Another PSA For the Young Women

First of all, this is not advice for all young women. If the title were more accurate it would read something like: “advice for those young women who seek a sexual encounter or a more long-term relationship with a male.” That’s not the pithiest title, however, so, as is usual in all things, accuracy and thoroughness is sacrificed to the god of packaging.

As I have said before, when I was a young man I was an expert at missing opportunities for sex. Now as an older man, I have certain observations about the females I was fucking up the opportunities with. Since there was an opportunity for sex, that means that it was not just me that squandered it: the females missed their chance too. As with all things in relationships, this is a two way street.

I have a feeling that young women these days are more sexually aggressive than they were in my day. That’s good. But some of my observations may still prove helpful here.

Back then a typical scenario for me would be winding up alone with a young women at the end of a larger social occasion. Maybe a house party, or a big night out to the coffee shop/bar, or some kind of concert or gig. We were acquaintances already and had spent the night casing each other. Invariably, at that moment where the night had wound down and it was time to initiate the next stage of the relationship, neither of us would do it.

“Well, thanks for walking me home, you didn’t have to do that,” said she.

“No problem, I like walking. Uhhhhh… Okay, then. Bye.”

And that was that.

So what went wrong in that scenario? According to all social conventions and codes, I blew it. There’s no doubt about it. But it might be interesting to analyze why I blew it.

I grew up in a feminist milieu. I internalized it. So the content of the anti-harassment and rape posts I see are things I understood then. Just because a woman is friendly to a man doesn’t mean she wants to fuck. Just because she dresses sexy doesn’t mean she wants to be approached sexually. When it comes to sexual assault, it does not matter how the aggressor perceives the situation.

I was also exposed to fair bit of virulently anti-male and anti-sex “feminism.” Men are pigs! Your sexual urges are a blight on women everywhere! Playboy is a sexual assault upon the whole female gender! The male gaze in of itself is assault!

So there I was thinking that any sexual advance on a woman who does not want it is the most egregious violation that could be visited upon her. Also that I should never, ever, assume a woman wants a sexual advance. So I did not assume it and therefore never made the advance.

I get that at this point some readers are imagining a fedora descending towards my head. “Here we go, he’s about to blame feminism for his inability to succeed with women.” No, I’m not. I am simply relating what was going on in my head every time I failed to take the next step with a woman I wanted to fuck.

There are all manner of appropriate ways to take that next step. Here’s the tip for the young men:

They are all verbal. And try to be a little bit smooth about it.

“I had a great time talking to you tonight. Would you like my number or email address? Maybe we could get a coffee some time.” (Pro tip: always offer your number, never ask for hers. That puts her in the driver’s seat, and tells her that you’re not only after her, or even just her digits, as some kind of conquest.)

If things are feeling more intimate, you could risk:

“I’m sorry if I’ve misread things, but I’m feeling the strong impulse to kiss you right now. Would that be okay?”

Communication is the key to any relationship. But young people are usually not yet the best communicators; they haven’t worked out their codes. Thus they generally have some troubles with each other. As I did.

To get back to something I touched on earlier, there is another side to this story. In most of those cases, I was not the only person there who wanted to have sex. She wanted to fuck too and it didn’t happen for her either. So what went wrong on her end?

It seems that some women rely on inappropriate male behavior to initiate sexual contact. If they like a guy, they put themselves in a situation of compromised safety and wait for him to start pawing. If it is someone she thinks is swell, such behavior is viewed as him taking control and knowing what he wants. What a manly man he is! However, if he’s not her cup of tea, that shit crosses the line to sexual assault in a damn hurry.

Whenever I see some spring break Girls Gone Wild type of horseshit, the first thing I think is that we need another (proper) plague. Then I’ll get around to wondering what the fuck all these people are thinking. Walking up to a stranger and grabbing them is assault. This is not a, “woo-hoo, I’m so wasted! Wow, you’re hot! Let’s fuck!” situation. The male aggressor in this situation is unequivocally and completely at fault here, so don’t get me wrong; but what the fuck is going through the female’s mind?

“What he just did is, technically, sexual assault, but he’s really hot so I think I’ll just choose to regard that shit as foreplay. However, if that homunculus over there tries anything, I’m totally going to throw my drink on him! Oh my god! Can you imagine?”

(Yes, I know your typical spring break vixen is probably not going to be using the word “homunculus” in her inner monologue, but I feel strongly that if such a young woman were somehow made aware of the word, then it is totally one she would use in that situation. Thus, by virtue of being a character in my narrative, this young lady can benefit from the magic of the written word. As can we all.)

I know I’m on thin ice now, so I would like to clarify that I am in no way saying that the women in this situation deserve, warrant, or are to blame for their assault. Or that their right to determine what is acceptable should in any way be diminished by their choices. I am simply saying that everyone there should be killed. Every single one of them regardless of age, gender, race, or creed. By napalm air strike, ideally (dying screaming blowing burning bubbles); but I am open to other suggestions.

If your dating game consists of choosing the most suitable of the predators that are circling you, then you have a serious problem that goes much deeper than what the worst of them do. You are as a nineteenth century damsel who stakes her virtue out in a clearing like some goat to lure the tiger of male lust. You are a participant engaging in (what ought to be) the antiquated paradigm of sex as conquest and woman as prey. Stop it. Predators should not be rewarded with what they seek.

They should be shot.

So, young women, if you ever find yourself asking, “What’s the matter with him? Why didn’t he try to fuck me?” maybe take it one step further and ask yourself, “why didn’t I try to fuck him?”

If you’re stuck in a flirty, awkward holding pattern with a respectful, kind, and sensitive man who, despite all of your signals, is not taking the next step with you, maybe it is time for you initiate what you want. It’s 2021, not 1821. We are twenty-first century people; the old sexist codes of propriety are no longer relevant. You can throw your pussy onto whoever you want.

Happy humping!

Artist

Late teens or early twenties.

Out with a few people. Wind up at the apartment of a hot girl en route to somewhere else with a number of other people.

Want to fuck her.

She’s got her art all over the place. Really terrible acrylics. Close-ups of eyes; mystical crystal light refraction; and various other “I’m not only popular because I’m an incredible piece of ass, I’m a deep and meaningful soul,” themes that seem significant to people who are anything but.

Can tell she really wants to engage about her art. Wants to be fed more lies about her talent and worth.

Stare at the woman with cats’ eyes painting. (Self-portrait?)

Can’t fuckin do it. Say nothing.

Rest of the evening goes nowhere. Go home and try to beat off to thoughts of her. Can’t even finish.

Switch thoughts to the waitress of the bar.

Success. Sleep.

gift

You come here to me
and present yourself

I do see that
I know

I want it too

to take what is offered
taste what is given

teach you my ways

draw the quiver from your belly
out through your lips
as a moan

I’d love that

but I can’t
you know the reasons why

you’ve met them

I just hope you see all this in my eyes
and understand
while I drink in your beauty

eyes on the train

On the train
stopped at a station
I turn back
Twisting to see
who has joined us

Eye contact
POP
Your eyes exactly where
mine first focus

Beauty

Your eyes locked right in
on mine
too

Like we each knew
Where the other would be

Connecting
too fast to be guarded
to raise up a shield
We see each other
plainly

Attracted

Plainly

We both understand
a thought passed between us
Like electricity shared
through an invisible wire

In another time
another place
we’d be fucking like crazy

Not this time round, though

Just a nice little moment
Shared between strangers
Passing each other by