textbook: (historical figure) remained celibate throughout their entire life
me, a homosexual who Knows Better: sure
“She never took a husband and so must have died a virgin, in the house she shared with the woman who was her best friend and constant companion who she was inseperable from”
this post feels exactly like a conversation you would witness in a dream and think was completely normal and then wake up and think “what the fuck?” for a single millisecond and then immediately forget about completely
Women are constantly and specifically trained out of noticing or responding to their bodily discomfort, particularly if they want to be sexually “viable.” Have you looked at how women are “supposed” to present themselves as sexually attractive? High heels? Trainers? Spanx? These are things designed to wrench bodies. Men can be appealing in comfy clothes. They walk in shoes that don’t shorten their Achilles tendons. They don’t need to get the hair ripped off their genitals or take needles to the face to be perceived as “conventionally” attractive. They can — just as women can — opt out of all this, but the baseline expectations are simply different, and it’s ludicrous to pretend they aren’t.
The old implied social bargain between women and men (which Andrew Sullivancalls “natural”) is that one side will endure a great deal of discomfort and pain for the other’s pleasure and delight. And we’ve all agreed to act like that’s normal, and just how the world works….
Women are supposed to perform comfort and pleasure they do not feel under conditions that make genuine comfort almost impossible. Next time you see a woman breezily laughing in a complicated and revealing gown that requires her not to eat or drink for hours, know a) that you are witnessing the work of a consummate illusionist acting her heart out and b) that you have been trained to see that extraordinary, Oscar-worthy performance as merely routine.Now think about how that training might filter down to sexual contexts….
One side effect of teaching one gender to outsource its pleasure to a third party (and endure a lot of discomfort in the process) is that they’re going to be poor analysts of their own discomfort, which they have been persistently taught to ignore.
concept: the year is 2034. i walk into work with coffee in hand. coworker is wearing cool shoelaces and i compliment them absentmindedly. they look me dead in the eye and say, “thanks, i stole them from the president.” scalding coffee leaks out of every one of my orifices and i hide in the bathroom convulsing for the rest of the day
it is physically painful to remember that people have continued to join tumblr since 2012 and that there are people–perhaps people reading this! right now!!!–who don’t have the foggiest memory of this fucking post. this post haunted me, do you understand, i saw and heard this code used in REAL FUCKING LIFE, I CANT FKJCLNG HANDLE THIS