I was a pure teenager. I loved for the sake of it, and valued love. So when I read a cartoon that lampooned my attitude, I was defenseless. “She is so shallow for choosing a guy with more charisma, more money, better looks, better in bed, and smarter. Why can’t she see the real you?”

So then, what do you allow yourself to value in others? And in yourself?

I suppose rigorous feminists blaspheme, in that their hopes don’t match what they want others to hope for.

Or worse – that they see good people as having their same good hopes. You know, as if men would have respect for how high ranking a woman is in the company. And as if we would respect how little she values our looks. Come on – you have your ranking system, and we have ours – making it the same ranking system would make us asexual with different genitalia – and how is that supposed to work? Ranking is inevitable, and gender is inevitable. I need you to smell different to get hard. Being as financially succesful as a high status man won’t make me hard. Good on you, but I could care less. Ok, you have those skills. I want to see your tits, please.

And you want to see my qualifications.