Why I Can’t Take Feminists Seriously

As I went jogging I happened upon the local art school. I was always curious what sort of art they taught in Berlin, so I went in and took a look.

drawingboundaries
Stay away from me! You pervert! You predator! You dangerous thing you!
scissors
Undocumented sex workers won’t get protected by the police; 8% of women report to the police, only 3% acknowledged: the police support sexual violence!
shame
You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re too close!
proximity
My goodness, I’m such a Predator.

As a guy who used to be terrfied of women I was attracted to, I find this ridiculous. I used to “respect their boundaries” a lot. Let me tell you how that worked out: NOTHING HAPPENED.

In fact, the girls I liked never even noticed me, precisely because I didn’t do jack shit.

I never wanted to be the one to make the first move. But I had to. Because women wouldn’t do it for me.

And these women, who obviously don’t know what it’s like to actually find a partner, are trying to shame men.

Are they going to make the first move then?

No.

Are they willing to risk getting rejected or embarrassed?

No.

They don’t even know what it’s like to put yourself out there and get waved away like a fly, because society dictates that men should make the first move. They just gather around reciting rape stats.

Why are only 3% of rape cases acknowledged? Maybe it’s because today’s women love making false rape claims?

Sure, now and then there’s a guy who doesn’t know what to do with his sex drive. Not everybody can be an expert. That’s when women should be graceful.

Don’t know what that means? It means deflect, don’t punch back. Reject immediately, yet kindly and with compassion.

For men are supposed to be strong, thus women should be loving and gracious. How else is one supposed to become the amazing Mr. Right that swoops her off her feet? Mr. Rights don’t grow on trees.

This was the only one I agreed with
This was the only one I agreed with

It seems school was out, but as I walked around I saw two women conversing under a tree. As I walked closer to them, I saw the way they looked at me, how they were pushing me away with their eyes.

You could tell from their skin that these women had been marinating in smoky bars for far too long, yet if you asked them their age they might not even have hit 40.

I have no idea how women of such spiritual and physical beauty could possibly get laid.

Perhaps male feminist supporters line up meekly, waiting to be admitted into the privileged realm of their sourpussies.

Perhaps most of them converted into lesbianism.

All I know is, there were no signs of any males at that art school. Guess they like it that way.

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