I always have a stream of thoughts at any given time, but the journey from brain to phalanges often sees to it that those thoughts never make it to paper.
Poof, like so.
I was on Twitter (surprise, surprise) today and thanks to dephrank, my timeline was flooded by tweets about hoes (surprise, surprise) and it led to my tweeting something which looked like a nugget at the time.
I said, “I swear everyday I convince myself that there are still non-hoes on earth. I haven’t found one yet, but the thought keeps me going.”
If you’ve been following me for long enough, you’d know not to place much stock on what I say about women (I really don’t know squat about that weird gender). I just tweet about them for the shock value. And the retweets.
However, soon I was accosted in my DM by a delectable lady who said “I’m not a hoe.”
Face to face with this declaration, I was forced to seriously reconsider my tweet. Do I really think women are hoes?
Perhaps we should define hoe. I wouldn’t consult a dictionary for this as anything I find there is bound to be derogatory.
Someone told me that ‘hoe’ is a degrading term for women, and that it’s all ‘sexual.’ A woman with multiple sex partners is a hoe, she argued, but what about a man with multiple sex partners?
I whispered, he is also a hoe. Then she asks ‘but which of them loses societal value upon being called a hoe?’
Then the discussion switched up into patriarchy and feminism (of course) and the wicked control my gender is exerting on the female population and I was like “WOOOOOOOOWNDBWJDNHEBHW!”
I have a few things to say here: I am not a member of the ‘patriarchy’. Well, not consciously. I respect a girl as much as I would a guy and I’ve never caught myself genuinely (sans my ‘shock value’ tweets) anti-womanhood.
With that said, I’d add also that I am a good man. A bit too good, even. I do not understand the social rules for man/woman relations, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I try not to hurt anyone and above all I’m considerate of my partner’s feelings.
The problem is these things have conspired to make me poorly adapted to the jungle that is the dating world nowadays.
It’s almost a given that you should cheat on your partner. At first I thought it was a joke, but lately everybody I know has cheated on their partner and I’m the weird kid in the back of the class making toy planes and going ‘brooooaahhhwwww!”
(Essentially I’m saying my inability to get with the ‘cheating program’ is making me look like a retard.)
I have never cheated, but I have been cheated on, and I’m still (probably) going to be cheated on tomorrow because I don’t wear Versace, don’t own a car or a beard, and also because (VERY IMPORTANT) cheating in a relationship IS A GIVEN.
I know you don’t see the problem, dear reader (having been designed and hormonally conditioned to cheat), but I couldn’t cheat if I tried. I actually need to be in love to make love (disgusting, I know), and I’m also not a ‘hot item’ in the meat market so my demand is pretty low anyways. I mean, if I had so many potential women to dip my ladle in, would I be here blogging? Aha. That convinced you, didn’t it?
So, yeah. It looks like I’ll always be the bewildered stranger in heauxland. Men are heauxes. Women are heauxes. Society understands this and plans accordingly. I am caught in the crossfire, having never read the rules of engagement before going out there.