Smooching the Enemy

Smooching the Enemy

After reading Blythe Roberson’s book How to Date Men When You Hate Men, I did two things. I looked up who most of the people she talked about are because I am 47 and couldn’t pick Harry Styles out of a police line up. There are some very handsome young men out there, so thanks for that Ms. Roberson. After my online leering session, I wrote this post. I think a better title for this book would have been Smooching the Enemy but that is just me. The book wasn’t really much of a how to deal with the tension of being attracted to the very people who have been in opposition to you since pretty much the day you were born, as a series of stories about what a shitshow being young is. Which it totally is.

Let me take a page from Ms. Roberson’s book and share a personal little story about how unbearably frustrating it is to deal with men who sleep with you (in the biblical sense as well as snoring in your ear and waking you up 6 times a night sense), benefit hourly from your physical and emotional labor and still REFUSE to believe you when you point out that they are being sexist pigs. I was married to a man who worked in advertising. The first time he was given a certain amount of creative control over a commercial, he put a woman in a fucking bathing suit. It was selling a retro styled motorcycle and they easily could have gone with putting the pretty young woman in a ridiculously glamorous gown but nooooooooo. Had to be a fucking swimsuit. I advocated, argued and probably at one point cried alone in the bathroom because nothing I said would sway him.

And therein resides the lie that women can influence their husbands behind the scenes. Every woman, from little old me to Abigail Adams herself have tried to tell the men in their lives to please treat women with the same respect and dignity they would treat a man they consider their equal. Why are some men in power willing to be the first on their block to cut women a break and treat them like human beings and others are stubborn assholes?

Anyway, this review of How to Date Men When You Hate Men is pretty much like the book. It makes you think it’s going to have a general conversation about the trauma and terror of being attracted to and dating people who, if you are murdered, will be the primary suspect because men regularly MURDER THEIR PARTNERS. But alas, I just told you a random story about how my clueless ex made the same dumb mistake billions of men make all the time which is treating women like things rather than people.

It was a good story but I bet you would rather have heard about how to handle the daily emotional hailstorm that is fantasizing about or trying to date people who have been raised to see you as disposable.

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