This week has been a good one for inspiration and I have so many things I want to talk to you about, but, rather than write a novel (which I was supposed to have done a decade ago), I try to keep my bursts of wisdom under control. Reining in my own outbursts is a skill, unlikely to ever be perfected. But for some strange reason, I’ve never found that I am unable to stop myself from shouting things about other people’s body parts, or my own, at random passers by.
I call this strange because it seems that I am missing out on some very important human behaviour, which is undeniably considered acceptable by many and even desirable by a few. Whenever women, in particular, complain about it they are accused of being ‘spoiled sports’, of needing to ‘lighten up’ or to learn to take a compliment and not be so ‘uptight’. Sometimes they are even accused of being ‘feminists’, as if that’s an insult or something. I’m not sure what I’m missing here. When I walked down the road near my house and a guy followed me, hissing and telling me he’d be happy to go to prison to be able to rape me, ‘uptight’ just wasn’t my state of mind. Scared, angry and considering acts of violence- those were most definitely feelings that were stirred and thoughts that I had.
In fact, at that moment, me and the man shouting at me did have one thing in common. And no, I didn’t want to shout at him how much I’d love my boobs on his penis even though he had no hesitation in letting me know that was what he had in mind. No, I think that had I had the resources, I would have probably been happy in that moment to have gone to prison for maiming him permanently. In that willingness to be imprisoned, there was a meeting of minds.
In the end, I’m glad neither of us found our way to prison. I have no doubt though that he thought he was funny. I’m not sure he expected me to ask him for a date, which is even weirder if you think about it. Why make sexual comments to someone if you don’t actually want to have sex with them? Why? Because you are an arsehole. It’s certainly not a form of courtship. I wonder how many times shouting ‘nice tits’ at a passing woman has resulted in a consensual sexual encounter.
If you’ve inherited anything from me and that involves a difficulty with impulse control, I know your parents well enough to believe that you’d never find it hard to stop yourself from commenting on another person’s body in a public place unless you had been paid good money to do so. And, in that case, seriously – if someone says ‘shout ‘you have a huge knob!” at random strangers for a reasonably large sum of money and you don’t think you’re going to get punched in the neck for it, then have at it.
The problem is that most of this stuff is done by men, towards women. At best it’s annoying and boring, at worst it’s frightening and a form sexual assault. Yet, again and again you hear men justifying their behaviour with…wait for it…wait for it…my favourite – ‘well if you are going to go out looking so good with everything all hanging out and tempting, what do you expect?’ Really? Men? You’re incapable of looking at another human being who looks at all attractive to you and not think that when they dressed that morning all they could think about was you and dreamed of you saying ‘hey jiggle those big titties for me girl’? The fact that you even think that is embarrassing enough for your whole gender, but the fact that you think it’s acceptable…no, nix that…a good thing to shout that at someone, is an embarrassment to your whole species.
Listen to me men. If you do not have the ability to stop yourself from blurting out your inappropriate thoughts and you do not have a diagnosis of Tourettes Syndrome, then you clearly are not competent to drive a car, own a dog or, even worse, a gun. Can you imagine? ‘Hey baby, you wore those shorts so short today that I just can’t stop myself from shooting someone’. For fucks sake. I shouldn’t have to provide this guide for grown men, but given that someone chronically failed in either identifying that you have something seriously wrong with you because you live in a la la land where you think every women dressed up just for you today or you just weren’t brought up to be a civilised member of society, here’s a simple rule – if you would not say the words you are saying to your own mother, or, to another man (assuming you are heterosexual), then do not fucking ever say them to a woman passing by. Ever.
So, my little nephew, sorry to rant on your parade today but I have some Badass Auntie wisdom for you. Even though you won’t be one of the arseholes, not fit to live with other human beings, who behaves in this manner, you may be a witness to it at some point in your life. This is what to do. Do not confront the arsehole. He’s already begging for attention, is clearly not very intelligent and has issues with his dick. Getting into a confrontation with you will make his pathetic life have meaning. Instead, from a distance (do not approach her as she may already be freaked out by the unwanted attention), ask the woman if she’s alright and if she needs any help. Tell her that what you’ve seen/heard was not OK. Keep an eye on her from a distance (not in a way that makes her think you’re a creeepy stalker with a rescuer’s complex) to make sure she gets out of the situation safely and be willing to call the po po if necessary.
Much love from your Badass Auntie
My little wee bundle of joy, whom I have yet to meet (damn, I hope my use of the word ‘whom’ passes muster with your French Mimi). I’m hoping you don’t ever have to contend with the arsewipes I was talking to your brother about. Maybe humans will be more civilised by the time you grow up. I choose to be a cynical optimist. I think everything will be shit, but hope I’m wrong.
I’m going to move along with this theme a bit and talk to you about something called sexting. I’m mainly talking to you about this because I want the opportunity to include a fucking genius and simply gut wrenchingly brilliant video into my letter to you today. I read this story about a music student at a top notch music school. She received a bunch of texts from a hungover guy who, like the guys mentioned in my letter to your brother, had issues with civilised behaviour and was clearly not even competent to be in possession of a phone, while in the presence of his penis. Hahaha! Maybe that’s where the word ‘dictaphone’ comes from.
These texts were, apparently, not intended for her and I’m afraid that no woman with an ounce of self esteem or intelligence would have found the texts a turn on. Don’t get me wrong, when you get older, if you find a bit of dirty talk with your lover or lovers gets you hot, then go for it, but I really do hope that you’ll have higher standards than ‘There’s going to be a party in your ass tomorrow and my cock is the only one that’s invited’. I have to admit, this made me laugh. I suspect that wasn’t his intention. I think funny guys are sexy. I really do. But that’s when I’m laughing with them, not at them.
So, this young woman did what a smart, creative and blindingly fabulous woman would do. She got some of her other talented mates together and using the texts she received from this college boy/man/thing they produced a song that just pretty much decimates every stupid wankwad who ever thought that texting a woman with “I just puked; If I can’t move, can you just suck my dick good?”, was in anyway a good idea, with intense beauty. So, you can thank me later for sharing this cathartic creation.
My wisdom to you today from your Badass Auntie is, if people are jerks, don’t respond or engage them. Instead, brutally and artfully show the world what they really are. Yes, I believe in revenge, but to be truly effective, it must allow you to walk away laughing, as the world laughs with you and never looking back. Keep it classy kid.
Much love from your Badass Auntie.