She buys her time, thanks to previous ambition. She pays for her own meal. In the clothes that SHE bought. This is her feminine liberation.
Endless noise surrounds her. Everyone is with someone. People make eye contact. They mean what they say. You can tell. Their eyes squint as if smelling expired milk in the fridge… but they’re happy about it. They show genuine regard to their counterpart. Still, she sits. The character of solidarity. Sitting at a bar amongst the men. It’s faster service there, right? She lets it slide with the suggested indication of her successes. She has her laptop. As long as there is WiFi… there is connection.
There. Is. Connection.
Tinder
Bumble
Match
Farmers Only Or Whatever the Fuck
Facebook friends
All of the other stupid fucking websites to connect people because people are too intimidated to fucking feel the brush of actual real human interaction
The times today…
I can free the boob. But no one really wants that.
I can build an empire. But no one really wants that, either.
Conundrum?
My ovaries are the best/worst things to have ever happened to me. I made incomparably amazing dirt barbies, but I am still at the mercy of the sexes. To say that means a lot, considering I fare pretty well amongst the opposite of my sex.
There is a definitive point in which a woman chooses the middle finger, but there are so few brave to execute it. It is when others shy away out of their own insecurities and fear. And because there are still assholes, we still must maintain balance.
You know, bake the bread and make the bed… (While also maintaining the ideals to take over the world)
So we hold our heads high, give the benefit of the doubt, and smother the voices of which we hold inside in order to maintain the unflinching portrait we worked so hard to paint. We give the pathetic pat on the back to people accomplishing things that everyone should think is the bare minimum. Let’s blame that on maternity.
Fuck it.
Feminism has lost its touch.
I don’t care what the results are of this post.
It’s true.
And people don’t like true.
