[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
Finally, the answer to one of the most vexing questions of all time is here. What is the real difference between men and women?
To answer that, I need to illustrate with a micro short story that goes like this:
It’s a sultry afternoon in the City. The bar is air-conditioned cool, the lights are low and it being only 3:30 of a Friday afternoon, very few patrons are within. In fact there are only a half dozen or so taking up some 4 tables.
At the bar, all by herself, sits a young and very pretty woman sipping on a martini. She seems to be putting all of her energy in tasting and enjoying her drink. She smiles, absorbed in her own world.
The street door opens and a middle aged man in suit and tie, of average height, slighly balding and packing just a bit of a paunch, walks in, slows down and looks over the situation. Looking at the man I’d say he’s an insurance salesman, or a lawyer who has decided to quit work for the day and get an early start on the weekend. It’s Labour Day weekend after all and he probably wondered all day why he bothered to go to work at all.
Predictably he sees the short-skirted, long haired brunette at the bar and predictably he walks up to her and sits on the adjacent stool. Just as predictably, he says, “That martini looks done. Can I buy you a drink?”
The girl slowly turns her head to him and presents him with an enigmatic smile, taking plenty of time to reply, “Thank you, no. I buy my own drinks.”
Now before we get into what sort of comeback he’d have to that, let’s stop the action here and consider the drama in the making. What is happening here? An age-old situation, that’s what: man accosting woman. Woman responding.
This is where we realize the difference between men and women. The man approaches the woman and makes his overtures. He has no idea what the woman is thinking, or what she wants. Would it matter to him? Not in the least. What matters is what he wants, and what he is thinking and in a properly working universe, she’d be acquiescing. Doesn’t the length of her skirt prove it?
But we don’t live in a properly working universe. Men and women prove that. The youngish woman, though seemingly innocent, knows from the moment the man walks towards her, what he wants, and what he is thinking. And now it becomes a game in which, barring superior force and violence, she is the master player because of this difference: a woman knows what a man wants; a man has no idea what a woman wants so must assume, and conclude, that she wants what he wants. Apart from lacking any imagination, it’s really a dumb assumption; a worse conclusion.
And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is why we have misogyny on this planet and why the mental gap between the sexes can never be closed.