by Karene Horst
That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m going on strike.
Let me clarify. I’m going on a sex strike. That’s right. I’m not having sex with men anymore. You guys asked for it; this is your punishment for supporting the patriarchal bullshit that has left us with an “alleged”* rapist in the Oval Office, an “alleged” wannabe rapist on the US Supreme Court, and countless mysoginists and assholes in Congress and boardrooms across this country. I’m done with you.
Now I’m sure quite a few guys are breathing a sigh of relief. “Dodged that bullet!” you’re jovially quipping to each other.
Still I’m sure there are some men who might be a tad dismayed. A little sad. The economically disadvantaged who’ve given up the online dating thing, because that picture of you with your motorcycle on Plenty of Fish never earned you any winks.
And of course I’m sure there are a handful of women gasping with shock, wondering how I’ll manage such an insult to my system.
Well I’ve been practicing for quite some time. First of all I was married for almost 20 years. Then I hit my horny 40s with a vengeance as a lusty divorcee, but ended my fifth decade on this planet deeply disappointed in most things male. Nope, don’t think my body will notice a drastic change in circumstances. Nor my social life. Because as a 55-year-old woman, my dating prospects are pretty dismal to say the least.
Sure there’s a guy once in awhile who will leer suggestively, or at least hopefully, in my direction, but for the most part, I’m flying solo. And I’m OK with that. I see what I’m facing as a single woman, and my options are all either dead broke divorced dads looking for a free babysitter, or some guy in his sixties or seventies hoping for one last curtain call before his adult kids cart him off to the nursing home. Most eligible men my age are poaching on the 30-something crowd. Of course they’ll settle for an attractive 40-something with money, but for the most part, I’m not even a blip on their radar screen.
All’s good. I’m not interested in wrestling with viagra-induced erections or providing entertainment once his favorite porn site gets shut down. But nothing cracks me up more to see the guys my age pushing strollers and hauling diaper bags after their 30-something hottie hears the alarm go off on her biological clock.
Still it’s not easy to stay sane with all that’s going on. A majority of the US Senate just approved seating a judge on the US Supreme Court who was accused of trying to rape a 15-year-old when he was 17 years old himself. Plus the other allegations that have no forensic, corroborated proof without a reasonable doubt. The kind of proof you need to lock up someone in prison, that’s what they expected from the FBI in less than a weeklong investigation, which was approved by our “alleged” rapist in chief as long as no one talked to anybody who partied with the “alleged” wannabe rapist and who might have provided testimony on how the accused quite possibly lied to Congress about his teenage drinking problem that could have contributed to his abusive behavior on multiple occasions.
And no one here is really addressing the true disgrace to our nation. Kavanaugh isn’t even being accused of actually raping a teenage girl.
He’s accused of trying to.
Can’t even rape a 15-year-old in a one-piece? What, did she have it soldered on? Snaps, hooks, buttons? Was it made of titanium? How hard is it to get a one-piece bathing suit off a skinny little girl?
And he had help! His buddy was in the room with him and between the two of them, they couldn’t even rape her.
Incompetent! The man is an incompetent rapist and they still put him on the US Supreme Court.
I can just imagine Trump during those hearings. He was probably ready to chuck the whole nomination thinking, if the guy can’t even grab some 15-year old pussy when he was a virile 17-year-old, how’s he gonna keep me out of prison when the indictments start flying?
And this was a job interview! Those senators weren’t there to prosecute Kavanaugh for a crime, they were there to see if he was fit to serve on the US Supreme Court, a lifetime appointment. Judicial temperament my ass.
A national precedent has been set and I can’t wait for my next job interview. To hell with dying my hair to cover those grays or brushing my teeth. I’m showing up with a margarita and an attitude.
If some chick accused Colin Kaepernick of the same behavior, hell if he just looked lasciviously in her direction, Lindsey and his buddies from down south would have lynched Colin. Whipped on those white hoods and dragged him behind a truck. A Ford pickup. We “alleged” victims of sexual assault needed this perennial reminder that white men are not rapists, they are simply exercising executive privilege.
But back to the sex-strike thing. I should probably clarify that. I’m not having sex with WHITE guys; dark-skinned guys may still inquire within. I don’t care if that’s racist. White men must prepare for the time when they are a minority. You dudes need to learn how to develop a tough skin, even without a high concentration of melanin.
And of course there will be those whiny liberal white guys out there blathering that they actually voted for Hilary or they’re really, really sorry about their little hissy-fit over Bernie not making it onto the Democratic ticket. Tough. Collective guilt. Grow a pair.
OK, so let me clarify this one step further.
There are a couple of white guys I would still fuck. Brad Pitt. Gavin Newsome. I would BLOW Gavin Newsome. He has some good street cred as a committed liberal politician.
Just don’t tell his wife or his girlfriend about me.