just balanced.
Step Ten: three forceful and graceless licks later, the woman on her back starts making even louder noises and so does the woman licking (??) before the woman on her back, who is completely unflushed and composed, stares deep into the eyes of the camera, licks her lips, roughly grabs one of her giant breasts and licks that for good measure, then gives a bizarre scream, seizes the head of the gobber, pulls her up towards her and kisses her in a similar fashion to Step.
Then they both stare at the camera licking their lips and the picture fades out.
I do not have enough time to go through what is wrong here – if you don’t know then you need some lessons in sex and the sensuality. I watched from beginning to end with gruesome fascination. This is where the next generation of young men are getting their ideas about sex, women, the human anatomy and lesbianism. And, presumably, that counts for young women too. This is one of the reasons, despite the work of many feminists, that we are still expected to have long, bleached hair and huge tits, why we’re all supposed to have washboard stomachs and small fanny lips and great, big, bleached colonically cleansed arseholes, and no hair anywhere except on our heads (and heaven forbid that a woman may have any hair whatsoever on her face). This is why some men have no concept of how long it takes a woman to actually come, and why they think that lesbians and bisexuals are just doing it for the male attention***. And it’s why women who don’t come in thirty seconds feel like there’s something wrong with them.
Suffice it to say that the above video did absolutely nothing for me, and not just because surrounding the screen were adverts depicting women being raped by men, of women being raped by CGI monsters, and a girl who, apparently, lived in my area was naked, wanted sex and kept calling me “big boy…” although these things were most definitely off-putting.
More women need to get involved with the porn industry. There is no stopping pornography – not that I’d want to – it’s huge and lucrative, and as long as the human race is alive and masturbating there will be a market for it. But it is a man’s business at the minute and that’s not on, if you ask me. Especially when to allow it to be purely a man’s world leads to lack of information, lack of choice and a growing pressure for women to conform, not just in looks but in bed – I hate that we’re all supposed to look a certain way, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let what someone else thinks of me ruin my sex life. We’ve hardly come a long way, us womenfolk, if we’re still expected to make the right noises so that a man feels good about himself in the sack to the detriment of our own pleasure.
I want to watch a video where each party is having as much fun as the other. I also want these images of women effectively being raped to be banned. There’s a difference between a rape fantasy that is a fantasy for each, and the public rape of a woman because she needs to pay the bills and feels she can’t refuse. I have seen some horrific videos – they’re not simulations; we’re talking hardcore pornography here – of women having huge cocks forced into their mouths while they sob, of men thrusting fists** into women’s bleached anuses while they scream. These videos actually make me blanch. And before anyone says it: NO! They are not enjoying it. It’s their job to pretend they’re enjoying it so that you can get off, but it is clearly not the case and you, as the consumer of such videos, know this, but try to justify it to yourself by making out that you’re doing these women a favour by giving them an outlet.
There’s an aggression that goes with the porn industry that I hate. Yes, sex is an animal act, and in being so, somewhat aggressive, but there is a sort of blind hatred towards women in porn. I can’t remember the exact title of the film I’ve mentioned above, but it was something like “Dykes in Heat Suck Dripping Twat.” Nice. And categorically inaccurate. I’ve also come across “Hot Slots,” “Bitches with Fingers in All Holes,” “Hard Clits and Soggy Twats” and “Interracial Sluts Don’t Need Dick.”
I’m sure there is some good stuff out there (occasionally, I find some and breathe a sigh of relief), but there most certainly isn’t enough. I’m not averse to Abbey Winters, and Liz Thomas seems to have done some ok stuff, although I’m not convinced it’s not a man working under a pseudonym. Some of the amateur stuff is ok, but come on people: I want the choice of watching some real sex with real people directed by real women, for God’s sake. You know – women with flaps and normal coloured skin and breasts that jiggle and fall into their armpits when they lie down because that’s what breasts do (and they’re no less beautiful for it). I want those women to direct other women with the same attributes. I want a female director to insist that all parties climax before they stop filming, and actually climax; truly climax; gurn and go pink in the face and say any stupid thing that pops into their heads at that moment in time like people actually do when they orgasm.
What I want, is real gay women who want to have sex in front of a camera and who want everyone involved to be having a good time. I want real straight sex where the women call the shots fifty percent of the time (and not in a fetishist way, which is the only time that ever happens at the minute) and actually orgasm; real orgasms; orgasms you can see as well as hear. There would be far less taboo about the smutty world of porn if women were as equally involved in its creation, and equally as expected to watch.
In addition, I have spoken to some of the men in my life on this subject, and they have all said something similar to me. I mean, they’re hardly going to admit that they regularly fantasise about rape, are they? but they all genuinely seemed to be put off by the falsity of most pornography. In fact, all of them said the same thing at some point in the conversation…
… It’s too fake!
* This is generally your American porn star that chooses to “gosh” rather than “God.” Amusing, is it not, that the next words out of her mouth to the stranger with whom she’s engaging in sexual relations may be: “Fuck me harder,” but that to blaspheme would really not be on?
** And while we’re on the subject of fisting, most men think that it involves punching a woman in the cervix. Boys – don’t do this or it will also involve you being punched in the face.
*** “I think what a woman like you needs, is a man like me to straighten you out…” this was, I think, the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard a man say on the subject of bisexuality. I presume he was expecting a lip pouting in response and some over the top innuendo before he received a blow job for being “clever” enough to crack the Bisexual Code.
Fairly recently, the lovely El Kitten and I went for cocktails and, not having seen each other for a couple of months, a lot of chatting. At the time, I was midway through posting my marriage rants and, El being married to the wonderful Mike Infinitum, we conversationally veered in that direction. We don’t necessarily see eye to eye on the subject of marriage, although I have to admit that El’s wedding was a small, intimate, rockabilly affair with the most amazing red 1950s swing dress, and balloons and table spreads by yours truly*. Her relationship with her husband is as fabulous as it was on their wedding day and that’s plain for all to see… so why, I repeat why, does everyone now feel the need to pressurise them for children? Can society not leave them be to enjoy each other and do as they please? If they don’t want kids, they don’t want them. If they do decide that they want kids, what the hell has that to do with anyone else?!
Although I myself am not averse to the idea of sproggers – somewhere in a future so distant I still refer to it as “when I grow up**” – what happens if you are married and are destined to be child free? Obviously, not having succumbed to the marriage palaver myself, questions about when I’m going to have kids are few and far between, so it wasn’t something that had occurred to me until rabbiting away with the kitten over a well made Kajuma***. That society puts people under pressure in any regard is unpleasant enough, and I can’t say that the children thing has ever really bothered me, but on the back of the conversation I had with El, in which she was incensed about the brazen lack of privacy of people, she sent me the following article…
I love it. I love it so much, I tweeted it. Of course, I upset some people. So what else is new? Twitter is a fantastic place to find events, share the love, promote your work and begin debates, but it is not a good forum for holding said debates. 140 characters a well thought out interjection does not make. The thing that enraged one particular lady was the suggestion that a stay at home mum was wrong to not work… a statement I never made and don’t necessarily agree with.
I admit that I am slightly biased in this regard, though. It was drummed into me from an early age that I would get a job and from that moment on would never be out of work, whether I stayed in that same job or found another. Ma Mum worked full time as I was growing up and because of this I feel that I developed a fierce independence and that I appreciate her presence so much more as an adult. So, though I try to fight it, my initial reaction on learning that someone doesn’t work (whether with or without sproggers) is always to pull a scornful face, which is unfortunate and makes me look like a bit of a judgemental twat. I realise that this is my own programming and that it’s not necessarily the correct response, but I do my best to overcome it. Anyway, my parents worked hard and, later on, my mother single-handedly sent me to university, a working-class, single parent. The thing is that, although ma Mum may have wanted to stay at home with me when I was a kid, we just couldn’t afford for her to be out of work. So, immediately, there is the question of cash, which was the other enraged tweeter’s bugbear. If ma Mum hadn’t worked full time for so long, we wouldn’t have been able to afford to move out when my parents split up because she would have lost her independence entirely by being out of work; and I’m sure it goes without saying that ma Mum is as independent, if not more so, than I am. She also wouldn’t have been able to help me through university, though I worked full time in a shop and temped in offices during the Uni holidays for the most part. The thing with becoming dependent upon someone else is that, should it end (and I know nobody wants to think about the end when they’re happy and settled, but it would be naïve not to consider the possibility), you have no way of getting out.
I once lived with a partner myself and, although there was no chance of me becoming a housewife, I had a hard time affording the move to leave anyway. Moving into rented accommodation requires a stupidly expensive admin’ fee, a month and a half’s rent as bond and a month’s rent in advance. You’re talking a sum of at least £1,000 before you’ve ever even really begun (and I’m talking about the cost up north). It kept me trapped in an unhappy relationship for a lot longer than I wanted to be. So much so that the thought of not having had the small amount of money I did have makes me quite panicky to this day. My credit card got a serious bashing that year.
There’s no getting away from the impact that staying at home will have on your finances, your employability and your self-sufficiency. However you look at it, caring for your children and cleaning your house is not a job in the strictest sense of the word. I’m not suggesting that either of these things is easy or pleasurable, but they are chores that anyone with children has to partake of when they’re not working, even if the only time they’re not working is in the evenings. In fact, cleaning your own home is something everyone who can’t afford to hire a cleaner has to do, children or no, although I can see that having children would make the job infinitely more tedious. The stay-at-home Mum simply has more time to do these tasks. I cannot imagine a world where I would have to ask someone for money when I wanted to buy something, whether a necessity or a treat; to lose my independence, my contribution to the household would make me feel castrated and vulnerable. You are incredibly lucky if your household income is such that you are comfortably able to stop work, but if something should happen way down the line, how would you, personally, be able to cope with the blow without some of your own monetary security behind you? The financial argument is not the only one I wish to make on this subject, but money does, unfortunately, play a vital part in our lives and it affects many things. Money is power and freedom, whether we like it or not.
To subsidise my freelance art business, I have an admin’ job, which until recently was based in the pensions industry. I didn’t much care for it – the position required a high level of numerical accuracy, which for someone who suffers from dyscalculia is rather difficult to achieve. Putting maths aside^, one of the most distasteful elements of the job was processing divorce cases, especially ones where an ex-spouse would end up with half of their ex’s pension. This used to do a proper rage on me. In one particular incident, a well paid man had built up a fantastic nest egg of a final salary pension… after his divorce, he was entitled to only 20% of it while his wife walked away with a whopping 80%. Now, I don’t know what happened in that relationship – the man may have sexually abused his ex-wife and beaten her to a pulp every night, in which case, the bastard should definitely pay… but not with his pension. Your pension should be sacred – it’s possibly the only sensible thing some of us do, not that my pension will be anything to write home about. Your pension is your reward for giving up some of your hard-earned cash in the hope that you will live long enough to see it pay out in the future – it is yours because you earned it yourself and if, when it pays out, you wish to share it with someone, then so be it, but you shouldn’t have to share it before it pays out or give some away under duress. To build up a huge pension is really really tough and comes from years of hard graft, and even then what most people end up with is pitiable. So this couple both decided that one of them would work and the other stay at home and they both knew that there was some risk, however small and unlikely it seemed at the time, that they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives together. I’m telling you what, though, this man didn’t know that his ex-wife would be able to get her hands on his pension. It was all news to him. Gutted doesn’t quite describe how he was when we broke the news, a faceless administrator on the other end of a telephone call.
Being at home all day is a luxury most people can’t afford; it may not be a constant holiday, but you have a hell of a lot more freedom. You don’t qualify for a pension of any description if you’ve never worked, but then, and this is a biggy: you’ve never had to work! The people you’re looking after are the people you chose to give birth to and be responsible for, and the house you’re cleaning is your own, so you can hardly expect to be paid for it – a lot of people clean their houses and work full time. Of course, I am simply talking about people who can work but choose not to, not people who cannot get a job because of ill health or sheer bad luck. Being out of work is stressful if it isn’t a choice.
A friend of mine recently became a stay at home dad. This friend is a v.unusual creature in that he has no qualms about what people think of him – he has no stupidly macho ideals. He loves and wants to take care of his son and, because of the rising cost of childcare, it made sense for him to give up his job and become a full time parent. It is not more ok for a father to do this than it is for a mother to do this, and it is in no way wrong that my male mate wants to do this, but what is disconcerting is the fact that he is as vastly outnumbered in his new role as women are in positions of power. There are still a large number of women who acknowledge childbirth as the end of their autonomy and their careers and yet don’t see a problem with that. It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for it to happen and so didn’t think to seriously build a life of their own. As it happens, this friend of mine (I shall forthwith call him Grouse Hunter [GH] for comedic value that none but the friend in question will understand) happens to be married to a woman with a great career. As the cost of the childcare was about what he took home, it made sense for GH to stop working; GH’s son has someone with a vested interest in his overall wellbeing to look after him and the income didn’t change too drastically. This is a rare case scenario. Most men earn more than their spouses and whether that’s to do with unequal pay in the workplace, or whether men are more driven to build a career it is still a feminist issue. Inbuilt attitudes are every bit as powerful as physical actualities and they are something we can change if we work together to instil better principles in the children of today. Before they grow into people who think that men make money and women clean and care for babies.
Most men have the inbuilt attitude (yes still!) that if someone is to give up their career for a life of childcare and housework, it should not be them. In fact, most men won’t even question it. For a start, that’s a bit “gay” isn’t it? Housework and babies are women’s issues, and all that. Regardless of what your average man would say to a woman, there is still a residue of sexism coating their thought processes. A lot of men (please note that I’m not saying “all men”) would be unhappy to earn less than their spouse, let alone allow them complete control of the household finances, as if the v.fact would make their balls shrink. We can’t blame these men entirely for this – it’s the way they’ve been brought up to believe the world works. Admittedly, those who have managed to ignore every feminist rant going must either be v.ignorant or frightfully obtuse, but then a lot of people don’t think too deeply about certain things because they’re still under the illusion that it’s “just the way things are” and it’s never occurred to them that it could be, or should be, any other way.
Most women are given toy dollies as children. Most men aren’t. Women have babies and look after those babies – it’s their raison d’etre, is it not? At least, that’s what we’re brought up to believe. The fact that most stay-at-home parents are mothers means that little boys and little girls learn early on in life that women look after children and men have careers and win the bread. Most nursery nurses are women, so this has the same effect. It’s something that is as ingrained in society as the fairytale wedding. True, if a woman is breastfeeding, she could do with having the babbit in front of her, but then if that is the only reason that so many women are child-looker-after-ers, what are breast pumps for? And breastfeeding doesn’t last forever. If a couple decides to have a baby, both people in that couple should be equally responsible for its upkeep; it shouldn’t be a case of mother looks after the kids because she was the one who gave birth , father brings home the cash and plays with the kids occasionally because fathers are breadwinners.
A savvy employer will look after his staff in order to get the best work out of them and inspire some respect. Mothers get maternity leave to recuperate after pushing something the size of a melon out of something the size of a pencil lead, and these days fathers are granted two weeks paternity leave, which is a start in the bid to encourage men to get more involved with their offspring. But I have overheard my employer say before: “I’m not hiring any more women of child-bearing age – they just get pregnant, get their maternity pay and then leave!” Which both incensed and intrigued me: I am of child-bearing age and even if I were to have a child in the near future^^, I certainly wouldn’t leave because of it. The implication of what my boss had said being that all women will either become full time mothers or drop their hours down to work part time if they have a child… or that all women of child-bearing age clearly want children. But then, given how many women have left the office or dropped their hours down for just such reason, part of me doesn’t blame him. If I was an employer, knowing as I do that society insists on women of a certain age becoming broody and having the urge to give up their own income, I probably would hire more men. More men work full time than women. Men generally earn more than women. Men tend to be the people at the top of the business food-chain, as they are in government. Men are the majority that run the world, and why wouldn’t they be when we women don’t do anything to oppose them? When we happily sit back and allow them to run the show whilst we nurture the next generation of misdirected people? If we want things to ever improve, we need to get some women into positions of power and to change the way people perceive the sexes. We need to get an equal amount of stay-at-home Dads as stay-at-home Mums, if there is to be a parent to stay at home at all. If my employer considers women in their 20s and 30s as a flight risk, then others must consider them so; but if more Dads stayed at home, the position would become equally as risky to hire men, or less risky to hire women; whichever way you look at it, it’s an improvement.
If you don’t believe that men prevail in positions of power, try this: Inga Muscio, in her wonderful book, Cunt, suggested that you walk around your flat/house/caravan/wigwam and pop a gold sticker on everything you own that was invented or created by a woman. Then go out and invest in some things that were invented/created by a woman. When your place of residence has as many gold stickers as not, then we’ve cracked it.
I realise that decent childcare plays a large part of the decision for one parent to stay at home – I was v.lucky in that my Grandmother was willing (for a cost) to take care of me in the school holidays and after school until my mother could collect me. As that was several moons ago, the cost of having your child kept alive whilst you are at work has exploded to ridiculous heights and there should definitely be an overhaul of childcare costs in some way – especially when it’s a necessity that children are looked after and looked after well. Clichéd as it sounds, children are the future and should be taught well and brought up healthily, because when Alzheimer’s beckons us, we want some bright young thing to have made a significant scientific breakthrough in the quest for a cure, even if the end product is nowhere in sight. We want to cark it knowing that the world is in safe hands. And it all starts with those noisy, runny little fuckers that charge about in nappies and put sticky hand prints on everything. Unfortunately, I have no idea what would have to happen in the world for there to be affordable and yet excellent childcare… mainly because I don’t have children and haven’t become involved in the nursery game yet. But if one of the reasons women become stay-at-home mothers is down to childcare costs and poor childcare, when in actual fact they want to work, then I think something needs to be done about it.
But childcare is something of a tangent. The fact remains that far more women choose the stay at home option over men, leaving more men in full time jobs and high positions. And the crux of the matter is that while this is the case, feminism still has cause to burn.
As an aside, I’d be willing to bet that GH’s son will be as well-balanced, successful and beautiful as his parents, with GH and Wife of GH to guide him through the misogynistic pitfalls every step of the way. See, “AC/DC kid” – not even a year old and people are writing about you!
* We ran out of helium mid-balloon blowing and there was a mad rush before the ceremony as we sent out to Clintons.
** I recently met a great lady who, despite being a successful civil engineer, still refers to the future in the same way. I’m taking this as a sign that I am not alone.
*** A Kajuma is a cocktail served at Browns in Leeds. I fell in love with this little, deep-red drink. So I
googled it and came up with kajuma.wordpress.com… spooky stuff.
^ And aside I’d be happy to leave it for the duration of my life
^^ Don’t panic – I’m being hypothetical!
The Stepford Wives (of course) (the proper one, not that shite with Nicole Kidman)
Another of the reasons I disagree with marriage between a man and a woman is that same sex couples are not allowed to do it. Oh, of course, they can have civil ceremonies, but that’s not exactly the same thing, is it? If it was the same thing, it would be a wedding and a marriage, not a civil service and civil partnership. Aside from the fact that it’s called something different, married gay couples are not entitled to the same benefits as straight ones. Evidently, I don’t understand why anyone would want to marry at all, but that aside, why are same sex couples denied the option to have a marriage with as much import as straight couples? If people are forever encouraging straight couples to marry, why aren’t gay couples encouraged to for the same reasons? Could anyone ever say that gay couples are less in love? Of course not. That’s absurd. Love is love. Whoever* it’s happening between. Do people take offence because it’s “wrong” in the eyes of God? If so, then presumably, any marriage that doesn’t fit into those strict guidelines would be “wrong.” It would be wrong to get married if you weren’t religious, for a start.
This is not an argument in which I’m going to bang on about the fact that placing someone into a box like “Gay” or “Straight” is ludicrous. I’m not going to wax lyrical on how sexuality is fluid and how it makes no sense to take such offence simply because you don’t understand why one person is attracted to another. Some woman married Nick Griffin of all people – I don’t understand it, the v.thought knocks me quite sick in fact, but I don’t think that it warrants me burning crosses on her lawn or condemning her to Hell. The man may be a slimy, hate-filled, Nazi with a brain the size of a poppy seed; he may resemble the creature from the black lagoon, or something that’s been plunged out of a drain never before unblocked, but there’s no accounting for taste, is there? All it boils down to is attraction at the end of the day and how can I deny a person that?
I’m not going to bang on about gay rights, because this post isn’t about that, no matter how strongly I feel that homosexuality (should there be a thing so easily labelled in the fickle nature of human sexuality) streaks through us all and that you‘re just attracted to the person, not the gender. This blog is not about how disgust is a man-made feeling, designed to control our actions – in terms of hygiene, it does this v.well; in terms of disfigurement &c., not so much. Still, boundaries bind less than one would think and the blurring edges merge and converge until one subject cannot be broached without summoning another. So it is, in part, relevant to allude to these things… no matter how much this post isn’t about them.
On the subject of gay marriage, I recently had the following conversation, which I think sums things up nicely:-
T’OTHER PERSON: I don’t care if people want** to be gay, I just don’t think they should be allowed to get married.
ME: Why not?
T’OTHER PERSON: Because marriage is between a man and a woman***.
ME: Well, actually, if you’re going to be parochial, marriage is between a man and a woman in the eyes of God.
T’OTHER PERSON [with no small degree of vehement concurrence]: Yes! Exactly! It’s sacred.
ME: Oh… I didn’t know you were religious!
T’OTHER PERSON: I’m not.
ME [stunned pause while I wait for the nonsensical aspect of what “t’other person” has just said to sink into their heads]…
T’OTHER PERSON [clearly losing argument and so roaring slightly]: It’s tradition!
Of course, this person hadn’t ever thought about why they felt the way they did – they’d just been told somewhere along the line that it wasn’t the done thing and run with it. This person knows nothing about gay people other than that they fancy people of the same sex – something this person’s learned to think of as abominable. Would this person dare to judge a straight person on their heterosexuality alone? No, of course not. Would this person claim to know enough about a straight person to make a judgement of them? Again, of course not. But, apparently, the majority of society sees the act of coming out as a way of eradicating every other quality, quirk, flaw and idiosyncrasy. As far as the ignorant are concerned, if you’re gay, bisexual, transgender, transsexual &c. then that is ALL you are and it isn’t the way they want you to be, so you definitely shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with the “normal” people.
If people are going to make offensive sweeping statements, they should be able to give you a logical, well-reasoned argument for thinking that way. And they should damn well know enough about the subject to be able to hold a consistent, balanced conversation about it. And if anyone ever says to me: “… because God says so” I swear I will reflexively chin them. That is not a valid excuse to go to war, and it is not an argument for racism, homophobia, misogyny or any other misguided, misinformed, loathsome features people may choose to adopt. Be religious, if you must, but don’t be a bigot in the name of “God.”
I was asked recently in a conversation, after I had admitted that I didn’t agree with marriage, why I didn’t want to commit. I’m not one for soppiness, especially not in public, but I was somewhat taken aback. I guess it depends on what your own personal definition of commitment is, but to me it means a degree of self-control, a quality of compromise and mutual respect, and the knowledge that if you were needed by another to lean on you’d be there for them… I’m pretty sure I’m already doing that.
If you’re not sleeping with anyone but your partner, you share decisions with that person and make plans with them then I don’t see how you could be more committed. If you don’t need to lean on them, but know that if you did that person would be there for you and vice versa; if you move v.much in your own circles and congregate from time to time and know that you’ve missed their presence, then surely what more could they ask of you? I don’t feel that forcing someone to announce that they’ll be there for you would mean more than the unspoken knowledge of knowing that they would be. Actions speak louder than marriage vows.
Marriage lost its clout the minute divorce became a possibility. It continues to lose its clout with societal evolution and, like organised religion, must learn to change with the times if it is to be embarked upon for generations to come with any rational rationale.
AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS
There is something else that niggles me about marriage as much as anything else that I’ve mentioned and it’s this: why should I have to prove myself or my love for someone else to everyone else?
A v.close friend of mine recently got engaged. I am happy for her – it’s what she wants. But I know that she and her partner are crazy about each other. I know that they have a great relationship. I can see that they are in love. I do not need her to parade around in front of me in a lovely dress (and I’m sure it will be spectacular affair because she is stunning) to prove that she loves and wants to spend the rest of her life with this person; I can see that. I’ve been able to see that for years. Much as I believe that love generally doesn’t last forever (and the love that doesn’t is no less valid than that which does I hasten to add), I can honestly see these two people being together for the duration, so well matched are they. I love this couple – they are a beacon of joy together, and are so as individuals too. They have chosen to get married – I don’t know what for, but I v.much hope that I’m still invited. As I said in the first paragraph of my first post on marriage: I love weddings.
But I know the above couple love each other. I didn’t need them to announce it formally to me. If there are people who don’t understand how much they love each other, then they obviously haven’t seen R— and I– together… ever. So, if R— & I– know that they love each other, and if everyone who sees them together knows that they love each other and want to share a life together… what’s the marriage bit for?
Someone once said that being with me was like being with the Ice Queen. I’m not particularly proud of this and I hope that my current partner doesn’t feel that way. That a partner could feel that way is a serious issue, but I don’t really care what anyone external thinks of me in terms of my relationship or past relationships. I don’t feel that I have to validate my love for my partner by announcing it or shouting about it or tweeting about it (or even blogging about it – I’m v.uncomfortable with this whole paragraph, truth be told). I don’t want to have a party about it where everyone can tell me how “cute” we are. As long as my partner knows how I feel (and I hope that they do), I don’t see what it has to do with anyone else. Most weddings appear to be all about being the biggest, best, most dazzling, sparkling, regal couple for a day as if this proves that they love each other more than people who don’t go down that route. As if the whole day is to out-love other couples. But if you’re comfortable in the knowledge that you love each other, why do you need to prove it?
I LOVE YOU
Internally warm and soppy like a fuzzy love-bundle, inside tearing up at silly romcoms and getting a lump in the old throat when I hear words of love, I realise that I am, externally, a bit of a cold fish. Although I rarely say “I love you” even to my family (I know I know – bad Emily), I hope that my loved ones know just how much I love them. I would hope that they never see these strong opinions of mine as a sign that I don’t care or that I don’t value my relationships or the relationships of others. From my Mum to the wonderful explorer that is Michelle Jones, through John Magee, El Kitten (and hubby Mike Infinitum), Rose (and fiancé Ian) to my partner, and many many others (I merely haven’t mentioned you other wonderful people because a. I’m scared of missing someone vital out, b. I don’t want to impinge upon your privacy and c. I can’t be bothered typing out all those names), I can say with absolute honesty that I may have fingers in many pies, I may be able to cope without you, but I absolutely wouldn’t want to – my relationships, romantic or otherwise, are the foundations on which I build everything else. I would hope that, despite my not wanting to officially bind myself to any of you permanently in the eyes of “God,” and Goddess knows who else, you know that I wouldn’t ever not want you to be in my life.
This blog is not anti-love, it is anti-brainwash and I’m happy to be signing off with love… a love that has no need of marriage. Because as long as you guys know that I love you all v.v.much, that’s enough for me.
* People should definitely be allowed to have sex and/or fall in love with whoever they want, as long as the other party is wholly consensual (and neither young child nor animal).
** First mistake. T’other person clearly about to embark on an argument when they obviously haven’t got the faintest clue what they’re on about
*** Yes – already a weak-arsed argument
Cunt: A Declaration of Independance ~ Inga Muscio (an appreciation of the wonders of the vagina, the etymology of the word so many people find shocking and words of wisdom for women everywhere.
The Edible Woman ~ Margaret Atwood (an unassuming work of fiction on the subject of societal pressure)
The Dying Animal ~ Philip Roth (a v.dark, fictional tale of love, marriage and sex)
The Women’s Room ~ Marilyn French (a novel about women, marriage and feminism)
The Female Eunuch ~ Germaine Greer (a seminal discourse of women and their position in society – common sense for everyone)
Lady Chatterley’s Lover ~ D. H. Lawrence (or watch the TV series with delicious Sean Bean and the delectable Joely Richardson)
The Canterbury Tales ~ Geoffrey Chaucer (filthy, pious, sexy, devout, ambiguous and still relevant. I highly recommend David Wright’s adaptation, if you don’t want to struggle with Ye Olde Englyshe)
The Stepford Wives (the original Katharine Ross version, not that new shite with Nicole Kidman!)
I often overestimate society and believe it to be more tolerant and forward-thinking than it actually is. As I said in the first paragraph of my first post: I am constantly offended by people telling me that I should get married, that when I meet the right person I will want to get married (the insinuation being that I have simply never loved anyone enough) and that there’s clearly something wrong with me (not society – oh no – it’s all me!) Last night I had the conversation yet again. A friend and I went to the pub after work and were met by another friend who announced that they were getting divorced after ten years of marriage. So, naturally, the topic turned to my opinions on the matter. I was both shocked and appalled by what followed; suffice it to say that I never wish to speak to the friend with whom I originally went to the pub again.
I am more than happy to listen to the opinions of others; however, when I say opinions, I mean rational, well thought out, logical points of view, not bald statements. Of course, what I got was a load of bald statements.
Conversation the first, had with the soon to be divorcee who joined us:
ME: Well, to be honest, I don’t understand why anyone would get married. If someone can give me a good enough reason, maybe I’ll change my mind, but I doubt it…
DIVORCEE: Oh you should get married – our wedding day was so much fun
ME: But if I want a big party, I’ll have a big party
DIVORCEE: But it was just nice having people there to celebrate it with us
ME: Celebrate what, though?
DIVORCEE [pause]: The day, I guess. It was just loads of fun – you should do it
ME: I just don’t see why I need to get married to be with someone
DIVORCEE [beginning to look condescending]: Oh, when you meet someone you’ll want to marry, it’ll all change
For a few moments I was speechless with rage at the injustice of that comment, I reeled, and both of the people I was with took this as their opportunity to turn their conversational backs on me and start talking to each other disgustedly. Finally, on the way home, the original pub friend began again.
PUB FRIEND: It’s what holds our society together
ME: That may be how people perceive it, but I really don’t think, in these changing times, that it should be the case. Explain to me why you think that
PUB FRIEND [more than a little patronising]: It just is sweety.
ME: But you must have a reason for thinking so
PUB FRIEND: Well, without it, society would fall down
ME: What the fuck are you on about? Explain to me how
PUB FRIEND [still patronising]: It just would. That’s just the way it is. Marriage is about creating a union in the eyes of God… [at this point, my friend looks a little bit shocked at what he’s just said, what with him not being in the slightest bit religious]
ME: But you’re not religious
PUB FRIEND: No I’m not, but it’s not about that
ME: Um… you just said that’s what it was about. So you think married people are more important that we are [my “Pub Friend” is a 54 year old singleton, I hasten to add]
PUB FRIEND: Ah… no… well, yes, actually. Yes
ME: Do you have any idea what you’re saying?
PUB FRIEND: Ah… Look, marriage is what we base our society on
ME: I’ve already asked you to explain that. You’re just trotting out propaganda – explain to me how that is so
PUB FRIEND: It’s how adults conduct relationships, sweety
ME: Um… that makes absolutely no sense. So you’re saying that a relationship between two people is nothing without marriage?
PUB FRIEND: Yes.
ME: Do you percieve relationships that don’t involve marriage to be everything that’s wrong with the world?
PUB FRIEND: Well, yes.
ME: So, I’m everything that’s wrong with the world?
PUB FRIEND: In that respect, yes, I guess so
ME: But you’re not married…
PUB FRIEND: That’s different [pub friend lives with a similarly-aged lady and has done for several years… I mean, since the ‘80s]
ME: How? I just want you to explain how you’ve come to these conclusions. Do you have the first fucking clue what you’re on about? [yeah, so I was getting cross… wouldn’t you be?]
PUB FRIEND: Oh… [looking superiorly over his glasses]… sweety… your ideas are 30 years out of date. You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about.
ME: I don’t want to talk to you right now. You’re not making any sense and you appear to have turned into a patronising, misogynistic arsehole. In fact, don’t talk to me until you can actually answer my questions instead of making statements you can’t support!
Proving that, unlike the evolving society I like to think we are, we are, on the whole, just a bunch of brainwashed, walking clichés who don’t know why we think what we think and don’t want to question it in case it rocks the societal boat. So depressing.
NO SEX AFTER MARRIAGE
One of the things I constantly hear from certain of my married friends and acquaintances is that they never get “any.” Indeed, the first website to show on Google when I typed in “No sex” was divorcebusting.com. I am told that nothing kills a libido like marriage, which is enough to put me off without all the other reasons I’ve just mentioned. I don’t know exactly why this is the case… but I can have a few damn good guesses.
Desire & Disgust…
My main suspicion is surrounded by mystery. Or lack of. The minute most couples are married, any remaining sense of modesty seems to go out of the window. Why would you bother locking the bathroom door if you’re living together as a family? Why not happily sit on the toilet when your partner is in the bath? Um… because there is no situation other than extreme food poisoning that could possibly warrant it. You are a grown person, not an incontinent child. Unless you’re both really into scat, there is no reaction other than disgust and annoyance at watching someone else do something that really should only go on behind locked doors. Yes, we all know that everyone clips their toenails and blows their nose and shaves unbelievably fiddly parts of themselves and goes to the toilet and plucks out hairs and plays with pimples and waxes their ears. But these things are not sexy. You may have to do them, but you do not have to do them in front of anyone, especially not someone with whom you wish to have sexual intercourse. There is no bigger turnoff than irritation. Sharing to this degree is not intimate. There has to be a balancing act between comfort in each other’s presence and the intimation that you still wish to be seen as desirable (and that you still find your partner desirable), otherwise you become less like a romantic match and more like two siblings cohabiting.
There is also the fact that a lot of women just don’t enjoy sex as much as they make out (please see my previous post on the subject of sex for my thoughts on that particular matter https://emilydewsnap.wordpress.com/2011/02/17/women-know-your-limits-part-ii-sex-and-climax/). Supposing a woman has dreamed all her life of being married; she works for it, she groans and moans her way into a man’s heart, he marries her… what’s the point in carrying on the pretence once this dream has been realised? She’s married now, the sex was never that good and so there’s no point in continuing – he’s not going anywhere; he promised. On the flip side, all those things that men do to please their girlfriends in the sack… why continue making the effort after marriage? She’s not going anywhere; she promised.
Sex is a highly manipulative weapon that has been brandished for centuries in numerous different ways, especially in marriages. It strikes me as cutting the nose off to spite the face of the worst possible sort to deny your partner sex simply because you want something. Because you’re not just denying them, you’re denying yourself, and dangling their supposed responsibility to you in front of their face to boot. But then, if you’re not enjoying the sex as much as you used to or as much as you used to make out you did, then I guess withholding intercourse could v.much become a powerful tool.
Hormones and body clocks play a great part in a lacklustre sex life too. Women have babies – we are the ones who get pregnant, so it is our responsibility to get a hold on our pesky wombs so that sex can be enjoyed whenever. The mini pill, the injection pill (depo provera) and the hugely popular and effective implant (Nexplanon – the implant formally known as Implanon) are all progesterone/progestogen only methods of contraception and work by, essentially, tricking the body into thinking it is in the early stages of pregnancy. This sometimes instigates havoc in a woman’s body and often causes them to bleed until they’re so anaemic they can barely see straight; but, when it works, the whole reproductive system is suspended and the monthly cycles stop altogether. Aside from being rather a risk to the ovaries in the cancer stakes, this can cause a loss of libido. It can also cause a lady to start piling on weight. A woman burns a lot more calories on the days that she bleeds, which is understandable, and a woman will put weight on even in the early stages of pregnancy. In fact, the combined pill is worse than the progesterone only pills for weight gain because of the oestrogen.
Weight gain. It gets harder to keep weight off the older you get and, once married, a lot of people let it all go a little bit. Which is perfectly fine, except that the media insists on us looking a certain way and points out our “inadequacies” as it sees fit, so that, when we gain weight or wear less make-up or don’t totter around in five inch heels &c., we begin to feel bad about our appearances; we lose confidence in ourselves. Loss of confidence manifests itself in many ways – your partner will pick up on it; maybe they’ll even make a remark or two about how much thinner you used to be, or maybe they’ll make “helpful” comments about how you can lose weight and make a dig whenever you’re eating. If we don’t look how we’re told we should, we no longer feel sexy. If a person doesn’t feel sexy, they aren’t going to want to partake of the sex, are they?
What happens when the woman in a straight relationship no longer feels the way she used to? Situations where women feel that they have to have sex every night to earn the right to go to sleep are absolutely disgraceful. It feels like rape, but you can hardly say anything to anyone about it when you’ve rolled your eyes and said: “Oh, ok…” can you? And, even in this day and age, it is not uncommon for a man to consider sex a service that should be performed by a wife… he married her – she got hers now he wants his. But how does it reach such a point? Wouldn’t it be better to call it a day than to bear the humiliation? Part of the reason some women stay with husbands they no longer love is through fear. They fear that they won’t be able to afford to live alone. They fear the shame of being alone. They fear being alone and vulnerable. They fear being labelled a sad, divorcee. They fear what other, still-married women will think of them and say about them. So they suffer the occasional violation of their bodies and refuse whenever possible.
The Daily Grind & Other Animals…
And I can hardly miss off the daily grind. Life is pretty mundane and it’s hard not to let that seep into all walks of life. Clambouring wearily into bed with your partner at the end of every day, feeling that they’re just part of the furniture is just not conducive to a healthy sex life; but then, the fact of the matter is, you can’t avoid it. You’ve promised yourself to each other, you know that your other half isn’t going anywhere, so they become just another unremarkable element of your daily routine and you a similar element in theirs.
And then there’s television. Televisions do not belong in dining rooms or bedrooms. They are a constant distraction, even when on standby. They are great, big plinths of mind-numbing entertainment – designed to whisk you away from the day of work you just endured and show you how you could be living if you were one of the beautiful people. Recent research shows that if you eat in front of the TV (and we’re all guilty of it), you’re so distracted that your stomach doesn’t register that its full; if you have a screen in the bedroom, chances are you’ll fall asleep watching it or be distracted by it instead of having the sex or going to sleep. The only exception I’ll accept as a decent excuse for having a TV in a sex session is when a couple want to watch pornography together, in which case it becomes a temporary sex toy.
Arguments do not belong in the bedroom either. The mind is a funny thing and we associate particular things with memories, which affect our present frame of mind. Rows linger like herpes, ready to rage out at unexpected moments; certain objects remind us of particular things that were said and the way we felt at the time. If there’s a residual anger, it could be triggered by anything in the room in which the argument was had. This is not beneficial to your sex life. Or a sleep pattern.
Sleep! You need it in order to have the energy and frame of mind to want to have sex. Partners snore and they can’t help it, but there are other things that take place, like those midnight arguments – you know, the mysterious ones where somehow you’ve upset the other person while you were asleep and they wake you up to say things like: “How can you sleep after you said/did/implied that…?” Don’t do it! It can wait until the clear light of morning when you’ve had a proper chance to sleep on it and your partner will be rested and ready to answer questions and see your side of the argument better.
Whatever the reason, marriage seems to go hand in hand with a dwindling sex life. If there were no other reasons, this one would put me off marriage entirely all by itself.
HALF OF A WHOLE
David Cameron seems to be forever banging on about tax breaks for married couples. Well, how fucking rude! Two people live together, they share the mortgage/rent, the council tax (don’t get me started), the electricity bills, the cost of food and living. And because one day they had a big party and signed a certificate, they are deemed more important than us single folk and so are given a discount on their living costs, despite the fact that living alone is crushingly expensive. I have made a choice not to marry, some people just never have the opportunity to marry, but whatever the reason for a singleton being single, it does not make them incomplete. Nobody should be treated like a second class citizen because they are female or black or gay or Jewish or transgender or disabled or 6 foot 9. And yet, somehow, it’s ok for a politician to stand up and announce that one portion of society deserves a prize for their choice of lifestyle. Somehow, our Prime Minister thinks that it’s acceptable to denounce all people who aren’t exactly like him; and the thing that really gets me is that there wasn’t more outrage about this. Can you imagine if our “esteemed” leader turned round one day and said: “I propose that all whites can have their income tax waived…”? What’s next, I wonder? No NI contributions for Christians*? Complimentary breakfasts for people earning over £50,000 per annum?
I’m presuming (and I could be wrong – it has been known to happen) that when the PM alludes to married couples, he is not referring to civil partnerships.
The opinions of certain Tory wankers aside, nobody should ever feel that they are unfinished because they haven’t met a match. Being comfortable with and by yourself is one of the most satisfying things in the world. And building a life for yourself is just as important as building a relationship – in fact, the two things go hand in hand. Co-dependence creates an awful lot of tension; I can’t understand why the government tries to ram the concept down everyone’s throat as though it will create communities of happy, content people. Quite the opposite of having the effect of preventing divorce, reliance on another to complete your life is more likely to cause it.
Daunting as the thought may seem, you are not guaranteed to find a mate. If you do find a mate, you’re not guaranteed to get married. Just as if you are married, you are not guaranteed to be married for the duration of your short existence. This is only daunting because society made it so. It is not a lifestyle that anyone should fear, because even if you are with someone, you are only ever you and someone else, you are not made whole by them and you are not validated by being with them. You’ll find that if you can spend time alone or with your friends and not spend every waking minute feeling like you should be in your partner’s pocket, then the time you do spend together will be of a higher quality because you chose to spend that time with them and they with you.
* Would Mr Cameron be happy enough to admit that he is of Jewish-German stock? How anyone who has that background can possibly ever be a right-winger is really beyond me, but hey ho. Each to their own. Maybe David Cameron thinks it’s ok to be Jewish and marry out of the faith… but at least if you marry “out” you’re married, ey? That’s the important part.
I began writing this blog many moons ago. I have taken advice and gleaned insight through the opinions and circumstances of others. However, I have not based this on anyone or anyone else’s relationship and I am certainly not referring to myself, though I draw on personal experience to ask questions.
This is a work of opinion and enquiry. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
THE OTHER WO/MAN
What happens if you are married, have been with your partner for years and suddenly you meet someone who knocks you off your feet? Do you diligently stay faithful, all the while resenting your partner and fantasising about this other person? In actuality, you promised to forsake all others when you tied the knot, but that was a while ago and the shine has started to fade a little. Still, a promise is a promise and you decide to leave well alone; after all, you are the reason the other person is happy and you’d make life difficult for yourself if you made them unhappy.
In the fairytale version of this, you wouldn’t have even been attracted to another person and, even if you were, would never dream of being intimate with anyone but your spouse. But this isn’t a fairytale. True, you can be wholly devoted to and completely in love with your partner and still find other people massively attractive, but the decision to not risk your relationship by allowing something to happen would be a genuine choice and not one based on a sense of duty and fear: you want to be with your partner, your partner would leave you if they found out, so you don’t pursue this other person. That’s a fair cop, I’d say.
Everyone has to accept that attraction between their partner and others is inevitable – to attempt to prevent it would be futile and puerile; but what if you were the partner of someone who was actually in love with someone else, not just attracted to them? How could you ever be happy with that person knowing that they wanted to be elsewhere? The problem is that the partner who wants to leave probably feels duty bound to stay – they promised, after all – and so in all likelihood won’t say anything, which leads to resentment on both counts. There is an undeniable element of cowardice in not coming clean, but given the stigma that accompanies leaving someone, the coward who feels they can’t just be honest with their spouse is not entirely to blame.
But then again, what if you’re on the other side of it and found that you’ve fallen in love with someone else? If you’re in a position whereby somebody has placed their entire happiness in your hands and constantly reminds you of this, would you indeed stay faithful or would you have an affair, considering it to be less hassle and less upsetting to your partner than to leave them? What they don’t know won’t hurt them, and all that jazz. Except that if you don’t love that partner, surely it would be far more respectful to tell them so that they can go out and find someone who does love them. Or so that they can be alone and learn to love themselves so much they don’t need to be validated by someone else. It is massively arrogant of a person to believe that the other cannot live without them, even if the other has intimated as much; even if the other believes it, they won’t always feel that way.
And then there’s the “Other Woman” herself. Songs have been sung about her, poems and novels have been written for her, films have been based on her. Women warn other women about her. Women threaten their husbands because of her. I have been her; I have been cuckolded by her. The woman who dares to sully the “sanctity” of marriage*. The evil, she-devil. The Lilith of the modern day. A nymph. A nymphomaniac. Femme fatal. Women live in fear that she will “steal**” their husbands and poison their husbands’ minds out of sheer spite. So when a man does leave his wife for another woman (which isn’t often), it is the woman who is at fault, while the man’s only part in the whole thing has been that of bewitched fool. The man is absolved of responsibility because a witch trapped him with her feminine wiles; he is free to continue relations with this sorceress until the magic wears off and then return to his wife, sheepish and apologetic; or he can continue to stay trapped with the minx, the enchantress who stands as the only obstacle in the marriage she single-handedly broke. Oh yes, the witch hunt is still on and those women who rest any blame solely on other women don’t do anything to help it.
This acrimony between two women, both of whom have generally been deceived in equal measures by the man in question, is rather vile. But it’s the women who are indoctrinated into hankering after marriage so much more than the men, so the need to have it and preserve it has a far greater drive in women. It leads to desperation and desperate unhappiness and jealousy and hatred and other violent emotions that cause women to work against each other rather than with each other.
Admittedly, it’s hard to even consider that the person to whom your lover has just flown is a human being in their own right. Rather than accept that the person who has left you just didn’t love you any more, it is so much easier to blame someone else. There are spikes of sheer hatred that pierce your psyche no matter how unbidden, even when you have come to terms with your partner’s decision. After a certain length of time, and possibly because of the way the ex-wife views the new partner, the other woman generally grows to hate the implied or actual presence of the ex-wife.
Haven’t women been hostile towards each other too long? Men seem to be able to have some semblance of a brotherhood cum pack attitude, whereas women see threat in each other. Of course, there’s always an instance of more than one dominant male in any given place from time to time, and most amusing it is to watch too, as wildly exaggerated tales of fisticuffs are followed by displays of scars, which are followed by bench-pressing fibs. Somehow, though, women see the need to ostracize other women. Are we not a force to be reckoned with as one for all and all for one? Would it not work in our favour to be able to communicate with any woman we chose to communicate with, knowing that they would offer their support and advice?
DOING IT FOR THE KIDS
I’ve heard many people tell tale of the discontent marriage that must never be dissolved because the unhappy couple has children.
On the one hand, children are moulded within the first seven years of their life and divorce is incredibly hard for them to get their little minds around. To a child, who has only ever known unconditional, familial love, falling out of love has never crossed their minds. They need the security of knowing that when people say: “I love you” that means “I will always love you.” So when parents admit that they are no longer in love, the child is distraught – if they no longer love each other, how can they still love the child? Yes, I agree: divorce when you are a parent is a tricky business indeed.
On the other hand, a child’s perception of a relationship – what a relationship is, how two people in a relationship relate to one another, the way they act around each other, their gestures and loaded looks, their contact with each other – is what a child will grow up believing a relationship to comprise of. So, if all they’ve ever known of their parents’ relationship consists of snide comments and glares and underhanded remarks (and, believe me, children see these things that parents think are above their doughy heads, even if they can’t articulate it), chances are that they will fall into the trap of creating an unsatisfying union that is exactly the same themselves in later life.
Then there are the parents who use the children as bait. One parent may threaten another that if they should ever leave, they would never see the children again. Which, let’s face it, is pretty childish and not fair on said children. In this situation, “staying together for the kids” is v.much “using the kids to make someone stay,” which is in no way shape or form in the child’s interest and solely to the advantage of the threatening parent. If there is someone else involved, it could be that the hurt party will not allow the children to see the other parent while the new partner is around. This, in itself, breeds yet more hatred by planting the bitter seed in a child when it is at a vulnerable stage in life. Presumably, this act of outrageous jealousy is to prevent the child from developing any attachment to the usurper – it smacks of the fear of losing this child’s affections just like they lost the affections of the partner who left. It also causes contention in the new relationship, which is probably an added bonus to the hurt party. There are even parents who attempt to turn their children against the other parent.
I feel v.much that I am on uncertain ground here. I am childless as yet (and maybe will be so for the duration of my life) and I am no child psychologist. I can remember being scared, when I was a child, that my parents would get divorced and then, later, wanting them to. I don’t think it’s healthy to stay together for the kids, and it’s certainly not healthy to use them in relationship bartering. Divorce is probably harsh for a child, but then, staying in a failing marriage can’t be conducive to a happy family. There is a collective attitude that, if a marriage doesn’t work out, one or both people involved are failures. I see it as being more of a failure to continue with a marriage that has no benefit to either party than it is to call it a day and move on.
* Obviously, that word does not apply to me, but you know what I mean.
** I hate it when people say that someone has been stolen from someone else. It takes two people, not one stealing the other. Nobody belongs to anyone else for them to be stolen. It’s akin to “giving the bride away” at a wedding… is she an object to be owned?
PLANTING THE SEED
So, you’ve been with your partner for years and they’re still showing no signs of popping the question. If you’re a bloke in a straight relationship and want to marry, chances are you’ll be working out how to ask your lady for her hand, safe in the knowledge that she’ll almost certainly say yes. But, as I have witnessed firsthand in other couples, if you’re a woman in a straight relationship, you’ll probably be dropping hints like crazy: strategically leaving catalogues open at the Engagement Rings section, leaping desperately for the bouquet at weddings and coming out with such gems as: “Tallulah and Tarquin have only been together for three years and they’re getting married already…”
If you’re at this stage, then there is no denying that you’ve submitted to manipulation tactics to get what you want. But is that what you really want? Why do you want it? If you’re happy with your partner, you live together and you have a good, strong relationship, what is the point of marrying? Chances are you’ll spend an awful lot of money on feeding and watering distant relatives, followed by a lavish holiday only to return to the exact same life you had before, only poorer.
Maybe you feel that there’s something missing in your relationship and that marriage is the fundamental link to success and happiness; that marriage will solve all your issues. Or maybe you feel that you’ve been with your partner long enough and after doing so much hard time, it’s absolutely imperative that you tie the knot or it has all been for nothing. That’s the thing about relationships, though – there is nothing to work towards; if you’re in a relationship, you’re in it and that relationship can grow and change, of course it can, but there is no “happy ending.” Marriage is not as dramatic as an ending, it’s not even a beginning – it is a continuation.
Whatever the reason for wanting to marry, why do women drop hints? Why is it such a rare thing for a woman to propose to a man? A hang-up from days gone by, perhaps, but a hang-up that acts as a tiny, but niggling reminder that all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. The institution of marriage is fundamentally flawed in many ways, but its inability to change at the same rate as our culture deems it outdated and regressive.
CONFORMITY IN FRIVOLITY:
With This Ring…
An enormous amount of emphasis is placed on the ring that starts it all. The engagement ring. Note the singular: ring, not rings. An engagement ring should typically cost the same as the prospective groom earns in a month. You see, it all starts with a deposit. To secure this man’s future purchase of a wife, he must guarantee it against outside interference with a trinket, and this trinket must be worthy of the item to which he is laying claim. Well, that’s how it used to be in the good old days before these damn women started reading too many books that gave them ideas. Unfortunately, there was something misunderstood in the feminist movement that is still misconstrued to this day: the idea that women battled and battled in order to offer other women the right to own their partners as much as they themselves were owned. Equality – yes absolutely – but surely where ownership of a human being is wrong on one count, it can only ever be wronger on both. Two wrongs do not a happy union make. Note that the word “obey” is often omitted from the woman’s wedding vows to make them more equal, it’s never added into the man’s!
But I digress. The engagement has only one ring; there is only one owner in this part of the proceedings and an engagement ring is a talisman to ward off all other suitors. Worn solely by women. And judged massively by the woman herself. After all, if a man loves his woman, he will all but bankrupt himself to give her what she wants, no? The significance of this ring is now one of power on the woman’s part; the ring is a prelude to a promise almost as binding as the wedding vows themselves. And is this ring something that has been picked out because it suits the wearer? Well, it’s a diamond solitaire on a gold band, the slight variation is irrelevant.
Dress like a Princess…
Then there’s the dress. White, floor-length and, these days at least, strapless. White. For virginity. Let’s face it, most couples are already cohabiting with each other when they decide to get hitched, so to wear a white dress seems somewhat disingenuous. Why white? Certainly not to imply virginity. There may have been a slight increase in the number of coloured dresses to appear in bridal shops, but for the most part, the dresses are still white (or cream). It’s almost like a fresh start; a blank canvas. But if marriage is neither beginning nor end, it again seems somehow inappropriate. It’s a rare occasion when an affianced couple opt for a small wedding to which only close friends and immediate family are invited. It is also a rare occasion when a girl doesn’t spend thousands of pounds on a dress that she will only wear once for a ceremony that lasts all of twenty minutes.
It’s all about uniformity. Conformity. A diamond solitaire ring in a gold setting, a white wedding dress, flowers, drapes, place settings, a sit down meal, a cake cutting and a first dance. “But it’s traditional” you might say. Yeah, and so is slavery, imperialism and oppression of the minorities, but that’s no excuse for ploughing on regardless. Traditionally, marriage was for uniting countries. Traditionally, marriage was to justify sex and childbirth in religion. Traditionally, marriage was a way for government and church to control the masses. Tradition? Balls to tradition! The Wicker Man was a satire of communities who take tradition too seriously – I suggest you traditionalists watch and take note. In a western world that is evolving cerebrally, there is no act that can be validated because it is an act of tradition.
Whether the bride and groom have chosen a religious or secular wedding, they will no doubt be heading for a wedding breakfast and reception shortly after they’ve had lots of posed photographs taken. Photographs that don’t portray any natural moment of the day, but capture exactly what the photographer wants people to see. Then the guests will throw confetti at the couple, despite the fact that the custom is rice (or the local grain) and that the rice is to symbolise fertility, not just so some people in posh clothes can throw bits of shit at some other people in posher clothes in the name of convention.
It is popular these days for wedding receptions to be held in expensive hotels, where the wedding guests who have probably travelled to see the happy couple get married, bringing with them gifts they can’t afford to bring, are expected to book themselves into swanky rooms. Luckily for the wedding guests, the bride and groom have arranged for all the chairs at the reception to be covered in organza and for fresh, colour coördinated flowers to adorn every table, so that makes up for the expense, doesn’t it? Well, no, not really. It’s a vicious circle: the bride and groom shell out thousands of pounds to arrange the wedding, so it is expected that the guests spend hundreds of pounds each in return. The bride and groom are probably only really bothered about a third of the guests and about two thirds of the guests aren’t that bothered about the bride and groom. And yet, somehow, the groom’s sister has manipulated the bride into making her a bridesmaid and even though the invitation said “no children,” there’s a suckling sprogger screaming its head off because that particular set of owners couldn’t possibly have found a babysitter in the three months prior to the big day even though every other besproggered family managed it.
It’s a stressful do, is a wedding. There is a massive responsibility when seating guests – one mustn’t forget the row auntie Doris had with your cousin Frank in 1998; the seating plan is created and immediately scrapped over and over for just such reasons. Once seated in carefully designated places, the guests will find favours next to their place names, which are generally little knickknacks for which they have no purpose and which will gather dust in a drawer for years to come. Is any of this sounding romantic to you?
With the invitation you receive, for which you are required to feel suitably humbled and grateful, you will also receive either the name of a shop from which the bride and groom would like you to purchase the rightfully expensive present that you’re going to give them, or a request for money, with which the newly married couple will buy drinks on the luxurious holiday they’re about to go on. Most couples have already lived together long enough to know that they are capable of cohabiting with each other. Wedding presents were generally given when couples lived with their respective parents and so had none of the things needed to make a house a home when they moved into their new pads together.
An important question I think you have to ask yourself, if you are seriously considering marriage, is: “Do I want to be married or do I want a wedding?” Because if what you crave is the dress, the day all about you*, the party, the presents and the holiday, I’m guessing you haven’t considered the implications of marriage at all. Maybe another question should be: “Would I do this if it was just the two of us, both wearing jeans, doc’ martins and skanky old T-shirts with a quick I do ceremony in the register office and nothing more?”
[Name], do you take [Name] to be your lawfully wedded [husband/wife] to live together in marriage. Do you promise to love, comfort, honour and keep [him/her] For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. And, forsaking all others, be faithful only to [him/her] so long as you both shall live?
Groom: I, [Tarquin], take thee, [Tallulah], to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death us do part.
Bride: I, [Tallulah], take thee, [Tarquin], to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, ‘til death us do part,
These days the vows are sometimes adapted somewhat, as in the case of Kate Middleton refusing to “obey” Price William. A girl under enormous social pressure to conform and with some pretty daunting boots to fill. Good on her!
I can’t read the wedding vows without wanting to tear my hair out. “Do you promise to love… so long as you both shall live?” how can anyone promise that?! You can promise that at that moment in time you love someone; you can promise that at that moment in time you can’t imagine ever not loving them – you cannot ever promise to love them forever and know that you will keep that promise, because love is out of your physical control. And everybody knows this, deep down. If they didn’t, there would be no instances of jealousy or insecurity. Love is an erratic malady that makes fickle creatures of us all.
Moreover, how can we pretend to not see that wedding vows are superfluous in a world that allows divorce and prenuptial agreements? And how could you not allow divorce?
* I have a day about me every year… it’s called My Birthday.
If The Golden Notebook slapped me in the face, Marilyn French’s The Women’s Room positively knocked me for six. If there was ever a fictionalised version of The Female Eunuch, this is it.
And it was the Female Eunuch that reminded me of the book’s existence. Once recommended as A Book at Bedtime on Radio 4, it was soon forgotten due to the unsociable hours I keep. I had no concept of the missed opportunity at the time, but then I had no concept of the issues broached in the book either; nor of the connection and, for want of a better word, oneness that I would find in its storyline. From a gentle beginning, I was suddenly plunged into a world from which I drew many parallels with my own, and as I turned the last page with tears in my eyes, all the hairs stood up on the backs of my arms. It’s not often you can say that about a novel, but I related to it so deeply.
Mira Ward is going back to college; a middle aged, divorced mother of two young boys. Considered a wild child in her teens, Mira narrowly escapes being raped by a group of men after having the audacity to be an unaccompanied female in a bar. In the years subsequent to this, she finally (still a virgin) marries the only man who can see past her bad reputation as a nymphomaniac and begins a family, as is expected of her and, indeed, of all women. Having dedicated 25 years of her life to a loveless marriage, the seemingly static pieces of Mira’s world are thrown up into the air when her husband leaves her for a younger woman, taking her two children with him. In an era when a husband provided financial security and acceptance into society, Mira flees from suburbia to Cambridge College where she meets a number of remarkable women who change her life and perceptions forever.
I found the first part of the book slightly harder to connect with because of the time in which it was written; it focuses on the aspect of traditional marriage and, whilst some elements are undoubtedly still relevant, some of the more archaic traditions have decayed from modern society somewhat. However, this doesn’t detract from the book’s relevance as a whole. After all, the fabled nuclear family is still v.much the life-goal for most people and this starting-point creates the foundations for the female struggle that Mira finds herself embarking on. As a character, Mira represents the incredulous masses; yet through her own experiences and those of the other female characters, with a lot of wisdom and advice, she is finally able to understand the social imbalance and strike out as a whole person in her own right.
I often think it cheesy when the title of the book is found in the text of the literature, and the title of this book is found within the first paragraph. It is, however, utterly forgivable since the title epitomises the v.point that the book is trying to make. The Women’s Room. Formerly The Ladies’ Room. The female toilets in a college in the late ‘60s (a time when feminism was beginning to murmur and bubble under the surface once more) has been rechristened by an anonymous graffiti artist. And if men have the Men’s Toilets, why on earth shouldn’t women have the Women’s Toilets? To call it The Ladies’ Room suggests that little ladies do far more delicate things in there than men… like powdering their noses. It’s a pedantic point to make, but it is v.much the tip of the feminist iceberg that Marilyn French explores with this narrative. Ranging from the presumptuous invasion of a stranger touching a woman at a social gathering, to the intricacies and complications surrounding a rape case; from marriage in the ‘50s and 60s to open relationships, The Women’s Room indefatigably and unflinchingly presents question after question on the subject of equality, the frustrations of bureaucracy and the seemingly endless instances of oppression and obligation faced by women on a daily basis. No matter how small the obstacle, how meagre the offence, French shows that every little helps in the ongoing battle for women’s position in society.
Thought-provoking rather than gripping; a book that certainly takes itself seriously, and well it might for the importance of a struggle that has raged for decades, The Women’s Room takes a bold and vital step towards equality and its inevitabloe rejections and conflicts. That I drew so many parallels to my own life, as a privileged child of the ‘80s, only reminded me that it is a trap to believe that society has reached sexual equilibrium. But whether you are ready to fight for or settle with this western society, this is a book that undeniably poses questions that are not often considered, and its answers, equally as provocative, stem from all sides of the spectrum.
A must read for feminists and femphobes alike!
Revolutionary Road ~ Richard Yates
The Bell ~ Iris Murdoch
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolfe
BODILY FUNCTIONS & HAIR REMOVAL
It’s been a v.long time since I had a period. For the majority of my adult life, my menstrual cycle has been put on hold with progestogen and progesterone. Initially, this was to alleviate the severe pains I used to suffer as a teenager* and later on became necessary to avoid the droppage of unwanted sproggers. Now that I find myself uncoupled, I’m reluctant to let the crimson wave invade my life once more. There have been occasions in the past where I’ve taken breaks from internal contraception to “sort my body out,” but all I‘ve discovered is that two weeks before a period, I turn into a snarling, snapping, whining, bitching, illogical, nasty, frustrated, irritated, worn out, emotional, violent, tearful, depressed, annoying twat; followed by dreadful bouts of teenage skin and bleeding that is not only painful, but leaves me drained of all energy, bloated, in pain, anaemic and often squicked out**. Add to this the inconvenience of being unable to wear light colours in case of leakage, the expense of buying tampons*** and the dilemma of to screw or not to screw (can I be bothered washing it out of the sheets? If we do it in the bath, will that just make the water look murky? Although they are wipe-clean, is it really hygienic to liberally spatter menstrual blood on the kitchen work tops?) Oh, I can’t be bothered any more. Implanon will be replaced when I finish my first three-year round in November.
But for most women, menstruation is v.much a reality and, for most women, v.much as I’ve described above. You boys have no idea! As well as the physical discomfort and the hormonal turmoil, entertaining Auntie Flo can also be a cause of deep embarrassment. A worrying amount of men flinch when periods are mentioned. It is more surprising to find a man that will quite happily take the topic in his stride than one who immediately blanches at the first mention and says: “Too much information…” or a variable thereof. I happen to be v.lucky in this regard – the men in my life have all been v.understanding and, in the not so frequent occurrence of my being on the blob at the monumentally inconvenient moment of being in a position of intimacy, have all carried on regardless, without hesitation or squeamishness. However, I have had the following reaction from male colleagues, teachers and the like (not during sexual encounters, I might add):-
THEM: Are you ok?
ME [bent double in agony]: I’m fine
THEM: What’s wrong?
ME: Period pain
THEM: I really didn’t need to know that
The insinuation here is that I should have invented a reason for my bellyache. But what? Presumably nothing relating to arses or fannies. It’s just another layer to add the ethereal image women try to portray. Germaine Greer, to return to that particular sage, suggests that we taste our menstrual blood. Well, I’m pretty sure the stuff has ended up in my mouth at some point, but I’m happier when any fluid that comes out of my body doesn’t end up in my mouth. After all, it’s coming out of my body for a reason. I don’t think eating your own blob is a way to accept the natural occurrence of its monthly appearance; I’m toilet phobic, but I don’t think drinking my own pee (or worse) is a way to accept that I have to do it. Learning to hide so diligently this so fundamental of female bodily processes is perhaps the foundation on which we build the greater deception assumed by most females as part and parcel of being a woman.
We shave our body hair. Whilst I understand the attraction with a smooth pair of legs, I don’t understand why the attraction, or why it doesn’t extend to men. We deal with armpit hair and back hair and sack and crack hair and yet the thought of a woman with hair in similar places is rather objectionable. Even women wrinkle their noses at the thought, so deeply ingrained is the ideal of the smooth woman. In fact, the only hair I can actually understand the removal of is pubic hair: of course, hair removal is at your own prerogative, but if you choose to allow your pubes to be unruly, at some point, some poor sod is going to end up with a mouthful of curlies and that is not going to be pleasant for them. Still, despite my lack of understanding, I will continue to remove any hair that isn’t on my head because to not do so is just not on the agenda. Does it not smack of the worst kind of brainwashing that I do not understand the need to do this and yet go ahead and do it anyway? My only motivation is other people. I don’t want to wear a skirt or short-sleeved top and have people see that, on occasion, hair grows out of the places that are on show. And what a ludicrous reason to do anything!
It goes further than waxing and shaving the hair on our bodies. A friend of a friend of mine recently invested in removing something else. Something that required anaesthetic and permanent mutilation. Her flaps! It seems that I was much mistaken when I took women with no flange flaps to be the same as people with no earlobes. People actually want this! I’m not saying that if you only have little flaps there’s anything wrong with that – maybe you’re just naturally neater – but why would you change something that you only ever show to someone with whom you are comfortable being intimate? For a start, that’s going to desensitise a v.sensitive area to some extent and that’s the last thing women need. I’m really not savvy enough on the subject of bajingo surgery to understand the rationale behind it, but I wouldn’t cut part of my genitalia off if you paid me. Since hearing of this outrageous act against muffs, it’s all I’ve been able to think about****. Perhaps they could take the removed flesh and pad something else out with it, since apparently the most effective way to become more attractive is to hack parts of yourself off and shove foreign articles in.
And then there’s anal bleaching! Presumably this is to give an effect of cleanliness, but here’s the thing: a bleached anus is even less clean than a non-bleached one on account of this equally ludicrous procedure causing anal leakage! “Oh, yes, I smell like arse, but at least I paid a lot of money for the privilege.” Here’s a news flash: your anus is the colour it is because of its main purpose in life and no matter what you do to it, that will still be its purpose!
I find the thought of medical procedures in general to be a rather extreme way of enhancing looks. I’m all for make-up as a way of enhancing what’s already there, but even then there is the fact that men don’t do it. Again there is hair removal – plucking the eyebrows. For dark-haired ladies with hair on their top lips, I have been told that bleaching is the best practice for disguising. We cover blemishes and dark circles, change our skin tone†, augment our cheekbones and brow-bones with highlighters and shadows. We make our eyelashes darker and, in my fair case, the eyebrows we lovingly tweezed. If one is to go the whole hog with make-up, the face is wiped out by primers and foundations, only to be redrawn over the top in deeper shades. And men don’t have this hassle. In fact, unless you’re Eddie Izzard or Tim Minchin, male make-up is rarely seen outside the circles of rock and/or drag. Yet I am all for wearing make-up. Make-up that looks like you’re wearing make-up. My eyes have gone from doe to sixties wings to fifties flicks to rockabilly ticks. But never did it occur to me to not do it. In fact, I find it slovenly to not do it – it’s part of getting dressed for me. There always comes a point when I start a new relationship and the person I’m seeing goes: “You look different somehow…” and I have to explain that my face is actually underneath the paint and that the reason I look different is that I’ve taken the paint off. I realise that this isn’t the case for all women, but there’s no denying that there is a great deal of pressure for women to look a certain way and regardless of what anyone says, constantly being bombarded with images of women that have been airbrushed to “perfection”, pouting, dark-eyed, ruby-lipped and vacantly-expressioned really gives us ladies a run for our money.
But at least these images are false: the face has been drawn on, the hair has been backcombed, sprayed, dyed, blow-dried and that’s before the final projection is tampered with. These are realistic goals to strive for, if that’s what you really want. It is possible to go someway to achieving the look of the moment, if the word “achievement” can legitimately be applied here. Of course, some stars go a step further and have plastic surgery – we accept this since they are something of a mythical “other” anyway. The rich and famous, for those of us that aren’t, are fabulous untouchables. They almost cease to be people. They are the beautiful husks, designed for our entertainment and amusement, to which we attribute whatever personality we feel like, since we don’t know them and never will. Somehow, for them to present themselves to us as perfect packages is wholly acceptable, since we effectively pay their wages and if a proportion of the billions we spend on music, films, magazines &c. goes towards a bit of rhinoplasty, then so be it. It does, after all, make the Beautiful Untouchables better at their jobs. But plastic surgery is slowly creeping into the high street. These days it is perfectly normal to see busses rolling by advertising cosmetic “enhancement.” It is no longer beyond our means to afford this sort of luxury.
What I can’t get my head around is that people would actually pay to have someone cut into their flesh for no other reason than that their nose was a bit wonky or their breasts smaller than they would like. The v.thought actually knocks me sick. Having had surgery, and I mean minor surgery††, I can’t entertain the thought of paying thousands of pounds for someone to do that to me if there is nothing wrong with me in the first place. Going under the scalpel is scary, for a start: a person injects you with something that renders you unconscious, which can cause health complications (and in some extreme cases, death), once under you have to trust another person to wield incredibly sharp implements over your naked body and then to actually slice into you. Now, let’s just suppose that everything goes to plan and you awake unharmed – firstly, you’ll probably vomit violently. And you will be in pain. Severe pain. You can’t expect to have your tissue hacked into and wake up feeling fine and dandy, of course you can’t. You’ll feel dizzy and confused, parts of you will hurt that didn’t even have the surgery, because bodies are funny that way, and you’ll probably be full of tubes. I don’t know what the recovery time is for plastic surgery, but after I had my appendix removed and my laparoscopy, it was a good two or three months before I felt ok again and the scars still ache from time to time to this day. And, the pain aside, what happens if you don’t like the finished result? Do you go back for more to correct it or quit while you’re ahead? What happens if, say, you have a wonky nose, have it straightened and then discover that it makes the rest of your face look wonky? What happens if your new nose suits your younger face, but as you get older starts to look out of place? There’s a limit to what surgery can do. And reversing age is another limit it cannot transcend.
So, it’s painful, it’s expensive, there are health risks… but what about just plain unhealthy. Liposuction, for example, is the procedure of sucking the fat out of a person’s body. Just as it is unhealthy to be underweight, so is it to be overweight, yet we have developed a way of reducing the fat in a person’s body without exercise or dietary revision. Bit of a no-brainer, that one. And we all know this and yet about a third of the people I asked said they definitely would have plastic surgery if they could afford it (mainly women), a third said they would consider it (a few more men crept into this category) and the remaining third said they wouldn’t (mainly men).What is this need to be uniformly beautiful? And why do the majority allow the media to dictate what being beautiful entails? True, we’re visual creatures… those of us who are lucky enough to be sighted, at least. I’m not denying the fact of attraction, but surely we are able to decide what constitutes beauty for ourselves. And surely there is an appeal in the irregular features that make one person different from the next. Maybe there are similar pressures for men when it comes to image, but I don’t see that men spend an inordinate amount of time preening, plucking, dyeing, curling, straightening, buffing, filing, painting, waxing and cutting off parts of their genitalia simply for the aesthetics, dressing up like damned male peacocks or tottering around on their tippy-toes.
* I mean pains that spread up into my chest and down both legs. Pains that made me faint and vomit. Pains mainly caused by Endometriosis, it later transpired.
** I am squeamish of all blood – my problem is not the location of the bleeding, only the fact of it.
*** Although, should I choose to return to my natural state of affairs, I shall be purchasing a mooncup. Sounds cleaner than plugging my muff with cotton wool, in which nasty germs can grow, and would work out cheaper on account of being a one off payment.
**** A colleague asked me recently why I was staring into space and all I could say was: “I’m thinking about flaps.”
† Historically women would put arsenic on their faces to bleach the skin. Unfortunately for pasties like me, in this day and age, the trend is to apply unnatural shades of orange to create a healthy glow
†† Appendectomy, laparoscopy, lapascopic womb scraping, contraceptive implant &c.