5.06.2011

I'm A Man About It

I am by no means a feminist, but at the same time there are few things that frustrate me more than gender inequality. On the first day of my Intro to Women's Studies class (shut up, its a GPA booster) the professor had us take an anonymous poll about what we felt was the biggest social issue facing women today to which I passionately answered "the unequal ratio of giving head to receiving head." For every conversation I've had with a friend that runs along the lines of "I can't believe he just played me out like that. This whole time he's been telling me that he wants to date me and shit like that, and now I find out he's been hooking up with not just a girl in Theta, but a Kappa sister too!" is normally preceded by a conversation a few weeks earlier that goes like this "We haven't had sex yet, but I've given him head like a million times. He hasn't gone down on me though, I don't know, I don't really want to ask him for it though." And come to think of it, I've never even heard of a case where a woman has pushed on a man's head and shoulders until he's gone down. Too many Sunday morning brunches have included "Yeah, I gave him head last night. It's not that he made me, he was just really insistent. Not like he returned the favor, though" while not nearly enough have had the situation go the other way around.
After spending several days flipping through flashcards, quizzing myself on feminist authors and famous literary works, I took my Womens Studies midterm on thursday and after completion was ready to blow off some steam. What I wanted was for the first time in 78 hours to not think about gender equality, but as it turns out the material didn't stray as far from my conscious as I intended it to. Everything was seemingly normal as I dressed (tight, short skirt, face full of makeup, pain-inducing shoes, everything Audre Lorde stands against), but when I left my room making my way into the night, I had a fresh purpose. A dominant purpose. With a goal known only to my subconscious, I pregamed with an agenda; an agenda that became very clear once the guy I'd been talking to for a few weeks now texted me to meet up. With my agenda realized, my friends and I went off to the party that texting boy was at, where I stayed for all of ten minutes before we were making out in a manner that if I'd seen other people doing it I'd describe as disgustingly public and execrable but since it was me I'll describe as passionate and totally hot. A decent amount of kissing and teasing later, and we were fleeing the public eye to the privacy of his place down the street. And by his place, I mean his room in his frat house. I wandered into his trap unknowing, it wasn't until I was in his bedroom looking at the vintage Playboy covers that hung in frames along the walls that I realized I was on my way to being objectified. I stood in the center of the room with equal distance between his bed and the door, and as he came up behind me and started kissing my neck I realized I had a decision to make. Well, if you leave now he's gonna think that he intimidated you, and therefore you backing down is you losing. But, if you stay then you run the risk of being used which really isn't much better. Honestly, what you have to do is just stick it out and be a man about it.
"So," he said in between pecks leading from my jawbone down to my shoulders and collarbone, "should we move to the bed?" My eyes were locked on the bed, then after a few seconds I turned around to kiss him hard on the mouth. As he sunk into the kiss, my eyes were now glancing over his shoulder onto the door. Time to choose. Are you gonna man up or back down? I pulled away, now my eyes were staring directly into his. I gave him a challenging look and answered "Sure." I knew exactly how I was going to play this. We laid on his bed. In almost no time and with almost no help from me, he was now fully naked. Things began to escalate in the usual fashion, until some decisive moves were being made. I could tell he wanted to fuck, but lying in the bed of his frat house there wasn't anything I wanted to do less. "No," I said softly in his ear. "No?" he looked at me with hopeful eyes, but unswayed I simply shook my head. Crestfallen yet respectful, we carried on. I could feel him fidgeting, he was like water being heated, I just had to wait until he started boiling. "Even if I have a condom?" Though I admired his efforts, the answer was still no. "Well, can I go down on you?" Now he was at a boil. I gave him a shy yet challenging grin, giving him the greenlight. And just like that, I became the man-in-charge. I had him exactly where I wanted him without having to do anything that I didn't want to do. It felt so good on so many different levels. Once I had gotten what I wanted and his head was up once again next to mine on the pillow, he then just looked into my eyes. He didn't mean to look vulnerable, but given the current state of what had just went down and what was not going down in the immediate future, he looked extremely vulnerable. He looked into my eyes and I looked over his shoulder at the door. The harder he stared at me, the more longingly I looked at the door. He put his arm around me, pulling me closer into his body, which caused me to finally boil.
"Actually, I think I'm just gonna go back to my room now."
"You sure? Because you can totally sleep here," he offered graciously. What a gentleman.
"No, no, it's fine, I have a lot of stuff I need to do tomorrow, I should sleep in my own room." I sat up and briskly put my clothes on. After making sure my purse had the essentials in it (phone, room key, gum), I stood up from the bed. I opened the door then quickly pivoted around, "Thanks, though" and just like that I was out.
I walked down frat row with a skip in my step, but a lag in my heart. My brain was telling me that I'd made one small step for women and one giant leap for womankind; I knew I should feel good about what I'd just done. And in my mind I knew I could dedicate my actions to all my girlfriends who'd given unrequited oral and felt used after. But it turns out I didn't feel as empowered as I thought I would have. I actually felt kind of empty. It turns out I didn't get the kind of pleasure from being a man that I thought I would. I guess I just don't have the balls it requires to play someone out.

1 comment:

  1. ...There is nothing even remotely feminist-y about this.

    ReplyDelete