The Feminine Mystique

Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night — she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question — "Is this all?"

- Betty Friedan, 'The Feminine Mystique'

Last night, I found myself out with a charming young man, or so I thought.

It was a normal first date, where the male struts about like a proud peacock, trying to impress the female with exaggerated displays of masculinity. The young man in question (let's for simplicity, call him, Jeff) seemed to be quite advanced in that area, choosing a constricting shirt, showing his 'dashing' muscles, and an exaggerated belt buckle, subconsciously intended to draw attention to the crotch. The perfect male specimen.

Some of you may wonder why I bothered with this typical Alpha Male.

Frankly, why should I judge by appearance, when I don't like people judging me on how I present myself?

A tangent none the less, yet valid.

The evening began in a typical fashion, Jeff picking me up, handing me flowers (which at the time frustrated me, as it's a gross stereotype that all women must adore recieving flowers), and relaying his plans of dinner and a movie. Or, should I say, movie and then dinner.

Now, I had no clue what I was seeing, I had no idea where I was going. When I inquired, I was told that 'It's a small detail that I don't need to concern myself with'. Now, the lights in my head should have flashed at that stage.

So, metaphorically blind, I followed him around (he had bought movie tickets previously, insisting that he pays, and yet again I realise the lights should have flashed) and found myself sitting in the cinema, watching 'Fast & The Furious'.

Now, as another tangent, I don't know what compelled Jeff to believe that it was movie I was interested in. Not because it's clearly a movie aimed at males, yet because the last few in the series thoroughly lacked a decent plot. Why would I waste my time seeing something that doesn't go anywhere, or stimulate my mind?

Yet, I made no complaint, and sat there in silence, mentally berating the creators of this movie.

One thing I noticed in this movie that really ticked me off. All the woman were completely objectified. Yes, because every woman who loves cars and guns must also love skin tight mini skirts, plunging necklines, and wearing three inches of make-up. Because everyone associated cars and guns with sex, and relate to them as huge turn on. (As a side note, I adore cars, and the 1973 mustang in the movie was beautiful, yet it doesn't mean it makes me want to sleep with the closest male specimen.) This fact also made me wonder what compelled Jeff to believe this was an appropriate date movie.

It's like Women's Liberation never existed.

Moving forward (or more accurately, backwards), we left the cinema, Jeff in great praise of the 'fantastic' movie we just saw. Non-committaly, I smiled, wondering what the hell I was doing there.

We proceeded to dinner, ordering and eating our food, engaging in small talk. You know, where you're from, what you do, etc.

When it was time for coffee, our conversation yet again came around to the movie. I found, after a few wines, that this time I couldn't keep my mouth shut, vocalising the lack of respect the film makers showed towards their female characters.

Surprisingly, Jeff agreed.

I found this quite refreshing, and conversation turned to how women should be seen. This is where things get sticky.

Jeff was all for women attending University, and pursuing a career.

Until marraige.

It was okay for single woman to have a career, and do things for herself, but young Jeff felt that a woman's worth started when she was married. She already had her fling at life, and now her duty was to support her husband, provide a nice home, and look after little Bessy and Tessy. He didn't feel it was necessary for women to work after marraige, as it's the man's place to be the sole bread winner. It was the woman's place to stay at home.

Angrily, I questioned him on why it has to be the woman who stays at home. Why can't men stay at home? Well, his answer was definitely informative.

Because that's the way it's always been, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

Gracefully, of course, I informed that this was going no where, said my good byes, and caught a taxi home.

Jeff really informed, and I found that I couldn't stop thinking about him and his old-fashioned views. His wrong old-fashioned views.

That got me thinking.

How many men have I met like that?

The answer: Tonnes.

That promted me to start this Blog, and if I can inform one egotisical male, or support any female suffering from this, that will be fantastic.

Things are better than they were 50 years ago, but this proves that we still have a long way to go.

No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor.

-Betty Friedan

~ Vivacious Curvaceous