Messers Rogers and Hammerstein… those were the days….
But it is true… now if a man objectifies a woman, he is being disrespectful… misogynistic… UnPC…
Sadly, the fashion these days is for men being sensitive… modern… and generally dull.
When recently on a fetish dating website, I saw that ‘1950s household’ is now considered to be a fetish. Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Let me clarify… women should be able to do whatever they would like. At the same time, we aren’t men. Thank God! Worse, somewhere along the line, we started turning men into women. I do take issue with this.
I have always said that a man may try anything until I tell him to stop- at which point I expect him to do so. But there is nothing verging on creepier than when a grown man says… ‘May I kiss you?’ ‘May I touch your breast?’ ‘Would you like me to stick my hand up to my watch in your sopping wet pountang?’
‘May I kiss you’ are words which would never pass Clark Gable’s lips… (my standard for the epitome of manhood… not only was he a first class leading man, but when the love of his life died, he quietly signed up in the airforce and went off as a machine gunner on a bomber in WWII…) When men head down that road with me, it is an enormous turn off. You can push all the boundaries you like… but if I say no… that means no…
Partially to blame for all this the birth control pill. It is scientifically proven that women on the pill choose less macho, more nurturing men who will help them look after babies. Women off the pill go for alpha males who will pump them full of potent sperm to make more alphas… so perhaps my preference comes from the fact that I havent been on the pill since 1999.
As previously mentioned, I want a man who will throw me down on the bed… take me… protect me and not ask me if I want my whites starched when he irons them. I want to be the one who takes care of him so that he can go take down a bigger mammoth on the taiga…
I fully admit that men are bigger, stronger and more predatory. I want to be his reward for a battle well fought and a dragon well slain. When he comes home, I want him to rest his soul in my arms and take his pleasure between my thighs. None of this ‘we are two entities choosing to co-habitate together.’ No. I am the diamond he mined… the treasure he won… his prize possession… his…all his… and he owns me… body and soul.
Touch it without his permission… and he will take your arm off….