bitch

Another week, another conversation amongst the "girls" at work. This one I'm definitely going to blog about, because, yes indeed, I do have me a thesis statement for this one.

The three women directly involved in this conversation are in their twenties to thirties, all have young children; two are married and the (youngest) single one is in a relatively new but quickly-becoming-serious relationship with a guy who says he loves her and wants her to have his babies. One of the married women, whose husband was home today, was preparing to be pissed because she thought he wasn't going to do the dishes she'd left, even though she'd asked him to. "I'm always really appreciative when he does things for me," she said, "but not when I have to ask him to." Let's review: she's pissed that he's not going to do it, but even if he does, he's screwed because she had to mention it in the first place.

Other woman: "You know what you do if you come home and the dishes aren't done? You take them out of the sink and you scatter them all over the house. Then you don't give it up for a month."

Now, I like all these women. They're fine co-workers. I've got no problem with any of them. But I'm in the next room, listening to this, alternately biting my tongue and wanting to smack my head against the wall. And I say to myself, just shut up, Andrea. Who are you to give anyone any relationship advice, anyway? Look at your track record. Nope, these women are all in long-term committed relationships and/or are with men who love them. They obviously know what they're doing, and you don't. The key to relationship success (if not proven happiness) is apparently this: act like a bitch and a cunt, make demands--not all of which have to be, y'know, rational--and withhold sex.

Because you men? Despite what you may claim, that's apparently what you want. You all are either a bunch of closet emotional masochists or you like the drama. Probably both.

xoxo