Millennial Feminists Are Something Else…

I infiltrated the ‘Babe’ group on Facebook because I was curious to see how those who support the website that brought down Aziz Ansari, felt about feminism.  The website is run by a bunch of 20 something millennials who take umbrage at everything a man would ever do.  As someone who used to infiltrate the manosphere for the same purpose-that is, to observe the cultural shift in gender related discussions- I’m loath to say that millennial feminists pander to feminism just to vent about their gender related grievances.  And by that I mean, bitch about every bad date, every bad experience they’ve had with a man.

The first post that really hit me was a girl talking about how ‘weird’ guys would message her on Tinder.  Because you know, you shouldn’t message someone on a dating app.  Ever.  There were a slew of misandrist comments from women who felt like men should never approach them and I was thinking to myself, ‘wait a second, what do these girls want?’  If no man should be allowed to approach a woman, that would be the death of the dating scene.  Women rarely take initiative and the women who would post in this group contradict themselves post after post, sometimes to the extent of ‘begging’ for male attention.

This group of girls claim to be feminists, hardcore feminists at that.  They want to change the culture.  They are ’empowered’.  But those are just glib words that they throw around to profit off the fulcrum of modern feminism, a movement that’s as noble as any human rights movement.  I was taken aback as I started scrolling through the posts, every one of them from a millennial girl who has guy problems, every one of them from a girl who either got snubbed by a guy or whose man thinks she’s crazy, because he gets it, she’s crazy.  It beggars belief that this group of women, who obviously crave male attention more than anything in the world-because that’s what they always talk about-should ever call themselves feminists.  Because feminists they are not, they are just as misguided as Grace, the girl who thought Aziz Ansari could read her mind.

I’m a millennial woman myself and to see how entitled most millennial women are, is pretty appalling.  The movement will go adrift, and like many people have foreshadowed this sad truth, feminism will become a man-hating movement.  Sure, if a man does something horrible that actually warrants criticism, I’m all for it, we’re after all trying to redefine culture in a way that’s healthy for both genders.  But to go around labeling every trivial incident as an aggression against women, is preposterous.  It goes beyond that; most of them don’t see men as human beings.  They’ve mythologized the idea of a man; a man should be well versed in their physical and mental cues, a man should never object to a crazy demand, a man shouldn’t be allowed to make his own choices.  I could go on.  This group of women are as bad as the manosphere.  There’s no opportunity for common ground because their tenets inherently presuppose that men and women aren’t identical beings, but groups with diametrically opposed agendas.

I used to laugh at people who’d equate feminism with man-hating because I thought it was such a vapid categorization, a haughty accusation from those too comfortable to deal with real life injustices related to women.  But I’m slowly beginning to see their prescient judgment coming to light, because it is true.  Millennial women never had to contend with gender-related injustices, second-wave feminists made sure to end that.  But they have to contend with something far more unnerving, their sense of entitlement when it comes to the men in their lives.  And that’s scary, because a whole bunch of men will be attacked and denigrated on the public scene, just like Ansari, because they happened to misread a young entitled millennial princess.

People who perpetually see themselves as victims, no matter the severity of the incident, shouldn’t be allowed to become the cultural dictators of our era.  And certainly not appropriate a word that does nothing to describe what they really are, because feminists find strength and resilience in their struggles and those two things are as alien to them as the notion that men and women can actually co-exist.

 

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A Guide To Dating In Mauritius For Women

We don’t talk about it very often because our culture didn’t evolve to include open dialogue between the sexes and honest discourse on relationships, as a whole.  When was the last time you heard someone holding forth on the aspects of healthy relationships and a healthy sex life?  Sure, we have extensive reading material about those things in our rags but they are glib and superficial.  They’re presented as shock pieces to titillate our curiosity and nothing else.  But in the media and everywhere else, our prudish attitude toward sex prevents us from engaging in insightful and thoughtful conversations that would help us mitigate certain bad consequences that emerge from bad relationships.  And those consequences impact women on a larger scale.

As part of the New Year celebrations, a radio show focused on things that marked us in the past year.  Among the topics that were being expounded, crimes of passion raised the alarm; we have a very unhealthy idea of relationships.  The new year began with another crime of passion making headlines; a jilted husband had shot his wife and then turned the gun on himself.  Another child will be growing up without a family, due to our collective apathy on what is destroying our society from within.  Here are some useful guidelines for dating here, in Mauritius.

1. The misogynistic ones wear their misogyny as a badge of honor-learn to identify the signs

These guys are loud and very passionate about their disdain for women.  When people tell you who they are, believe them.  Those guys always jump at the opportunity to deride women or lecture women on how they ought to behave.  So it goes without saying, they’re quite fond of the traditional gender roles, where they will have the upper-hand, almost all the time.

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Why can’t every man be Don Draper?

Needless to say, your relationship will revolve around his needs, his views and his sexual appetite.  He’s the king and you’re merely the dinner.  Unfortunately, men of the aforementioned creed, make up a huge chunk of the population so you need to learn how to spot them and how to casually avoid them.

 2. Avoid male prudes like the plague

As a 21st century woman, it is quite offensive to imply that women shouldn’t enjoy sex.  It’s biology, it’s science, it’s the core of human existence.  But Mauritius is still quite a dogmatic society where people expect you to abide by the tenets of their religion, as if you’re not allowed to have your own version of tenets to abide by.  As a result, sex is viewed under a very repressive light, that you’re supposed to indulge in it when you’re married and that’s it.  There’s no sexual education for kids in college and teen pregnancy is quite a big problem here, due to this inane misconception about something so natural.

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Tada.

There are many guys here who’ve been raised to think that only they ought to enjoy sex.  It’s very common in oppressive cultures to have men who walk around believing they’re Rocco Siffredi and looking down on women who want a piece of the cake.  Those men are not going to be fun to be with, especially if you’re the kind of woman who’s self confident enough and has a healthy self-esteem.

3. Observe their social circle

Men who cannot be friends with women are almost always sexualizing the opposite gender.  Of course, attraction is normal but a person who cannot overcome physical attraction and maintain platonic relationships with people, is the definition of a red flag.  In Mauritius, many activities are limited to men, and they take great pride in partaking in those activities with their male friends.

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This female computer engineer has no female friends, which is OKAY.

Often, in patriarchal societies like ours, women who mingle with men are harshly excoriated so watch out if your guy has no female friends.  It means that he probably sees women as a dating accessory only.

4. When he overtly criticizes women’s rights movement, he’s telling you he doesn’t think much of women

When someone feels the need to tell you that views on gender shouldn’t evolve and specifically targets your gender as being inferior and not eligible for equal treatment, you have to understand that you will never be equal in their eyes.  There is no worse outcome in a relationship, which ought to be fun and spontaneous.  People who are opposed to your own progress and to the progress of women’s rights in general, are not going to vouch for your well-being.

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Thankfully, he’s not into women.  If he were, he wouldn’t be getting any.

 

It is 2018, the times have changed.  The #MeToo movement has finally sounded the death knell on abuse in many countries, female leaders are more vocal than ever and society is finally making amends for the inequalities of the past in developed countries.  It is time to eradicate these anachronistic attitudes toward women and relationships in Mauritius and level the playing field.

 

How To Cheat On Your Partner Effectively

You want to know right?  You’ve gone over it a few times, you came to the conclusion that your life might be more livable with a bit of spice and excitement.  You acquainted yourself with nihilism and you’ve come to embrace the Absurdist philosophy.  At the same time, you’re not really into your partner at the moment.  You want to feel like you’re in love without really being in love, you want to indulge in the seduction game and get out of it posthaste, you want to have a one-night stand without all the histrionics that would naturally ensue.  Here are 5 tips on how to cheat effectively…and get away with it.

1.Blend your shenanigans with your routine

Don’t go out of your way to make your partner feel special and loved.  Like don’t do it.  That will give it away.  Instead, merge your cheating bouts with your routine.  There’s a thing that’s coming up?  Well don’t go to that thing and plan ahead.  Your partner’s going to visit some relatives over the weekend?  Seize the opportunity, my friend.  Just go with the flow and if it gets kind of complicated, make up excuses that would seem natural.

So you’re horny on a Sunday afternoon but your boring boyfriend is lurking around your house.  What do you do?  You can’t just tell him you’re going shopping, he’s going to want to come along.  After all, it’s a Sunday afternoon.  What you could do instead (and it’s a genius advice), you could act prissy and stir up some shit that would make him not want to talk to you for a while.  ”I’m PMSing, just leave me alone okay.”

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No one wants to hang around someone who’s moping.

I mean it would be easier to just break up with your partner but like, you know you can’t.  So follow these golden rules.

2. Use your stupid brain

Okay, this is like the most important advice in this section.  Know why you’re cheating.  Like sit down with a notepad and write it all down.  Aren’t you just wasting your time maneuvering behind their back when you could just dump them?  It depends on the context, of course, let’s say, if you’re married, it’s a pretty dumb move.  You’re putting everything on the line, son.  Married people ought to think it through more than anyone else, because divorce is expensive and married people tend to over-dramatize everything.  In that case, planning is everything.  Just like you plan your chores, your errands, you’ve gotta plan that booty call way ahead of time.  Just like leaving a reminder on the fridge for some boring shit would remind you of said shit, leave a mental note : ”Thursday, 2 p.m, fucking Karen for 3 hours, then need to pick kids up from their recital.”

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3. Don’t get caught you idiot

Like, don’t fucking carry their underwear with you or write about how good the sex was on your stupid blog.  If you do that, you’re a grade A moron who oughtn’t be getting laid, lest you would pass on those grade A moron genes to your stupid kid.  Do not get caught.  Plan ahead.  If your partner brings up something out of the blue, feign outrage.  Outrage is literally the easiest thing to act out, all you need to do is gasp like a goldfish and slam a door shut.  That would get your partner thinking, ”Jesus what did I do.  I shouldn’t have done that.”  It’s also known as gaslighting, but you don’t care because you’re an asshole right.

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This picture shows that cheating is fun so, don’t get caught.

4. Take a shower after fucking your side whore, you whore

You know how in movies, the first thing that gives it away is the perfume or the cheeky lipstick mark, well like, these movies are very prescient when it comes to the art of cheating.  Most people know what a dick or a pussy smells like, and if you’re going home after sucking dick, you’re most likely gonna bring that smell with you.  And if you’re gonna kiss your husband with that smell hanging all over you, well, you’re the kind of person Hitler would’ve euthanized.  I’m not even kidding.  Take a shower after you’ve done the deed, wash your sins and brush your teeth if you’ve gone down on your lover.

I don’t even know why this is even on the list, but not everyone is a good person I suppose.

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Giggity

5. Use email

Don’t text your side chick every 10 mins or so, if you’re gonna do that, you might as well get a divorce lawyer.  Be smart about cheating, use a disposable email that you would use to set up booty calls, hotel trips, dinners-cum-fuckfests, you name it.  In the end, it’s all about being careful about not being outed as a sex crazed fuckwit.  You have a reputation you know, you are a human being.  In our very conservative society, cheaters are akin to Satan’s stooges.  So be careful about your sinful activities and don’t let your dick tear your family apart.  That’s literally the stupidest thing ever.  Who cries over someone’s dick?

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Which is why, you shouldn’t text them all the time.

What Is Going On?

I was fucking depressed.  All around me, I could hear people talking about stuff but that stuff in itself was pretty depressing.  Bleak and dreary.  And then the Christmas songs were being belted out, loud and merry, you know like an irony.  I looked miserable, surrounded by all these people, vain and glib.  Like I know it’s the Holiday season and everyone is like over the moon (I’m being a killjoy), but do you really have to walk around with that cringe-worthy arrogant look emblazoned on your ugly face?  Like it’s Christmas dude, it happens every year, it’s not like you just got into heaven and you were offered 70 virgins on a silver platter.  Like fucking chill.

The arrogance makes me mad.  More so because, as an empath, I do feel the energy and it’s not a positive energy.  It reeks of mindless consumerism, holier-than-thou gobbledygook that people spew out to mark their superiority.  And underneath all that pizzazz, there is nothing.  Hollow and vacant.  No sense of evil and goodness.  Just follow the herd, my freund.  And then I look at the guys, slumped against a street corner, looking pretty shitty I’m afraid, and I feel for them.  Because that’s essentially the human condition.  What they experience physically, we all experience mentally, but we’re too afraid to face our fears.  Isn’t that why we keep pretending like death is so fucking far away?  When it was just yesterday that we learnt we exist.

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I feel connected to people when the energy is right, when the balance isn’t skewed and when they are being real.  And it happens a lot of times, but the reverse does as well.  I do not understand why people are so afraid to reckon with reality, I mean I do on the surface, but doesn’t it eat them up to always have to wear that mask?  Isn’t that an encumbrance in itself?  Why do we live life, like we aren’t supposed to live life?

But I digress.  I’m just being true to my misanthropic self, in this moment of utter joy and jubilation.  Haa, I’m so fucking happy!  CHRISTMAS.  MONEY.  GIFTS.

 

Meh

Faustian Bargain

I have like the worst karma in the universe, and I don’t mean it as a hyperbole but just, the weird pattern my life usually follows, draws it out for me.  I get my comeuppance right at a curve and  like an economic graph (economic major yo), my life just goes up and down in a haphazard fashion, that sometimes that ephemeral stability just kind of irks me.  But it’s not just me.  Someone told me today that they enjoyed being in an induced coma, and I concurred.  There’s nothing better than forcing your body to slow down, and I would like to think that the gift of nights lies in the beauty of sleep.  Sleeping is as beautiful as living, if not more so.

I’m not a bad person.  I’m indifferent.  I don’t do things to people, I do things to myself because I’m my own universe.  And I think when you follow that line of thought, it’s hard to be evil and vituperative.  Like I’m just trying to make sense of all this shit, to even give a shit, and not giving a shit requires a certain amount of distance from all the drama.  Not that I don’t have time for drama, but I guess I always have to be the protagonist in my tragedies.  And that’s why I’m not a bad person, doing bad things to people would require forethought, afterthought and machinations and I just haven’t got the time, nor the motivation.

Since that’s been laid out, I do feel guilty for things I shouldn’t be feeling guilty for.  Because whether I like it or not, people get sucked into our lives, without us even wanting them to.  And I guess that makes me human.  That’s my saving grace, my road to Pollyanna-ism.  Anyway, the story does get better though, as it often does after every blood-curdling misadventure.  So 00tz fucks up again, everyone hates her, sidelong glances and everything.  But she gets picked up, by a jolt!  That’s my personal catch-22; every misfortune is followed by a random streak of luck.

As a result of that coup de grace, 00tz will finally be embracing her Argonaut roots (00tz has always been very adventurous) and will relocate to a strange land very soon.  It is important for a man to tackle different levels of hardship and learn to reckon with his spirit in the direst of circumstances.  And what better way to learn that, than to abscond and find the perfect hideaway ?  After all, if not for the random conundrums, when would one find catharsis?  Let me savor my catharsis.

 

I love Bukowski

Distances Between The Minds

”Shithead.”

Okay I’m used to it, I suppose when you nonchalantly ghost people, you kind of deserve the abuse coming your way.  I snickered.  I felt bad but man, it felt good to be bad.  I didn’t want to disappoint him, but at the same time, I couldn’t care less.  Apathy, when you truly feel it in the core of your being, when it reverberates in your bones, when it’s the primary feeling you’re ruled by, well it’s a pleasant sensation, I’d have to admit.  It feels good to not be tied to all these obligations.  Like you’re nothing to me, why should I try to meet your expectations?  But of course I wouldn’t say that, that would require a modicum of self-awareness, that I clearly do not possess.  Or rather, I try to evade it, I try to stay within the limits of my own childish preconceptions.  Certain things are beyond my grasp, like knowing what to say when you’ve clearly disappointed someone who was expecting an iota of reciprocity from you.

But I do not care.  I try to ratiocinate every once in a while but the thing is, I just don’t care.  It is perhaps the most sordidly pleasant feeling of all, when you can just douse all your misfortunes with levity.  I don’t even have misfortunes anymore, I have coincidences.  And I cannot say, where this equanimity stems from, I just know what perhaps, there’s a tiny cell in my brain working to make it happen, like full-blown not-giving-a-shitism.  I want to live like that.  I want to defy the matrix.  Okay that was a bad analogy, I do not want conspiracy theorists or red-pilled spergs reading my blog.

It is interesting, in a sense, to broach this topic.  Swami Vivekanda spoke of that united consciousness, you know this maze of souls, all interconnected, intertwined, feeding each other and off each other, unfurling a vast reality of which only humankind is aware.  My god, what a load of bullshit.  It is probably cynical of me to say but the distance is salient, and couldn’t be even more obvious.  The way that everything you say is lobbed back at you with a question mark or an exclamation mark, just makes me think that perhaps, just perhaps, we don’t really give a shit about each other.

 

Whatever.

Why Is Death So Sad?

The great minds of yore would ponder.  Whether it was Nietzsche or even Hobbes, they philosophized about death more than anything, more than even their shitty lives.  And then the Absurdist movement was de rigueur in the 60s, which gave us nice works of art, movies, Camus and Sartre.  It was all about death and how living is worse than it.  And the old adage still holds true.  Aren’t we just traipsing along until the end finally befalls us, in whichever manner we dread?  Aren’t we just waiting for our own death knell?  Well, I guess it depends on your quality of life, and what those assumptions about death would cost you, in terms of joie-de-vivre and cash.

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Death is the end, that’s all there is to it.  Just like we’ve marketed love and grief, we’ve done the same thing to death to assuage our pecuniary desires.  And as a result, this mindless concoction of apocryphal truths weighs heavily on our conscience.  Just like, having no money does.  Just like, being a virgin does.  Because we’re made to think about it, to hint at it even when we’re in the best of moods, even when nothing should steal our thunder.  But then your tv screen lights up to the generic tune of the moment, the empty people regurgitating their spiel, and you don’t really give a fuck but it lingers in your mind.  It tells you, hey Joe, you’re gonna die soon.  Go to the gym Joe.  Get a girl before you die Joe.  Just do it.

But Death is not sad, it’s only sad when it happens without your consent.  Because we’re all going to die, regardless of our lofty ideas about ourselves, regardless of our values and food habits.  In a way, we all consent to it in the end.  Maybe even before the end.  Because when you think, your mind reminds you that every past moment is a facsimile of the inevitable.  A harbinger of death.

 

Whatever.