You Are From Uranus

Dennis Prager doesn’t like women, sure, we knew that. But it turns out he doesn’t like men all that much either:

If most women wait until they are in the mood before making love with
their husband, many women will be waiting a month or more until they
next have sex. When most women are young, and for some older women,
spontaneously getting in the mood to have sex with the man they love
can easily occur. But for most women, for myriad reasons — female
nature, childhood trauma, not feeling sexy, being preoccupied with some
problem, fatigue after a day with the children and/or other work, just
not being interested — there is little comparable to a man’s “out of
nowhere,” and seemingly constant, desire for sex.

Because while everything he’s saying is wrong and repulsive and indicative of misogyny and whatnot, what I can’t get past is the assumptions. Men want sex all the time. Men are their cocks. Men are like dogs humping on a leg. Men can’t see a pair of boobies, even in a turtleneck, and not jump out of their chairs and go fuck something, anything, a woman, a man, a sheep, a Dixie cup, a stuffed animal, what have you. Men can’t see a woman of any kind without thinking of her naked, even if she’s not attractive to them. Men are animals. Men have urges and those urges are constant and all-consuming.

(Seriously, guys, how do you build buildings and dig ditches and cure diseases, what with all this going on? I mean there’s chicks EVERYWHERE, walking around with tits, how the hell do you concentrate?)

We girls, on the other hand, don’t like sex. Except occasionally. On our birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Sweetest Day, Mother’s Day, when you bring us flowers or chocolate, when we’ve eaten chocolate, or after watching That Scene in Casino Royale six or seven times. Even then, we don’t really want sex. We’d rather have a Journey pendant from Jared. We don’t think of men as sex objects. We think of you as puppies, whose fur we’d like to brush. As such, sex is something we do to keep you happy, but we don’t need it for ourselves. It’s a favor. Occasionally we condescend to be your receptacles.

The discussion in Jesse’s comments goes off down the rabbit hole of the merits of faking, faking till you make, making, and the critical difference between me taking your phone call when I’d just as soon be left alone and having you stick your dick in me when I don’t want you to, the former being something I do to be nice and the latter being rape. What I’m stuck on is how aggressively dumb it is to trumpet male privilege when you really doesn’t seem to like men all that much. Because make no mistake, telling men that the ideal to which they can aspire is not a sex partner but a sex slave is to be reductive and cruel, andstupid into the bargain, and tell guys they’re nothing and deserve nothing.

Nothing but some girl who’s gonna put up with you, even if she doesn’t feel like it that night.


14 thoughts on “You Are From Uranus

  1. Seriously, guys, how do you build buildings and dig ditches and cure diseases, what with all this going on? I mean there’s chicks EVERYWHERE, walking around with tits, how the hell do you concentrate?
    Well, we tried forcing you to stay home with the kids, but you insisted on actually daring to leave the house. It’s been all downhill from there…

  2. A, are you sure you wouldn’t want one of Jane Seymour’s “Hearts On Fire” or whatever the fuck she calls it?
    I mean, it just screams sex. If by “sex,” you mean “two pairs of nutsacks.”
    Check it out.

  3. Jude, when I saw the ad pre-xmas holiday – I was like “it looks like boob cleavage over badonkadonk booty cleavage”! It’s just a waste of diamonds and presh metals. Which is a shame, I like Jane Seymour.

  4. Damn, I kinda liked it till the whole nutsack thing was brought to my attention. Thanks a lot, Jude!
    JK–I was pretty disappointed to see Jane’s foray into jewelry design. I’ve liked her ever since Somewhere In Time (which is like distilling all 300 Barbara Cartland books and shooting the result straight into a vein). This thing? Eew. Just eew.

  5. It DOES look like a ballsack! Damn.
    I just thought it was weird. And BuggyQ, don’t forget Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, which is like crack laced with more crack.

  6. Buggy, OOOHH!!! Somewhere in Time – I love that movie! No wonder I am so effed up romantically…
    Humming “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini” by Rach-y…wow…Elspeth

  7. This is the first time ever that I rushed through an Athenae posting to get to the comments. Somehow I just knew I was in for a real treat. Thanks, folks, you did not disappoint. And I can’t wait until I can tell my husband he’s not getting any because of my “female nature”. A lively discussion will ensue.

  8. Sue, no no no, you have to give him some, but make sure you tell him six or seven times beforehand that you really don’t feel like it, and are only giving in to his inexplicable urges because it is your marital duty.
    That one’s always a big hit around here.

  9. A, that wouldn’t work; we’ve been married too long. I would get some variation on “Works for me!” in reply. In retaliation I might mention at an inappropriate time that the cracks in the ceiling will probably need attention soon.

  10. I can’t imagine why being married to someone like Dennis Prager might turn one’s libido off. Honestly can’t.
    FYI, Mr. Prager, having sex with your wife without her explicit consent is a felony, and wheedling, whining, and being passive-aggressive until she gives in isn’t actually “consent.”
    I mean, I know it’s practically ridiculous to expect a right-winger to understand something as basic as the concept of “consent,” being as none of them actually believe that women own their own bodies and stuff, but I kind of have to try.

  11. Alternatively, you could buy him a big balloon. He’d likely think the lack of upkeep an improvement.
    Seriously, people. WHY read these turkeys, let alone give them their jollies by reacting?

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