Other men have set the standard for anything at rock bottom and I constantly feel ashamed to be benefitting from it.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit around and whip myself over the crime of being born with a penis and not seeing any issue with the fact I have said penis, but it’s still bewildering to me the sheer amount of horribly invasive ways in which other men’s incompetence benefits me on a day-to-day basis.

I noticed this at first in the dating scene. So many people that I’ve dated have told me how nice/compassionate/etc I am for doing some act I percieved to be the bare minimum.

Aww, thank you for cooking for me! No one’s done that for me before~

…Did, did your previous boyfriends leave you to starve or like-

I’ve talked to many friends who’ve told me how other men are just selfish when it comes to bed. It’s one thing to be inexperienced, right? I’m inexperienced in many fields, I still suck at giving head and am trying my best to improve on that front, but holy FUCK what are the stories I’m hearing out of people.

I’ve had a friend tell me that, with regular occurance, guys will finish 3 or more times during sex, and she’ll need to beg them for them to even considering fingering her. And even when they do, it’s an obligation! What do you MEAN you needed to ask someone to make you feel good during sex? IT’S SEX! YOU’RE TWO PEOPLE. WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT?? Were it just fingering poorly it’d be one thing right? It’d show intent but fucking up in the execution, sure. But. Not even that???

And I wish it just ended at the fact that I get a standing oviation for the insane and unheard strategy of “doing what the other person is asking me to”, it crosses over to basically anything else! I’ve mentioned before how my roommates are unable to clean or cook for themselves at their thirties; how the fuck do you not know how to do the laundry, lad??? Do you wear your dirty underwear twice in a row? Actually, you know what, I’ve reconsidered, don’t answer that, I don’t wanna know.

It’s just a sheer, pervasive incuriosity about the world. Sitting around in their soiled undergarments, expecting the universe to bend over and do it all for them. And they somehow get away with this shit!

I don’t need to tell you about how pervasive misogyny is in society. I’m a man; thinking I’m the appropriate vessel to describe the day-to-day experiences of women would be an exercise in hypocrisy. But it still blows my mind every single time, right? It’s one thing to know that you probably have a rat somewhere in your house, it’s another to stumble onto the kitchen and see it having a midnight snack. And the snack this rat is eating is another rat, and not in a sexy way. It’s chomping through the social lives of about half the other rats in the house, and I think this metaphor is breaking apart at this point.

I feel guilt to some extent from this, yknow? I know it’s not my fault, certainly, but I still benefit from this. Privilege is not an abundance of opportunity, it’s the absence of obstacles, and having myself a light jog while I see the runners next to me getting kneed in the groin repeatedly feels like I’m partially responsible for not acting out more.

I’d like to say I try to act out (I’ve gotten enough weird stares at the office for loudly telling people off for being misogynistic/racist), but I still benefit from this situation. I’m not sure how to feel about it really. Bad, probably, but to what extent, and with how much responsibility? Is the fact I’m even allowed to consider this a product of privilege? Is whipping myself over the back for something that I’m not actively trying to stop another manifestation of the exact systems and behaviours that create this oppression?

I don’t know.

I’ve had a writing class in this last semester of uni, and we’ve been told to write a freestyle story of up to 1000 words, and I’m thinking about writing about the experience of this proxy guilt while focusing on the actual injustice taking place, but it still feels hypocritical. Taking someone else’s suffering and using it as set dressing for my literary jackoff. I’ll need to sit and think about it.

Anyways, if anyone knows any good nonfiction books by women about this topic, I’d sincerely appreciate a recommendation. The closest I’ve got is reading Come as You Are by Emily Nagoski, but as much as that’s helping me in terms of understanding other sexual perspectives I still feel like it’s a limited viewpoint.