by Morgan Freeberg | June 25, 2011 11:51 am
You missed some Friday night fun if you didn’t go here. It all started when blogger friend Mark’s feet were held to the fire…in a loving, caring way, I’m quite sure…for his failure to return the toilet seat to its proper, feminine-friendly, downward position.
We all know what the smart hubby does. He complies, quietly. Well Mark’s smart — so maybe he did that. But he couldn’t resist writing up a treatise wondering what honest men have been wondering since the toilet seat was invented, or at least, since suffrage. Here, I’ll paraphrase:
Duh, hey…if you can do everything I can do, and I’m to think you can under pain of social ostracism and a sumptuous buffet of other penalties…how come you’re so weak and helpless you need me to properly position your commode for you?
Each gender was aptly represented in the ensuing discussion — which, as you can imagine, made things more fun. As you might further imagine, I have discerned that the clean break in the consensus, adhered very cleanly to the boundary that lies between said genders.
And then, as prognosticated, Blogfather Gerard made an entrance and it definitely got more fun. With a title of “If Men Can Put It Up, B*tches Can Put It Down,” he’s pulling no punches.
Perhaps I’m in the minority here once again. Perhaps not. But to me, it isn’t half as objectionable laboring under the burden of putting the seat down — Mom raised me to do that, and these days, I don’t even have to — as it is to wrestle with The Grand, Onerous Dichotomy.
I think the fellas know what I mean.
Girls strong. Girls powerful. Girls smart. Girls capable. Girls can do everything we can do, and don’t you dare think otherwise.
But they’re queasy, writhing, squirming and helpless if we don’t get things ready for them for their most intimate personal tasks, because they are completely incapable of doing it themselves. Even the ultra-feminized variety who makes twice as much loot as you do, and manages to work it into every single conversation…bites your arm off at the shoulder if you so much as dare to open a door for her…cannot handle a curved piece of plastic tilted in the wrong direction at two in the morning.
Both of these, the strength and the weakness, we gentlemen are required to accept without so much as a hint of skepticism or reservation.
We can do this. But not without an instinctive eyeball-roll. And I hate to break it to you gals, but we’re all doing the eyeball-roll. Even the sickeningly post-feminist she-male men who speak in the high voice and use the word “totally” a lot. They think it’s silly, too, they just don’t have the b*lls to say it out loud.
Cross-posted at House of Eratosthenes and Washington Rebel.
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