27 Reasons Feminism Is Not ‘For Everybody’

1. I don’t need feminism because I don’t like playing victim.

2. I don’t need feminism, because as a woman in western society who has the luxury to sit inside her own house, in a comfortable bed with a laptop and has access to the internet I would feel ashamed to consider myself “oppressed” or complain about nonsense-issues, while women in other countries have to endure real suffering.

3. I don’t need feminism because the movement is filled with hypocrisy.

4. I don’t need feminism because it’s okay, somehow, to call men creeps and pedophiles, but it’s an absolute sin to call women sluts, even when the women who being called sluts are sluts.

5. I don’t need feminism because I was told by a feminist that because I am anti-feminist I cannot go around saying I’m pro-equality. Because apparently feminists not only invented fighting for human rights they also patented it.

6. I don’t need feminism because they make me feel bad about loving to be girly. I love skirts, dresses, make up and everything like that, I don’t want to be masculine to be a “good” and “clever” girl.

7. I don’t need feminism because rape is a crime issue, not a gender issue.

8. I don’t need feminism because after years of my friends and family telling me to love and accept my obese body, I watched my father die at 55 from a heart attack. He was obese too but weighed less than I did. I’ve lost 80 pounds since then and I’m still going, that’s how I love my body. That’s how I want everyone to love their bodies.

9. I don’t need feminism because feminist claim America is a patriarchal society yet they ask those men to do things for them.

10. I don’t need feminism because I know that it’s possible to put yourself into “rapey” situations.

11. I don’t need feminism because they’re too unintelligent to understand that rape culture is a myth.

12. I don’t need feminism because I don’t believe in slut shaming. I believe in freedom of speech. A person has the right to call you a slut for sleeping with several people and a person has the right to call you awesome for sleeping with several people.

13. I don’t need feminism because they seem to ignore transwomen.

14. I don’t need feminism because I don’t have a victim complex.

15. I don’t need feminism because I’m capable of critical thinking and don’t need other women representing me.

16. I don’t need feminism because they paint women as these weak little creature who need saving and government giving protection.

17. I don’t need feminism because I’m a humanist.

18. I don’t need feminism because I realize men have issues too.

19. I don’t need feminism because it’s an inherently biased and sexist group.

20. I don’t need feminism because I don’t believe I should get special privileges because I have a vagina.

21. I don’t need feminism because it only focuses on working class women.

22. I don’t need feminism because women can opt out of motherhood but men can’t opt out of fatherhood. Males are forced to either take care of their kids or pay child.

23. I don’t need feminism because I don’t like blaming society for my problems.

24. I don’t need feminism because the wage gap is a myth.

25. I don’t need feminism because I don’t find anything wrong with rape jokes.

26. I don’t need feminism because my gender doesn’t make me weak.

27. I don’t need feminism because I’m a logical person who sees the misandry in feminism.

Why You Shouldn’t Have Sex With Your Roommate

Graduate from college with dreams as big as your bank account is small. Flee to the west coast in pursuit of the clichéd Hollywood dream. Move in with your best friend of the opposite sex, your ultimate sidekick in this romanticized pursuit of fame and fortune. Laugh when your friends poke fun at the absurdity of the situation. “When you’re both famous, we better get cool stuff!” they’ll demand as you pack up your few belongings and prepare for the cross country drive. “You guys are totally going to hook up,” they’ll nag jokingly. Roll your eyes and summon a gag. Assure your friends that that will never, ever happen.

Forfeit your own bathroom and sign a year lease on the east side of the city to minimize your monthly rent. Adjust to your new surroundings and the rules that follow from living with a boy. Start removing your hair from the shower drain and throwing your tampons away with utmost discretion. Demand he put the seat down after every use. Assemble a home together, furnished with flea market bargains and neglected street side treasures. Paint the walls, hang some posters, invest in a teapot and other basic kitchen accessories. Spend your weeks glued to the common room floor (you can’t afford a couch or a desk just yet). Crank out writing samples and encourage one another to make moves in the direction of their dreams. Go out together on the weekends. Attempt to wingman each other. Realize your bi-gendered duo is utterly ineffective in the hunt for love. Settle at a table with just the two of you, finish a couple of whiskeys, and return home to your respective bedrooms.

Eventually start to make friends. Laugh when they voice suspicion about your living situation. Insist, time and time again, that your friendship is entirely platonic. Note crushes you’ve had on each other’s friends. Tell the tale of summers past when your best friend manically picked up the pieces of your heart after it had been stomped to pieces by your first love. Follow up with the tale of how you did the same when your best girlfriend in the world broke his. Emphasize the fact that he dated your very best girlfriend. Watch as the conversation is immediately put to rest.

Reminisce about “the good ol’ days” of college over ramen noodles and dispensary weed. Familiarize yourself with every detail of your roommate’s feelings and behaviors. Reveal to him every detail of yours. Find comfort in the strength and exclusivity of your friendship. Spend most nights at home watching Frasier on your brand new, thirsted couch. Feel home sick and decide to cuddle. While in his arms, verbalize how silly your friends are to think your friendship could be anything more. Mean it. Gage the reaction of your roommate and confirm he means it too.

Repeat your actions for several months. Continue to write and drink whiskey together. Do everything in your power to make each other happy in this big, sprawled out, and increasingly lonely city. Continue to snuggle together. Commiserate over your inexplicable winter blues that occur, despite the pristine LA weather. Allow yourselves to intertwine tighter and tighter. Talk about your past. Talk about your future. Talk about anything and everything in between.

Return from work one night feeling particularly lonely. Go for a walk with your roommate and elaborate on your current state of mind. Find out that he feels lonely too. Comfort yourselves with whiskey, pot, and a sitcom streamed from Hulu (who can afford cable?). Agree to cuddle once more. Feel suddenly aware of your roommate’s tight hold around your body. Carefully grab for his hand and allow your tangled fists to rest gently against your chest. Feel his heart beat pounding against your back. Wonder if he can feel yours.

Remember the last time you hooked up with a friend and the disaster that followed. Dismiss it. Remember the meaningful relationship he had with your best girlfriend. Dismiss that as well. Take a deep breath and turn to face each other.

Wake up and talk about the night before. Laugh it off as a silly one-time thing. Promise not to tell a soul. ??Do it again… and again… and again.?? Let every initiated cuddle turn into more. Each night, joke about the crassness of your decisions. Stop going out with your friends in favor of staying in together. Text and email incessantly throughout the day.

Do not acknowledge the number of waking and sleeping hours spent communicating or hanging out one-on-one. Never acknowledge the pain this would cause your best girlfriend if she were ever to find out. Never, ever acknowledge that this is the closest you’ve felt to a boy in years.?? Spend an entire Saturday laughing, kissing and rolling around in bed.

Ignore all calls and text messages and decide to order in to avoid leaving the couch.

“This has to stop,” he’ll say mid make-out, catching you entirely off guard.

“You’re totally right,” you’ll agree, fumbling to hide your disappointment.

He’ll ask if you’re okay. You’ll tell him of course and ask back, to which he’ll reply the same.

“I really care about you and all, but it’s probably best to quit while that is still the case,” you’ll say playfully, alluding to your legendary inability to care for the same boy for more than a week.

“Good,” He’ll say, sounding disconcertingly relieved. “I mean, we’re 23 years old… and it’s just sex. Plus, let’s be honest, you and I would never, ever work out.”

Smile as he kisses you on the head and retreats to his room. Feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach as he closes the door.

Start dating other people and encourage him to do the same. Act happy for each other and laugh at the crazies you encounter time and time again. Feel relieved when he acknowledges the insignificance of the girls he goes out with. Make certain he knows you feel the same about your varying flavors of the week.

“I think I met someone,” he’ll announce after a long day of work.

“Oooooh tell me more!” You’ll probe, focusing intently on stabilizing your voice inflections.

“She’s an actress on the film I’m working on. We’re going out tonight. I’m nervous,” he’ll state.

Help him dress and wish him well on his date. Wait up on the couch in anticipation of what would surely be another disappointing dinner with a vapid, LA local.

Feel foolish when the clock strikes 3 a.m. and he has not returned. Acknowledge that he’s not coming home and put yourself to bed. ??Feel regret thrust chills through your body. Cry. Remember that you can’t tell a soul about your situation. Cry harder. Ignore phone calls from your best girlfriend asking how you’re doing and initiating a visit west. Remind yourself what a terrible friend you are. Cry yourself to sleep.

Pretend not to have noticed when your roommate returns home the next morning. Act happy for him when, night after night, he continues to stay over at her place. Act cavalier when he begins breaking plans with you in favor of her. Get pings of excitement when you receive a new text. Feel embarrassed when you realize it’s not from him. Stop writing. Stop eating. Start sleeping with boys you care little about. Perfect a facade of happiness when your roommate is present. Take drugs and have more sex when he’s not. Do everything thinkable in the realm of self-destruction in a desperate attempt to numb your senses. Fail miserably.

Meet her. See firsthand how smart, beautiful and sophisticated she really is. Envy her knowledge of your roommate’s musical taste and love of old films. Tell her how happy you are to finally meet her and how you look forward to being great friends.

Remember that, at the end of the day, he’s your best friend in the world and deserves to be happy. Bury your feelings to the best of your ability, and pay your sixth month of rent.

Why You Shouldn’t Have Sex With Your Roommate

Graduate from college with dreams as big as your bank account is small. Flee to the west coast in pursuit of the clichéd Hollywood dream. Move in with your best friend of the opposite sex, your ultimate sidekick in this romanticized pursuit of fame and fortune. Laugh when your friends poke fun at the absurdity of the situation. “When you’re both famous, we better get cool stuff!” they’ll demand as you pack up your few belongings and prepare for the cross country drive. “You guys are totally going to hook up,” they’ll nag jokingly. Roll your eyes and summon a gag. Assure your friends that that will never, ever happen.

Forfeit your own bathroom and sign a year lease on the east side of the city to minimize your monthly rent. Adjust to your new surroundings and the rules that follow from living with a boy. Start removing your hair from the shower drain and throwing your tampons away with utmost discretion. Demand he put the seat down after every use. Assemble a home together, furnished with flea market bargains and neglected street side treasures. Paint the walls, hang some posters, invest in a teapot and other basic kitchen accessories. Spend your weeks glued to the common room floor (you can’t afford a couch or a desk just yet). Crank out writing samples and encourage one another to make moves in the direction of their dreams. Go out together on the weekends. Attempt to wingman each other. Realize your bi-gendered duo is utterly ineffective in the hunt for love. Settle at a table with just the two of you, finish a couple of whiskeys, and return home to your respective bedrooms.

Eventually start to make friends. Laugh when they voice suspicion about your living situation. Insist, time and time again, that your friendship is entirely platonic. Note crushes you’ve had on each other’s friends. Tell the tale of summers past when your best friend manically picked up the pieces of your heart after it had been stomped to pieces by your first love. Follow up with the tale of how you did the same when your best girlfriend in the world broke his. Emphasize the fact that he dated your very best girlfriend. Watch as the conversation is immediately put to rest.

Reminisce about “the good ol’ days” of college over ramen noodles and dispensary weed. Familiarize yourself with every detail of your roommate’s feelings and behaviors. Reveal to him every detail of yours. Find comfort in the strength and exclusivity of your friendship. Spend most nights at home watching Frasier on your brand new, thirsted couch. Feel home sick and decide to cuddle. While in his arms, verbalize how silly your friends are to think your friendship could be anything more. Mean it. Gage the reaction of your roommate and confirm he means it too.

Repeat your actions for several months. Continue to write and drink whiskey together. Do everything in your power to make each other happy in this big, sprawled out, and increasingly lonely city. Continue to snuggle together. Commiserate over your inexplicable winter blues that occur, despite the pristine LA weather. Allow yourselves to intertwine tighter and tighter. Talk about your past. Talk about your future. Talk about anything and everything in between.

Return from work one night feeling particularly lonely. Go for a walk with your roommate and elaborate on your current state of mind. Find out that he feels lonely too. Comfort yourselves with whiskey, pot, and a sitcom streamed from Hulu (who can afford cable?). Agree to cuddle once more. Feel suddenly aware of your roommate’s tight hold around your body. Carefully grab for his hand and allow your tangled fists to rest gently against your chest. Feel his heart beat pounding against your back. Wonder if he can feel yours.

Remember the last time you hooked up with a friend and the disaster that followed. Dismiss it. Remember the meaningful relationship he had with your best girlfriend. Dismiss that as well. Take a deep breath and turn to face each other.

Wake up and talk about the night before. Laugh it off as a silly one-time thing. Promise not to tell a soul. ??Do it again… and again… and again.?? Let every initiated cuddle turn into more. Each night, joke about the crassness of your decisions. Stop going out with your friends in favor of staying in together. Text and email incessantly throughout the day.

Do not acknowledge the number of waking and sleeping hours spent communicating or hanging out one-on-one. Never acknowledge the pain this would cause your best girlfriend if she were ever to find out. Never, ever acknowledge that this is the closest you’ve felt to a boy in years.?? Spend an entire Saturday laughing, kissing and rolling around in bed.

Ignore all calls and text messages and decide to order in to avoid leaving the couch.

“This has to stop,” he’ll say mid make-out, catching you entirely off guard.

“You’re totally right,” you’ll agree, fumbling to hide your disappointment.

He’ll ask if you’re okay. You’ll tell him of course and ask back, to which he’ll reply the same.

“I really care about you and all, but it’s probably best to quit while that is still the case,” you’ll say playfully, alluding to your legendary inability to care for the same boy for more than a week.

“Good,” He’ll say, sounding disconcertingly relieved. “I mean, we’re 23 years old… and it’s just sex. Plus, let’s be honest, you and I would never, ever work out.”

Smile as he kisses you on the head and retreats to his room. Feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach as he closes the door.

Start dating other people and encourage him to do the same. Act happy for each other and laugh at the crazies you encounter time and time again. Feel relieved when he acknowledges the insignificance of the girls he goes out with. Make certain he knows you feel the same about your varying flavors of the week.

“I think I met someone,” he’ll announce after a long day of work.

“Oooooh tell me more!” You’ll probe, focusing intently on stabilizing your voice inflections.

“She’s an actress on the film I’m working on. We’re going out tonight. I’m nervous,” he’ll state.

Help him dress and wish him well on his date. Wait up on the couch in anticipation of what would surely be another disappointing dinner with a vapid, LA local.

Feel foolish when the clock strikes 3 a.m. and he has not returned. Acknowledge that he’s not coming home and put yourself to bed. ??Feel regret thrust chills through your body. Cry. Remember that you can’t tell a soul about your situation. Cry harder. Ignore phone calls from your best girlfriend asking how you’re doing and initiating a visit west. Remind yourself what a terrible friend you are. Cry yourself to sleep.

Pretend not to have noticed when your roommate returns home the next morning. Act happy for him when, night after night, he continues to stay over at her place. Act cavalier when he begins breaking plans with you in favor of her. Get pings of excitement when you receive a new text. Feel embarrassed when you realize it’s not from him. Stop writing. Stop eating. Start sleeping with boys you care little about. Perfect a facade of happiness when your roommate is present. Take drugs and have more sex when he’s not. Do everything thinkable in the realm of self-destruction in a desperate attempt to numb your senses. Fail miserably.

Meet her. See firsthand how smart, beautiful and sophisticated she really is. Envy her knowledge of your roommate’s musical taste and love of old films. Tell her how happy you are to finally meet her and how you look forward to being great friends.

Remember that, at the end of the day, he’s your best friend in the world and deserves to be happy. Bury your feelings to the best of your ability, and pay your sixth month of rent.

Let Me Have My Way With You Tonight

Come, lay with me.

Let me hold you close. Feel the heat emanate from my body, feel my blood pumping, my heartbeat, the you effect . Let me graze my fingers lightly over your body, let me electrify you.

Let yourself go, be free. Let me have you tonight.

Let me undress you slowly as we kiss, taking in each and every part of you. Tonight, let my eyes devour you.

Let me stroke your hair gently as we struggle to regulate our now out of control breathing. Let’s turn up the heat.

Allow me to taste you. Let me experience the natural taste of you that always has me going crazy. I’ll do it just right. Shhh, lay back, relax. Let me drive you crazy.

Let’s kiss. Let’s lose ourself in the sea of love, in our own world. Let me hold your face in my palms while our lips, gently but firmly, lock. Let our tongues find each other’s. Don’t hold back. The heat between us doesn’t have to cool down.

Let’s pull back for a moment. Let my eyes look deep into yours. Let my eyes tell you how much I want you. Let my hand travel south once more, let me feel your warmth.

Let’s not wait any longer.

We’ll start a little slow then we’ll pick up the pace once you are almost there. When your body won’t be able to hold back the intense build up in you, when you are there, I’ll bend down for a kiss. Take my face in your warm and tender palms, look me deep in the eyes, let me know how much into the moment you are. Breathe into me, let me feel your wave of satisfaction from head to toe.

When the wave is gone and you are calmer, I’ll try to match my breathing with yours as we slowly carry on.

When I’m there, I’ll look you in the eyes, just to show you how much I am into the moment.

Come, lay with me. Let’s stay in this bed and never leave.

Let Me Have My Way With You Tonight

Come, lay with me.

Let me hold you close. Feel the heat emanate from my body, feel my blood pumping, my heartbeat, the you effect . Let me graze my fingers lightly over your body, let me electrify you.

Let yourself go, be free. Let me have you tonight.

Let me undress you slowly as we kiss, taking in each and every part of you. Tonight, let my eyes devour you.

Let me stroke your hair gently as we struggle to regulate our now out of control breathing. Let’s turn up the heat.

Allow me to taste you. Let me experience the natural taste of you that always has me going crazy. I’ll do it just right. Shhh, lay back, relax. Let me drive you crazy.

Let’s kiss. Let’s lose ourself in the sea of love, in our own world. Let me hold your face in my palms while our lips, gently but firmly, lock. Let our tongues find each other’s. Don’t hold back. The heat between us doesn’t have to cool down.

Let’s pull back for a moment. Let my eyes look deep into yours. Let my eyes tell you how much I want you. Let my hand travel south once more, let me feel your warmth.

Let’s not wait any longer.

We’ll start a little slow then we’ll pick up the pace once you are almost there. When your body won’t be able to hold back the intense build up in you, when you are there, I’ll bend down for a kiss. Take my face in your warm and tender palms, look me deep in the eyes, let me know how much into the moment you are. Breathe into me, let me feel your wave of satisfaction from head to toe.

When the wave is gone and you are calmer, I’ll try to match my breathing with yours as we slowly carry on.

When I’m there, I’ll look you in the eyes, just to show you how much I am into the moment.

Come, lay with me. Let’s stay in this bed and never leave.

When He’s Not Your Priority (But You’re His)

It’s one of the hardest things in life, loving someone and exerting your full effort for them, and not getting the same in return. We all know what it’s like. We’ve watched it on movies, read it on novels, on articles, heard it from friends, and we may have experienced it at least once. But what they forget to include in movies and novels is the more difficult struggle from the other side of the story. They say mature love is putting someone else’s needs above yours. What if you’re the someone whose needs are put above the other? Nothing is more difficult than loving someone very much, and knowing you can’t equal the overflowing love they give you. These people, people like you, are often branded as selfish. But when you are his source of happiness, and he is yours, and he’s okay with you putting him below your list, is it still selfish? We are all advised not to base our happiness on a boy who can change his mind any day. But when the boy bases his happiness on a girl like you, what can you do?

So you’re in love with a boy. And he loves you back. But you don’t prioritize him as much as he does you. He’s not a priority, but he’s not an option either. He is your security whenever you feel lost. He is the person who, without a doubt, will “always be there for you” because you’re sure and secured of his feelings for you. You know he’s a keeper. Definitely a keeper. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, he’s perfect. He treats you like how you dreamt of being treated—like a princess on some days, like a queen on most. And there you are, thanking him for everything. Just thanking him. There are days that you feel like a monster, and quite frankly, you are. You’re a monster who devours this poor boy’s heart.

You create and plant a false image of perfection in this poor boy’s mind. You make him feel like he’s lucky to have you, when the truth is you’re lucky to have him. You will never find somebody else who will put up with you and all your complexities like he does. You feel guilty every single day of your life and you know it’s only right to give back. Give back what he had given you. But you just can’t. He is important to you, but no matter how important he is, there will always be something more important than him. And on some days that’s okay. On some days, it’s explicable. But the longer the time you spend with him, the lower he drops on your list of important things in life. Your family will always be your priority, or your career, or your religion, or anything else. But you know it will never be him. And again, that’s okay; healthy, even. When he tells you he needs you, does he really need you? Or does he need the thought of having somebody to love? If you can’t reciprocate the love he gives, it doesn’t mean you don’t love him. But you will never stop thinking about how you’re not good enough for the boy who loves you sincerely.

You will never stop genuinely thinking about how you’re toxic for him, even when he says you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You care for him, and you love him, but he just always cares for and loves you more. You can’t, nor can you ever, match his affection for you and it will always bother you. You will always feel sorry for him. You will always feel like you’re taking him for granted. You will always feel selfish and self-absorbed whenever he’s being kind to you even when you’re being really unreasonable (which is all the time). You know you will hurt him, really bad, when you leave him. In fact, you wouldn’t want to leave him, but you know he deserves more than you. He deserves somebody who puts him on top of the list because that’s where he should be. He deserves somebody who will go out of their way to make him happy. He deserves everything you can’t give. You will always want the best for him… and for some reason, you’ve always known it isn’t you. As painful as it seems, it’s the truth. You know that the right thing to do is to let him go and let him find the happiness he deserves, not the illusion of happiness he feels with you. But you can’t do that. You can’t imagine him being happy with anybody else but you.

Maybe you have yet to realize the importance of giving someone your all. Maybe you have yet to find the part of your heart that can love, really love, and love deeply. Maybe you have yet to learn that loving someone means giving more than what you’re capable of. But… at the end of the day, the only choice you have is to give him the power to decide. And if he chooses you, if, despite your lack of appreciation for him, he chooses you, and he’s still fully, genuinely, honestly convinced that you are the only person who can make him happy, then be what he deserves. Start realizing the importance of selflessness. Start finding that part of your heart. Start learning about love. Or at least start trying.

Five Good Reasons I’ve Broken Up With Men

1. Apples

Once I found out that Jason not only ate Golden Delicious apples but preferred them, it was over. I’m a Braeburn girl. I’ll tolerate Honeycrisp in a pinch with an occasional Granny Smith if I’m feeling green. But I believe that the type of apple a person has a taste for is indicative of their core, and I don’t want anything to do with a mealy, mushy man. I want hard and with a bite.

2. Crime

Things with Steve were a bit more dramatic. I was watching the local news and suddenly there he was onscreen for the Top Ten Most Wanted segment. Fraud, theft, drugs…the list was quite impressive. Only later did I discover the forged checks, stolen power tools, and pawned notebook computer. We parted ways when I called the cops and had him taken to jail.

3. Box Fans

David was great until summer arrived, bringing with it the battle of the fans. I can’t fathom how anyone would choose a box fan over an oscillating one, but he did. Worse than that, he pulled up the knob on my rotating fan every time he came over, denying my fan the freedom to move, to do what it was meant to do. If a man does that to a household appliance, imagine what he would eventually do to the woman in his life. There was nothing left but to pull the plug on that one.

4. The “L” Word

Troy spelled the end of our relationship when he uttered “I love you” waaaaaaay too soon. I don’t use those words lightly and I won’t say them unless I mean them. He caught me off guard, and the only thing I could do was look him in the eye and tell him, “I have nothing to say to that.”

5. Cancer

For some reason, I decided to break up with Paul when I was in the car, behind the wheel, and driving through downtown. He argued, he begged, he apologized, he cried. For two fucking hours. I couldn’t get him out of my Ford Fairmont to save my life. This gave me an idea: I turned to him and with a shaky voice told him I had been diagnosed with cancer and needed to concentrate on fighting the disease. I said I simply didn’t have the emotional or physical energy for a relationship and that it wasn’t fair to him. I broke down, produced the requisite tears, and was finally able to leave him at the curb.

I’ve ditched a great many men and I beg to differ with Mr. Neil Sedaka: Breaking up isn’t hard to do as long as you have a really good reason. Did I mention Robert? He had aluminum siding put on his house.